Reinhardt
Arcane
- Joined
- Sep 4, 2015
- Messages
- 29,896
1.
Blame Codex.
-
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Completed [LP] Bleed for your Kingdom, officer! Codex plays Guns of Infinity
- Thread starter Lithium Flower
- Start date
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
You had such high hopes when you assumed command of your squadron, yet it seems that aside from a few brief interludes in the saddle, you have spent the entirety of your time since your promotion to captain wielding a pen, not a sabre.
Worse yet, your subordinate officers, men who do not have half your combat experience, are leading your dragoons on patrols which take them within eyesight of the enemy, risking their lives and displaying their valour while you sit uselessly at your desk.
It is infuriating, utterly infuriating.
-
One day, early in the afternoon, when the day is at its hottest, your small office receives an unexpected visitor.
"Good day, Sandoral," you manage with some confusion as you look up to see your bespectacled subordinate slip through the door. You know that the reedy Lieutenant's next patrol isn't due to depart for another two days, so what is he doing here?
"Sir," he begins, tugging at his collar, "might I speak to you about rescheduling my next assignment?"
You are not much enamoured of that idea; to reshuffle the patrol schedule would mean a great deal of paperwork would have to redone. "I trust you have a good reason for it?"
Your subordinate mops at his brow with the tail of his uniform cravat. "Uhm, yes sir. Her Ladyship the Countess of Welles is holding a salon three days hence, and I would like to be present."
A salon? Sandoral wants you to throw the patrol schedule into disarray because he wishes to attend a lady's salon? Already, you can feel your eyes narrowing and the blood rushing to your face.
"I assure you, sir! It is not a social event!" the nervous young Lieutenant adds hurriedly. "There is to be a discussion of reforms in military doctrine based on the lessons we have learned in the past few years' campaigning. You have my word, sir, my interest is purely in the opportunity to develop my abilities as a King's officer."
In hindsight, that does seem like something a fellow like Sandoral would hold great interest in, not to mention something which is likely to sharpen your intellectual subordinate's head for command. However, that does not necessarily mean that you are willing to re-arrange three troops' worth of patrols just so Sandoral might spend an afternoon discussing tactics….
Does it?
1) "I'll not upend the entire patrol schedule just so that one junior officer might attend a salon."
2) "Very well, I shall humour you this once, but I'll not do it again."
3) "Consider it done, Lieutenant."
Worse yet, your subordinate officers, men who do not have half your combat experience, are leading your dragoons on patrols which take them within eyesight of the enemy, risking their lives and displaying their valour while you sit uselessly at your desk.
It is infuriating, utterly infuriating.
-
One day, early in the afternoon, when the day is at its hottest, your small office receives an unexpected visitor.
"Good day, Sandoral," you manage with some confusion as you look up to see your bespectacled subordinate slip through the door. You know that the reedy Lieutenant's next patrol isn't due to depart for another two days, so what is he doing here?
"Sir," he begins, tugging at his collar, "might I speak to you about rescheduling my next assignment?"
You are not much enamoured of that idea; to reshuffle the patrol schedule would mean a great deal of paperwork would have to redone. "I trust you have a good reason for it?"
Your subordinate mops at his brow with the tail of his uniform cravat. "Uhm, yes sir. Her Ladyship the Countess of Welles is holding a salon three days hence, and I would like to be present."
A salon? Sandoral wants you to throw the patrol schedule into disarray because he wishes to attend a lady's salon? Already, you can feel your eyes narrowing and the blood rushing to your face.
"I assure you, sir! It is not a social event!" the nervous young Lieutenant adds hurriedly. "There is to be a discussion of reforms in military doctrine based on the lessons we have learned in the past few years' campaigning. You have my word, sir, my interest is purely in the opportunity to develop my abilities as a King's officer."
In hindsight, that does seem like something a fellow like Sandoral would hold great interest in, not to mention something which is likely to sharpen your intellectual subordinate's head for command. However, that does not necessarily mean that you are willing to re-arrange three troops' worth of patrols just so Sandoral might spend an afternoon discussing tactics….
Does it?
1) "I'll not upend the entire patrol schedule just so that one junior officer might attend a salon."
