Paelwyr drops into the chair across the long table from Lerial. “Our casualties were light. Very light, given that we rode right through the Heldyan encampment. How did you manage that, ser?”
“Surprise. I doubt that anyone expected an attack like that. We were inside their lines before they could react.”
“You knew where their lines were thin before you ever saw the encampment.”
“I scouted it out yesterday. People seldom change their lines when they haven’t been attacked.” All of that is true and allows Lerial to avoid answering Paelwyr’s implied question. “What were your casualties? I’ll need to report them to the commander.”
“Twenty-nine killed or missing, forty wounded, most only slightly.”
Lerial nods. “That’s good for what you accomplished. We likely created a battalion’s worth of casualties. You obviously kept your men in an effective tight formation.”
“Not quite as tight as I would have liked.”
“That tight under those conditions was admirable.”
“Will we be doing something like that again, ser?”
“Not like that. We may be called on to undertake another diversionary attack, but it will have to be different if we are.”
“Is there anything else, ser?”
“Not for now. If that changes, I’ll let you know.”
“By your leave … then…?”
“Of course.” Lerial watches as Paelwyr rises and then leaves the mess. Once he is alone, he takes a swallow of the lager, then sets the beaker down. He worries about the thrust of Paelwyr’s questions, and hopes he has defused at least some of the majer’s suspicions.
“Overcaptain, ser?”
Lerial looks up to see a junior squad leader standing at the end of the mess table. “Yes?”
“Commander Dhresyl wanted you and Subcommander Drusyn to know that Subcommander Ascaar is fighting off four battalions of Heldyans at Shaelt.”
“Thank you.” Lerial can’t say he is surprised.
“The commander would like to meet with you both as soon as Subcommander Drusyn arrives.”
“I’ll wait here for Subcommander Drusyn.”
“Yes, ser.” The squad leader nods and then hurries out.
Lerial takes another swallow of lager, realizing that the beaker is almost empty and that he has eaten the entire small loaf of bread and the wedge of cheese.
“Would you like more, ser?” asks the mess ranker.
“Please.”
Lerial has only drunk several swallows from the second beaker of lager when Drusyn walks into the senior officers’ mess.
“I hear you did some damage to the Heldyans…” begins the subcommander.
“Both of you in here, if you would!” calls Dhresyl from the small chamber adjoining the mess.
Lerial rises from the table, taking the beaker with him, and joins Drusyn in entering the smaller room, where Dhresyl sits behind a table desk. The commander looks askance at the half beaker of lager that Lerial carries.
“It’s been a long morning … day.” Lerial takes one of the straight-backed chairs before the desk and sits down.
Drusyn takes the other chair.
“What sort of damage did you inflict on the Heldyans?”
“We cost them at least a battalion, possibly two,” replies Lerial.
“You don’t know the enemy casualties?” The commander frowns.
“It wouldn’t have been wise to remain close enough to count.” Lerial takes another swallow of lager. “We rode inside the western perimeter of their encampment and then along the southern edge. Along the way, we took out as many as we could without stopping or slowing.”
“They didn’t pursue?”
“Not beyond their own lines.”
“What about their pikes and shields?”
“They’re not nearly as effective if you attack them from the side or from behind … and if your riders have lances.” Lerial’s tone is dry.
“I see. What about your casualties?”
“The Mirror Lancers lost fifteen men and suffered twenty-six wounded. Fourteenth Battalion lost twenty-nine and had forty wounded.”
“A hundred or so casualties from a diversionary attack?” Dhresyl’s eyebrows lift.
“A diversionary attack that removed over a battalion of Heldyans.” And likely two chaos-mages.
“It is rather difficult to kill a large number of enemy armsmen without losing some troopers,” Drusyn adds dryly.
After he leaves Drusyn and Dhresyl, Lerial makes his way to the officers’ quarters, where he gathers Fheldar, Strauxyn, and Kusyl and briefs them on the situation Ascaar is facing.
“Doesn’t surprise you, does it, ser?” asks Fheldar.
“I would have been surprised if there hadn’t been another attack somewhere, and an attack on Ascaar makes sense.” And the fact that Khesyn knows where all Rhamuel’s forces are makes another kind of sense.
“Do you think the Heldyans will attack somewhere else?” Strauxyn looks intently at Lerial.