“No offense, Lerial,” adds Drusyn, “but the arms-commander wouldn’t have been able to persuade the duke to invite you to join us if we weren’t outnumbered.”
“The arms-commander told me that Khesyn also has more than fifteen companies held at Estheld, possibly five battalions.”
“Frig…” mutters Ascaar. “No wonder Rhamuel can’t pry any of the other companies from Swartheld … as if Khesyn would risk crossing almost a kay of water in flatboats … and some merchanters might help the duke.”
Might? That definitely concerns Lerial.
Drusyn glances around, then murmurs in a low voice, “The duke doesn’t want to be more indebted to them.”
“Whereas he feels Cigoerne might … just might … feel indebted for other reasons … or unwilling to exact repayment for helping him out?” asks Lerial lightly, if also quietly.
Drusyn laughs softly. “There might be something to that, but we won’t know that until after it doesn’t matter. One way or the other.”
Lerial takes a bite of the eggs, discovering that they taste better than they smell, followed by one of the mutton strips, which tastes exactly like mutton fried and heavily peppered. The bread is warm and slightly doughy.
“I take it that one of the reasons you were sent,” says Ascaar dryly, “is to limit the number of companies your sire felt he had to commit.”
“You can see why Ascaar isn’t on the arms-commander’s staff proper,” adds Drusyn.
“And why he must be a very good field commander?” returns Lerial as soon as he swallows.
“He is. He doesn’t like to admit it,” replies Drusyn.
“And so are you.”
“Why might you say that?” There is a hint of a smile around the corners of Drusyn’s mouth.
“Because you’re in command of battalions where it’s most likely that Khesyn will attack.” And it’s far more important that whoever commands the forces left in Swartheld be loyal to Rhamuel than be the best commander.
“That brings up the other reasons why you were sent,” says Drusyn.
“He’s the most effective field commander Duke Kiedron has,” interjects the subcommander sitting several chairs away.
Lerial hopes the two subcommanders with whom he is sitting don’t catch the slightest stress on the word “effective.”
“Thank you, Commander,” replies Drusyn.
Ascaar merely looks at Drusyn and shakes his head, then murmurs, “Valatyr knows everything.”
“How long…?”
“Have I been a Mirror Lancer? Close to seven years.”
“You don’t look that old.”
“I’m not,” Lerial admits. “I’ll be twenty-three just after the turn of summer.”
The two exchange glances.
“He killed his first raider when he was sixteen,” interjects Valatyr. “He destroyed more than three battalions in the last battle of the Verdyn rebellion. He wouldn’t have told you that, and neither of you needs to know more.”
Lerial understands fully why Valatyr has offered his last words. Obviously Rhamuel knows who the undercaptain was who also destroyed a full battalion of Afritan Guards at Ensenla … and would prefer that information remain unknown.
Ascaar tries to stifle a grin as he looks at Drusyn and says in a low voice, “You had to know.”
“Your sire obviously didn’t pamper you,” says Drusyn dryly.
“He didn’t pamper either of us … and he’s never indulged himself.” Before either subcommander can say more, Lerial asks, “What is the routine here? Is there an area where I could have my companies practice maneuvers—starting tomorrow? The horses need some rest.”
“The grasslands southwest of the hunting park are open for maneuvers,” answers Drusyn. “We have to get approval from Subcommander Valatyr. That’s just so we don’t interfere with each other and the arms-commander knows who’s doing what.”
“The routine?”
“It’s up to each commander to keep his forces ready in whatever manner he sees fit.”
“What about archers?”
“We each have a company. Each battalion has four companies of lancers that can double as mounted foot, and one company of archers who can do the same.” Ascaar looks to Lerial.
“My companies are lancers, who can attack with either lances or sabres, or be mounted foot. Two of the companies have one squad that can double as mounted archers.” Lerial pauses, then goes on. “The Meroweyans had companies of heavy foot and used a shield wall for advances against archers and even lancers. Do you have any heavy foot, or does Duke Khesyn?”
“We have two companies. They’re in Swartheld. They’re more suited to defending a city, according to Commander Nythalt.”
“He’s the commander in charge in Swartheld?”
Both subcommanders nod.
Lerial takes several more bites of his breakfast, and a swallow of lager.
“Do you have any other questions?” asks Drusyn.
“How many companies or battalions are still in Swartheld?”
“Ten battalions I’ve heard tell. No one’s said. Anything else?”