2) "Very well, I shall humour you this once, but I'll not do it again."
3) "Consider it done, Lieutenant."
As of the Summer of the 610th year of the Old Imperial Era.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 22
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 398
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 26%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 72% Cynicism: 28%
Ruthlessness: 33% Mercy: 67%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 22
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 398
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 26%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 72% Cynicism: 28%
Ruthlessness: 33% Mercy: 67%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 39%
Morale: 44%
Loyalty: 45%
Strength: 85%
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 39%
Morale: 44%
Loyalty: 45%
Strength: 85%
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
Look at the contents of the spoilers. I didn't do any of this, I simply copy-pasted the two spoilers from the previous post and all this bbcode gets added AFTER I press post/save edit.
When I try to remove the bbcode but keep the spoilers, it adds itself back in. I have to delete all the code, save post, then add spoilers. Sure, this is a very small inconvenience, but it is annoying and boggles the mind nonetheless.
Basically looks like the text editor really shits itself when you copy-paste bbcode from one post to another, but only sometimes.
When I try to remove the bbcode but keep the spoilers, it adds itself back in. I have to delete all the code, save post, then add spoilers. Sure, this is a very small inconvenience, but it is annoying and boggles the mind nonetheless.
Basically looks like the text editor really shits itself when you copy-paste bbcode from one post to another, but only sometimes.
2.
3. Perhaps we'll get stuck in the saddle soon enough, eh?
Tigranes
Arcane
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2009
- Messages
- 10,350
More or less. Also likes to go nuts when it's nested inside. The magic of BB.
voite 2.
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
Sandoral breaks out into a wide smile, a mix of joy and relief. "Thank you, sir!" he blurts out.
"I shall have Lieutenant Blaylock take your patrol, and you may have the one after," you reply, already visualising the new schedule in your head. "I shall arrange the paperwork tonight."
"Yes sir!" your subordinate replies, his expression animated with a singular excitement. "Thank you again, sir!"
You catch yourself smiling a little. In his current state, Sandoral resembles nothing less than a bespectacled puppy being offered a bone. Saints above, had you been like him once?
"You are welcome, Lieutenant," you say, still smiling. "Dismissed."
-
Rearranging the patrol schedule proves to be a daunting task. First, you have to order Marion to the King's headquarters to request that the previously submitted schedule be cancelled. Then, you must fill in a new schedule and all of the attached forms that must go with it. You spend the evening informing your subordinates and fielding the angry yet entirely understandable complaints that soon issue from the officers and men whose liberty must be cancelled in order to accommodate Sandoral's request.
In the end, it is nearly midnight by the time you are finished. When you go to bed, you are happy enough just to have the matter dealt with.
Alas, your relief proves premature.
The first ugly rumours regarding Welles's salon reach your ears the day after Sandoral leaves for his belated patrol. It appears that when the group of mostly young junior officers met to discuss the state of the King's Army, the tenor of their discussions quickly turned insubordinate. According to the officers' club gossip related to you by your other lieutenants, the attendees spoke of an end to the purchase of commissions, forcing prospective officers to attend training schools like common clerks, and even of the abolishment of the regimental system, ideas fit to give the more hidebound senior officers of the King's Army apoplexy.
The fact that one of your subordinates was present will no doubt not do much good for your reputation. Few things say that one is incapable of controlling one's own subordinates like being in command of a known radical.
Worse yet, when Sandoral reports in from his patrol, he eagerly informs you of his intention to attend a second meeting.
"It shall be next Tuesday, sir," he relates to you, oblivious to your darkening expression. "As I return from my next patrol on the Monday, I'll not need to request another reordering of the patrol schedule, so I hope you have no objections to my going."
"On the contrary, your attendance of these salons must stop."
"I have no objection."
"You may attend, if you relate to me the substance of the discussions afterwards."
"I shall have Lieutenant Blaylock take your patrol, and you may have the one after," you reply, already visualising the new schedule in your head. "I shall arrange the paperwork tonight."
"Yes sir!" your subordinate replies, his expression animated with a singular excitement. "Thank you again, sir!"
