“Appreciate it.” Knaak offers a warm and open smile. “We wish you the best, and we’ll be ready if we’re needed.”
From there, Lerial makes his way to the Rusty Nail, a tavern one block off the river road on the south side of the point, less than a hundred yards from where Majer Aerlyt has positioned Fourth Battalion. While Aerlyt does not come out to meet Lerial, a junior squad leader does and escorts Lerial into a small side room, most likely a plaques or gaming room.
Aerlyt rises from the table and smiles. He is silver-haired and easily the oldest Afritan Guard officer that Lerial has met, at least so far. He listens intently as Lerial explains, then says, “I wish I’d known what you were doing yesterday. We were slow to react, and then Fhaet sent word that we weren’t to attack.”
That sleazy worm. Lerial still manages an apologetic smile. “That was my fault. I thought Subcommander Drusyn had informed you, and he thought I had.” Lerial isn’t going to go so far as to admit just how much he had fouled up matters, but it is becoming more clear that he had overlooked far too much. “So we planned today’s attack together, and I thought it best to check with each battalion commander before beginning our attack.”
“It helps when everyone’s clear on who will do what.” Aerlyt smiles. “We’ll be ready, Overcaptain.”
“Thank you.”
The last stop is the empty tinsmith’s shop. There are no officers around, except for Fhaet himself, and he barely looks up as Lerial enters the front area of the shop.
“Good morning, Majer,” Lerial offers pleasantly.
“Good morning, Overcaptain.”
“I just wanted to stop by before we begin our attack so that you would know what we’re doing, and how your battalion is expected to follow up.”
Fhaet smiles politely, but scarcely pleasantly. “I understand what you’re doing, Overcaptain. I’ve read the subcommander’s orders, and I’m a good Afritan officer.”
Lerial doesn’t like Fhaet’s tone, or the way he is responding, but doesn’t wish to push. “We’ll be starting our attack shortly. I just thought you should know so that you can follow up if we’re successful.”
“We’ll do what is necessary, Overcaptain.”
“I’m sure that you will. I appreciate that.”
“I won’t keep you, Overcaptain.”
“Nor I you, Majer.”
As he leaves the former tinsmith’s shop and rides back toward the Mirror Lancers, Lerial cannot help but wonder exactly why Fhaet is so politely unpleasant. What does he have against you? Or Cigoerne?
“Everyone’s ready, ser,” Fheldar announces when Lerial reins up on the side street, just out of sight of South Point.
“Good. It’s going to be a few moments.”
As he did on fiveday, Lerial uses his eyes and order-senses to survey the Heldyan positions. It is clear that they have built up the initial stone barricades to the point where it will be difficult for a mount to clear them, unlike before—another reminder of the costs of his haste and sloppiness and Fhaet’s anger and/or incompetence. Still … there is an area some thirty yards to the north of the center of the barricade where perhaps the tiniest bit of order-chaos separation could create an opening wide enough for the Mirror Lancers, provided that Lerial can deal with the remaining chaos-mage. Except … his senses reveal that there are now two chaos focal points, one most likely the diffuse and shielded mage who survived the attack on fiveday, the other a more open and less-shielded and likely younger white wizard.
But Drusyn reported that the Heldyans didn’t land any more men. Lerial frowns. The combination of more armsmen behind the first line of the rough stone wall, the increased height of that barricade, and, now, another mage suggests all too strongly that either Drusyn is lying or that he is relying on Fhaet, who is either failing to report or sending false or incomplete reports. Lerial can only hope it is the second possibility, but even that doesn’t reflect all that well on Drusyn. He forces himself to study the entire South Point area once more, slowly and methodically.
Finally, he nods.
“Ser?” asks Fheldar.
“Apparently, Majer Fhaet failed to notice or to notify the subcommander that the Heldyans did manage to land a few more troopers. I’d judge another two companies, possibly three. Pass the word that we’ll attack with two companies, Eighth and Eleventh. Undercaptain Kusyl is to reinforce us where necessary.”
“Yes, ser.”
A tenth of a glass passes before Lerial receives word that all companies are ready. He strengthens his shields, then orders, “Mirror Lancers! Forward!”