For today’s attack. “Thank you for the forthrightness, Majer. How soon will Fourteenth Battalion be ready to ride out—with lances?”
“Less than half a glass, ser. The commander told me about the lances. I’ve had to borrow a few from Tenth Battalion. Some of ours were damaged by the explosion.”
“That should do. If you’ll come with me, I’ll go over the plan with you and my undercaptains. Would you like me to include your company officers?” Lerial doesn’t want Paelwyr to think that he wants to command Fourteenth Battalion directly, although he would like the Afritan captains to hear the plan firsthand and, in turn, see their reactions and hear any thoughts they might have.
“If you would, ser.”
Lerial glances around, but all the other officers have left. “Then have them here as soon as you can.”
“Yes, ser.”
Lerial barely manages to retrieve his hand-drawn map and his company leaders before Paelwyr returns with his company officers. While they are gathering around the end of the long table, Lerial lays the small map on the wooden surface.
Then, with Paelwyr standing beside him, Lerial looks over Fheldar, his two undercaptains, and the five Afritan company officers. “Contrary to what some may think, this is not a gallant suicide attack. It’s supposed to be a swift jab to the Heldyan western flank to put them off-balance, and, if we’re successful, to inflict significant casualties before they can bring all their forces against us.”
“Might I ask why?” asks Paelwyr almost matter-of-factly, clearly wanting more explanation for his officers.
“There are two reasons. First, an attack from the west will suggest we have more forces than we do, and that will make them more cautious. Second, the more casualties we can inflict before we engage in a huge battle, the better the odds for us when that happens.”
“If this is successful, then you’ll try again?”
“That depends on how successful and what the Heldyans do.”
Paelwyr offers a broad smile. “We’ll be pleased to be part of anything like that.”
Lerial points to the map. “Here’s where they are. They’ve posted at least a company in that low dip. Rather than attack there, we’ll take the trail to the west past the scrub forest, and then attack from the northwest…” He goes on to detail what he has in mind. When he finishes, he looks to Paelwyr. “Do you have any questions, Majer?”
“How do you want us to handle any chaos-fire?”
“We have some defenses against that. If those defenses fail, you’ll get an order to withdraw. If possible, we’ll withdraw by heading south along the grassy swale … the same way we’ve planned to complete the attack—except sooner. If that is not possible, then I’d recommend heading due west, right over the ridge. The slope isn’t that steep, and you shouldn’t have to fight your way out. You would if you head for the dip in the ridge.” Lerial pauses, then adds, “One other thing. Even if the Heldyans we attack break and scatter, you’re not to pursue more than fifty to a hundred yards. If you do, you’ll find yourselves surrounded, and, as I said earlier, this attack is not a gallant suicide charge. The idea is to disrupt and kill them, then withdraw without getting many of our men hurt or killed. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ser.”
Lerial then answers several questions about command terms and what type of front he wants before there are no other inquiries, and he ends the briefing.
A third of a glass later, under a sun barely above the waters of the bay, and obscured partly by a haze that suggests a hot spring day, Lerial leads his combined force out through the gates of the Harbor Post and south, seemingly away from the Heldyans—but only for slightly more than half a kay before turning west on a narrow field lane, one beyond the sight of even any Heldyan lookouts on the rises around their encampment. The narrow lane makes progress slower than Lerial would prefer, and almost a glass passes before they have crossed the brook and two ridges and are headed north along the trail described by the Afritan scout.