You catch yourself smiling a little. In his current state, Sandoral resembles nothing less than a bespectacled puppy being offered a bone. Saints above, had you been like him once?
"You are welcome, Lieutenant," you say, still smiling. "Dismissed."
-
Rearranging the patrol schedule proves to be a daunting task. First, you have to order Marion to the King's headquarters to request that the previously submitted schedule be cancelled. Then, you must fill in a new schedule and all of the attached forms that must go with it. You spend the evening informing your subordinates and fielding the angry yet entirely understandable complaints that soon issue from the officers and men whose liberty must be cancelled in order to accommodate Sandoral's request.
In the end, it is nearly midnight by the time you are finished. When you go to bed, you are happy enough just to have the matter dealt with.
Alas, your relief proves premature.
The first ugly rumours regarding Welles's salon reach your ears the day after Sandoral leaves for his belated patrol. It appears that when the group of mostly young junior officers met to discuss the state of the King's Army, the tenor of their discussions quickly turned insubordinate. According to the officers' club gossip related to you by your other lieutenants, the attendees spoke of an end to the purchase of commissions, forcing prospective officers to attend training schools like common clerks, and even of the abolishment of the regimental system, ideas fit to give the more hidebound senior officers of the King's Army apoplexy.
The fact that one of your subordinates was present will no doubt not do much good for your reputation. Few things say that one is incapable of controlling one's own subordinates like being in command of a known radical.
Worse yet, when Sandoral reports in from his patrol, he eagerly informs you of his intention to attend a second meeting.
"It shall be next Tuesday, sir," he relates to you, oblivious to your darkening expression. "As I return from my next patrol on the Monday, I'll not need to request another reordering of the patrol schedule, so I hope you have no objections to my going."
"On the contrary, your attendance of these salons must stop."
"I have no objection."
"You may attend, if you relate to me the substance of the discussions afterwards."
As of the Summer of the 610th year of the Old Imperial Era.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 22
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 398
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 26%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 72% Cynicism: 28%
Ruthlessness: 33% Mercy: 67%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 22
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 398
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 26%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 72% Cynicism: 28%
Ruthlessness: 33% Mercy: 67%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 39%
Morale: 42%
Loyalty: 45%
Strength: 85%
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 39%
Morale: 42%
Loyalty: 45%
Strength: 85%
3
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
Sandoral breaks out into a broad grin. "Of course, sir! I am sure you will find it all very fascinating, as well."
Perhaps you will, but more importantly, you find it an excellent compromise. Sandoral will still be able to attend his precious salon, while you will be able to catch any dangerous or insubordinate ideas that your guileless subordinate might be exposed to long before they have time to take root.
If your Lieutenant shows any sign of catching on to the thought processes behind your decision, he gives no indication of it. He is still beside himself with joy when you dismiss him.
Perhaps he will be less pleased when he realises exactly how much damage he is doing to his good name by attaching himself to the growing rumours of a cabal of radicals within the King's division. Then again, you don't have much reason to be pleased about that either; your reputation will no doubt suffer for it as well.
As promised, Sandoral returns to you on the evening of the following Tuesday, bursting with enthusiasm. Over a bottle of brandy, he summarises the topics of the salon's discussion. While your Lieutenant tries his best to explain, more than a little of it goes right over your head. It seems that you are better suited to the task of fighting in campaigns than to the task of studying them. Still, very little of what Sandoral describes seems particularly revolutionary to you. Perhaps the rumourmongers were mistaken?
As for Sandoral, he appears to enjoy discussing the ideas brought to the surface by Welles's salon quite thoroughly, so much so that he seems more than happy to offer to return again to speak further when you have some time to spare from your desk work.
You see no reason to refuse.
-
Weeks pass. The days grow longer and hotter, and still the King sits within the walls of Solokovil with the bulk of his troops. Every day, you continue to arrange and send out fresh scouting parties in the morning and receive the reports of returning ones in the afternoon.
Every time, the news is the same: the Antari forces at Mhillanovil remain encamped before the city, unmoving.
