A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"Whhaaaat?" The man seemed shocked.

"Weren't you listening this morning? Apparently, you'll get lashes of the whip if you go too far," another chipped in.

"No way! It's not fair! The Captain's already got a wife, hasn't he? Why's he taking all the good women for himself," the soldier wailed.

Seeing that they were drunk, and the conversation truly was going nowhere, Tolsey tried to hurry them off.

"Well, you've seen the boy. We both have business to attend to – be on your way," he said, sounding more commanding than he usually might.

The soldiers saluted, and did as they were ordered, but they were more lax than they would have been if the Captain was the one ordering them to move along. Tolsey seemed to notice as much, for he sighed as he watched them go.

"Shall we be going, then?" He said to Beam, as though he were an equal rather than an underling. Beam didn't comment on it. The Vice-Captain made such slips of tongue regularly, as though his mind struggled to glue together the fact that Beam was a peasant, but also a warrior that eclipsed Tolsey.

When they arrived at the Captain's tent, he was hunched over his table, as he often was, staring down at that map of his.

He did not look up as he heard them enter.

"The Yarmdon are still missing," he said gravely. "But where could they have gone?" He traced his finger across the map, tapping in various places, though he did not announce their names aloud. After tapping several places, his finger slowed, as though realizing that the endeavour was pointless – there were too many possibilities.

Finally, he looked up. "How goes the northern front, Vice-Captain?" He asked, his tone authoritative. It was enough to make Tolsey straighten up. He stood to attention, and gave his reply with a similar level of formality.

"No casualties or wounded again today, sir. The defences are proceeding steadily. The trench is at half-depth, and the central line of stakes have been put into position," Tolsey told him.

The Captain nodded. "And what about the wounded that we have gathered up to this point? How goes their injuries?"

"Our medics have been able to give them more individual attention, now that there are less men coming in. There have also been a few more village women that have volunteered to help, inspired by Mrs Felder. Three men have been cleared to return to duty, with a further two expected to recover within the week. The others are unlikely to be healed for some time," Tolsey said.

"Good news and bad," Lombard noted, tapping his map as he twisted his lip. "And then there's the dead on top of that. They should have been at home by now…"

"Allow me to write the letters to the families of the deceased," Tolsey said, recognizing the burden that had been placed on Lombard's shoulders. He was well aware that his captain deeply regretted having to bring his men this far east in the midst of winter, after they had already served their time just weeks before.

But the Captain straightened up at that, as though to reject his concern. "No. As their Captain, it must be done by me. That is the responsibility of leadership, Vice-Captain. To take charge of both the lives and the deaths of your men. One day you will be in such a position yourself – you must see each thing to the end."

With a grave nod, Tolsey accepted his words. Having dealt with Tolsey, the Captain turned his attention to Beam.

"No wounds?" He asked, his formality loosening. He was well aware that the boy paid no mind to noble talk.

Beam shook his head. "None. With the assistance of two squadrons of archers, the work is simple enough."

The Captain nearly smiled at that. His lips curved into a half smile, before something took over, forcing him from going all the way. He merely nodded sternly instead. "It is amusing to hear such a comment, when we compare the condition to just a few days prior… That a mere two squadrons could make things 'easy' seems almost a jest – and yet I have seen your skills, and know it to be true.

"Well, if you remain rested, then there will be a silver lining to all this, I suppose," the Captain mused, tapping his map. "But the ominous nature of this Yarmdon disappearance… I do not like it. Then there are foes in the mountains that need rooting out. It is hard to consider our defence anything but precarious."

"…Does that mean you're looking for the counter-attack now, Captain?" Tolsey asked. He'd been aware that was the Captain's plan from the start – to deal with any Yarmdon that were close to them the second the scouts reported them on the map, so that his men might get home sooner, before the winter truly started. That hope had ended up dashed, though.

"I will need to consider it – as our defences improve on the mountainside, it becomes more of an option. Fewer squadrons will be required to hold against the monster attacks with it. Instead of eight, we could comfortably manage the defences with six, even without the boy. That leaves us with room to move. For now, we allow the soldiers to rest, and we await our opportunity," Lombard said resolutely.

Tolsey nodded seriously. "Understood, Captain."

"That means you as well, boy – rest," Lombard told him. "You've taken on an important position, you understand? Though you may not have any command over them, you've been given the responsibility for many lives. Whether they get to rest or not is entirely down to your own performance, and thus how well you rest."

"I understand," Beam said with a frown, not particularly appreciating the lecture. He felt like he was doing a fine job at keeping himself healthy.

"Though I expect you will still want to attend the festival this evening, no?" The Captain said.

"Ah, is it that already?" Beam said, his voice rising in realization. "It definitely is cold enough for it."