A Drink Before Battle [M/M] ✅

7: Time To Meet The Whelp

The woods opened out into gently sloping land that had long ago been cleared for settlement, and the Third Cavalry soon found themselves passing by small farming and fishing villages. In this idyllic, pastoral setting, the din of horse hooves and marching boots on the road seemed menacing even to the ones making it. It was a bit heartwarming to see children stop their play to wave and cheer at the soldiers as they passed by, but Sevei desperately hoped that all these people were ready to clear out of here quickly if it became necessary.

The road they traveled led straight to the river port. The Brinnish troops had taken the area south of the port with the Valeskans taking the north end. As the air began to take on the scent of the river, and the sounds of ship horns could be heard in the far distance, they came upon a dirt track veering off the road to the north. It would have been beaten into the ground by General Urskatha's unit, the Valeskan Fourth Martial Line, over the past week.

A mile along the dirt track, the camp came into view. From their uphill position, they had a wide view of the valley, the low-hanging sun dazzling across the water of the river and setting the veritable town of white tents aglow. They were met by a welcoming party from the Fourth Martial Line along with their own head engineer's deputy, who rode next to Sevei to report on the camp's progress as they continued along. From the sound of it, there was shelter for all tonight, cramped though it may be.

Leaving their horses in a fenced pasture and the men to their troop captains to settle in, Sevei and Yanek followed the Fourth Martial envoy into camp. At the point where the encampments of the two units met, the officer's tents of both had been arranged in a circle around a wide clearing with a great firepit in its center, creating a courtyard for command operations. The two generals' tents were easily spotted, each being the size of a small cottage and emblazoned with the insignia of their units – a rampant horse with three stars overhead for the Third Cavalry; a blazing sun beneath four stars for the Fourth Martial Line.

"Those will be your tents over on that side," an officer of the Fourth Martial Line said, pointing them out across the yard, "but General Urskatha would like to meet with you right away. There's been news."

Sevei and Yanek exchanged wry glances, barely concealing their shared humor as they recalled earlier conversations. Time to meet the whelp, Yanek's wagging eyebrows said.

"General Sevei has arrived!" the officer called as they approached the tent's entryway.

"Send him in!" a voice answered from within – a woman's voice. Sevei and Yanek shot each other questioning glances as the officer opened the tent flap and motioned them inside.

The interior of the tent was unexpected. Sevei had seen the tents of other generals of noble lineage; most of them tried to take an entire house out into the field with them, unable to leave off the comforts of their posh estates. This tent was sparsely furnished – a single-width bed, a desk, a table with a few chairs, a few cabinets, a few oil lamps hanging about, but no frivolous decoration, and everything in sight appeared to be standard military issue. There was a raised wooden floor, but no carpets – even Sevei had a few carpets. This tent felt empty, its size unnecessary.

The woman who's voice they'd heard stood to one side of the desk. She wore the same uniform as Sevei and Yanek – a midnight blue tunic and trousers with a purple cloak and baldric, her insignia marking her as a Sergeant. Yanek seemed unable to peel his gaze from her. She was quite lovely, with dark hair bound into a thick braid and large, slightly upturned eyes holding a curious and friendly expression.

Sevei nudged Yanek with an elbow to direct his attention to the man sitting behind the desk -presumably General Urskatha.

The man's head was bent low over the desk as he furiously scribbled at a document there. The first noticeable thing about him was his hair, as only the top of his head was currently visible – so pale a blonde that it was almost white, cut to shoulder-length with the top tied back, the sides hanging down around his face. The second thing Sevei noticed was that he did not wear the officer's uniform. He was dressed head to toe in all black clothing – as was favored by Alchemists – with a purple baldric across one shoulder like the common soldiers wore.