Meanwhile, the news from the south grows more and more dire. Prince Khorobirit has invested and almost encircled Fort Kharan, while the bulk of his army faces the Duke of Havenport's entrenched regiments across a stretch of river north of Kharangia. A battle of reckoning seems only to be a matter of time.
At the end of your second month in Solokovil, something else comes from the south as well: mail.
-
Most of the letters are of a very ordinary sort: receipts from your banker, a few routine letters from home, back copies of the Aetoria Gazette, letters for your subordinates, which must be routed through their commanding officer (meaning you). In other words, nothing out of the ordinary.
What does catch your notice is the date on one of the letters. It is then that you realise that it has been over three years since you were promoted to captain. You now have the seniority to buy a promotion to major, as soon as you gather the funds. The elevation in rank wouldn't bring you any immediate benefits save a marginal increase in pay, but it would certainly open up opportunities in future, not to mention allow you to begin piling up seniority for your next step up the table of ranks.
It would be a simple matter to write to the Duke of Cunaris in Noringia. Surely, he could quite easily prevail upon Lieutenant-colonel Keane to sell his old major's commission to you.
Yes, I would very much like to be a major.
No, now is not the time for it.
With things the way they are, you would rather save your money and your effort.
There will be other opportunities to buy a promotion, better ones. You are patient enough to wait for them.
-
All that remains is one letter on the bottom of the pile, a sea-stained thing of folded vellum, held closed by the seal of the Hunters of Wolfswood.
Sir Alaric,
I write to thank you for pledging your support to our most noble cause, and to inform you, sir, of the events which have come to pass in the year since my previous letter.
The past few months have been ones of great progress. I have been truly proud to know that Enrique, so dear to me, was also beloved by so many of this country's great and good. Many have flocked to us, as you have, pledging their support to see the legacy of our great and ancient house preserved. Soon, we will begin the process of elevating my lost son to sainthood in earnest.
It is here that I must regret to inform you that I would require a favour of you. The process that stands before us is one which shall require a great sum of money, far more than what the depleted coffers of our house can afford. Any donation which you might be able to offer would aid our cause substantially.
Again, I thank you for the support you have shown thus far, and I remain,
Lady Frederika d'al Hunter, Dowager Viscountess of Wolfswood
The process of elevating someone to sainthood is not a cheap one. Land must be bought, a vigil flame must be set up, men must be hired to guard it. It is an endeavour beyond the means of all but the wealthiest noble houses. Thus, it is hardly extraordinary for the dowager viscountess to be asking for financial assistance from those who have already pledged their support.
The question is, can you afford to send any?
1) Fifty crown would be a fair donation for a man of my position.
2) I can afford to be generous, and I shall be; I send 250 crown.
3) I've not the money to spare for a donation.
Perhaps you will, but more importantly, you find it an excellent compromise. Sandoral will still be able to attend his precious salon, while you will be able to catch any dangerous or insubordinate ideas that your guileless subordinate might be exposed to long before they have time to take root.
If your Lieutenant shows any sign of catching on to the thought processes behind your decision, he gives no indication of it. He is still beside himself with joy when you dismiss him.
Perhaps he will be less pleased when he realises exactly how much damage he is doing to his good name by attaching himself to the growing rumours of a cabal of radicals within the King's division. Then again, you don't have much reason to be pleased about that either; your reputation will no doubt suffer for it as well.
As promised, Sandoral returns to you on the evening of the following Tuesday, bursting with enthusiasm. Over a bottle of brandy, he summarises the topics of the salon's discussion. While your Lieutenant tries his best to explain, more than a little of it goes right over your head. It seems that you are better suited to the task of fighting in campaigns than to the task of studying them. Still, very little of what Sandoral describes seems particularly revolutionary to you. Perhaps the rumourmongers were mistaken?
As for Sandoral, he appears to enjoy discussing the ideas brought to the surface by Welles's salon quite thoroughly, so much so that he seems more than happy to offer to return again to speak further when you have some time to spare from your desk work.
You see no reason to refuse.
-
Weeks pass. The days grow longer and hotter, and still the King sits within the walls of Solokovil with the bulk of his troops. Every day, you continue to arrange and send out fresh scouting parties in the morning and receive the reports of returning ones in the afternoon.
Every time, the news is the same: the Antari forces at Mhillanovil remain encamped before the city, unmoving.
Meanwhile, the news from the south grows more and more dire. Prince Khorobirit has invested and almost encircled Fort Kharan, while the bulk of his army faces the Duke of Havenport's entrenched regiments across a stretch of river north of Kharangia. A battle of reckoning seems only to be a matter of time.
At the end of your second month in Solokovil, something else comes from the south as well: mail.
-
Most of the letters are of a very ordinary sort: receipts from your banker, a few routine letters from home, back copies of the Aetoria Gazette, letters for your subordinates, which must be routed through their commanding officer (meaning you). In other words, nothing out of the ordinary.
What does catch your notice is the date on one of the letters. It is then that you realise that it has been over three years since you were promoted to captain. You now have the seniority to buy a promotion to major, as soon as you gather the funds. The elevation in rank wouldn't bring you any immediate benefits save a marginal increase in pay, but it would certainly open up opportunities in future, not to mention allow you to begin piling up seniority for your next step up the table of ranks.
It would be a simple matter to write to the Duke of Cunaris in Noringia. Surely, he could quite easily prevail upon Lieutenant-colonel Keane to sell his old major's commission to you.
Yes, I would very much like to be a major.
No, now is not the time for it.
With things the way they are, you would rather save your money and your effort.
There will be other opportunities to buy a promotion, better ones. You are patient enough to wait for them.
-
All that remains is one letter on the bottom of the pile, a sea-stained thing of folded vellum, held closed by the seal of the Hunters of Wolfswood.
Sir Alaric,
I write to thank you for pledging your support to our most noble cause, and to inform you, sir, of the events which have come to pass in the year since my previous letter.
The past few months have been ones of great progress. I have been truly proud to know that Enrique, so dear to me, was also beloved by so many of this country's great and good. Many have flocked to us, as you have, pledging their support to see the legacy of our great and ancient house preserved. Soon, we will begin the process of elevating my lost son to sainthood in earnest.
It is here that I must regret to inform you that I would require a favour of you. The process that stands before us is one which shall require a great sum of money, far more than what the depleted coffers of our house can afford. Any donation which you might be able to offer would aid our cause substantially.
Again, I thank you for the support you have shown thus far, and I remain,
Lady Frederika d'al Hunter, Dowager Viscountess of Wolfswood
The process of elevating someone to sainthood is not a cheap one. Land must be bought, a vigil flame must be set up, men must be hired to guard it. It is an endeavour beyond the means of all but the wealthiest noble houses. Thus, it is hardly extraordinary for the dowager viscountess to be asking for financial assistance from those who have already pledged their support.
The question is, can you afford to send any?
1) Fifty crown would be a fair donation for a man of my position.
2) I can afford to be generous, and I shall be; I send 250 crown.
3) I've not the money to spare for a donation.
As of the Summer of the 610th year of the Old Imperial Era.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 22
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 413
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 24%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 72% Cynicism: 28%
Ruthlessness: 33% Mercy: 67%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 22
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 413
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 24%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 72% Cynicism: 28%
Ruthlessness: 33% Mercy: 67%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 39%
Morale: 42%
Loyalty: 45%
Strength: 85%
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 39%
Morale: 42%
Loyalty: 45%
Strength: 85%
Last edited:
1. We do what we will in this situation. But even we have means to consider. The man is dead and we are alive, and have many issues to consider.
1
Lithium Flower
Arcane
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2016
- Messages
- 1,832
You write a reply to the dowager viscountess, reaffirming your support and informing her of your donation. In the grand scheme of things, the sum you have decided to send is a decidedly modest one, but you are no great power of the realm with thousands of crowns to spare. You are merely a poor baron's son and a soldier of middling rank. The dowager would be presumptuous indeed if she had expected more out of you.
With your reply finished, you draft a second letter, this time to your banker in Aetoria, ordering him to transfer the necessary funds and draw up the required bank draft.
This done, you fold and seal both messages, setting them aside to be sent tomorrow morning. You have work still to do before the day is done, and it is best you do it, lest tomorrow's patrol set out without ammunition or rations.
-
With your reply finished, you draft a second letter, this time to your banker in Aetoria, ordering him to transfer the necessary funds and draw up the required bank draft.
This done, you fold and seal both messages, setting them aside to be sent tomorrow morning. You have work still to do before the day is done, and it is best you do it, lest tomorrow's patrol set out without ammunition or rations.
-
The next day, you return to business as usual. Despite ever more dire news from Havenport's division in the south, the King persists in ordering more seemingly pointless scouting missions.
The endless, mind-numbing routine is wearing on your subordinates as well. Every time they return, they seem more surly, more short-tempered. The frustration begins to show on their faces every time you hand them orders to ride to the same vantage point along the same roads and reconnoitre the same points.
It is at a working breakfast, on one of the rare occasions when all three of your lieutenants are not on patrol, that they finally give voice to their anger.
"I'm beginning to think the King has no idea what he's doing," Blaylock growls, a step short of the fine line between bluntness and sedition as he glowers behind his plate of lamb cutlets. "We've been riding about in circles for ten weeks now, making ourselves useless while Havenport faces off against Khorobirit's entire bloody army."
"I'm sure His Majesty's got a plan, Blaylock," Lord Renard drawls as he sits back, gently swirling the last mouthful of claret in his glass, "though I ain't the slightest idea what it be."
"Whatever it is, I hope the King finds its result worth the running all of his cavalry into the ground," Sandoral interjects, the soft-spoken officer's voice edged with a tired frustration. "This constant patrolling is sapping the men of their energy and their patience."
Your officers turn to you, the weariness plain on their faces, tacitly soliciting your opinion.
1) "His Majesty has a plan, and we must have faith in it."
2) "I share your sentiments, gentlemen, but we must remain patient."
3) "The King's plan better be brilliant, for all the grief he's put us through."
4) "I fear Blaylock's suspicions may have some merit."
The endless, mind-numbing routine is wearing on your subordinates as well. Every time they return, they seem more surly, more short-tempered. The frustration begins to show on their faces every time you hand them orders to ride to the same vantage point along the same roads and reconnoitre the same points.
It is at a working breakfast, on one of the rare occasions when all three of your lieutenants are not on patrol, that they finally give voice to their anger.
"I'm beginning to think the King has no idea what he's doing," Blaylock growls, a step short of the fine line between bluntness and sedition as he glowers behind his plate of lamb cutlets. "We've been riding about in circles for ten weeks now, making ourselves useless while Havenport faces off against Khorobirit's entire bloody army."
"I'm sure His Majesty's got a plan, Blaylock," Lord Renard drawls as he sits back, gently swirling the last mouthful of claret in his glass, "though I ain't the slightest idea what it be."
"Whatever it is, I hope the King finds its result worth the running all of his cavalry into the ground," Sandoral interjects, the soft-spoken officer's voice edged with a tired frustration. "This constant patrolling is sapping the men of their energy and their patience."
Your officers turn to you, the weariness plain on their faces, tacitly soliciting your opinion.
1) "His Majesty has a plan, and we must have faith in it."
2) "I share your sentiments, gentlemen, but we must remain patient."
3) "The King's plan better be brilliant, for all the grief he's put us through."
4) "I fear Blaylock's suspicions may have some merit."
As of the Summer of the 610th year of the Old Imperial Era.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 22
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 463
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 24%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 72% Cynicism: 28%
Ruthlessness: 33% Mercy: 67%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sir Alaric d'al Ortiga
Age: 22
Rank: Captain
Wealth: 463
Income: 15
Soldiering: 75%
Charisma: 43%
Intellect: 5%
Reputation: 24%
Health: 65%
Idealism: 72% Cynicism: 28%
Ruthlessness: 33% Mercy: 67%
You are a Knight of the Red, having the right to wear bane-hardened armour and wield a bane-runed sword.
You have no decorations as of yet.
Sixth Squadron, Royal Dragoons
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 39%
Morale: 38%
Loyalty: 45%
Strength: 85%
Senior NCO: Staff-sergeant Hernandes
Discipline: 39%
Morale: 38%
Loyalty: 45%
Strength: 85%
2
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