Chapter 6

The great hall was filled with young men, young women, and veteran warriors. They were celebrating their last night at the citadel with a large feast. Row after row of tables were piled with roasted chickens, bread, green beans, and other foods that would be rare once they left on their adventure. It might be a while before they missed those foods, but they would miss them before the adventure was over.

Looking at all of the young man and women gathered together, Sid couldn't help but feel responsible for each one of them. Sid had been surprised when father after father had come to him to volunteer their son for the adventure. He had been shocked when some of those same men had volunteered their daughters for camp duties. His initial thought had been that they were being passed off as camp whores, but he was wise enough not to voice his thoughts.

Later, Connor told him that the women would prepare the meals and serve as nurses.

It had taken some time, but they had whittled two hundred volunteers down to a hundred and ten people. Fifty of the young men had never been on an adventure although all said their fathers had trained them. Having seen the battle scars on their fathers, Sid believed them. Thirty of the men were veterans of at least one campaign, with ten of them holding many years of experience.

Five of the veterans were scouts and would range ahead of the rest of the troop. There were ten specialists including two sappers, two healers, a blacksmith, a siege engineer, two armorers, a vet, and a wagon master. There were ten young men who would drive the eight wagons of supplies and ten young women who would take care of food and nursing.

Peterson and Connor were both coming along on the campaign.

Peterson would be responsible for getting supplies along the way while Connor would help manage the troops. Sid had assigned Barson to act as Peterson's assistant. Barson was happy with that arrangement even though Peterson had done nothing except shrug his shoulders.

Sid turned to Connor and asked, "Will we be ready to leave tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, we're ready to leave. The wagons are loaded, the troops are ready, and the weather is good," Connor answered with a negligent wave of his hand. Sid had come to recognize the wave as the ultimate sign that Connor felt he had everything under control.

When his open hand turned into a fist, then it was a sure sign that things were not going well.

Although they had gone over it several times the past few days, Sid asked, "So we start off slow and then work our way up to a full march?"

"Yes. You have to remember that most of our men haven't ever been on an adventure. Sure they think they're tough, but they've never had to march for a month solid. For the first three days we'll make about three quarters of a day's march each day. That will help toughen up the men for life on the trail and we won't lose any of them. We'll slowly increase the pace so that we make good time."

With the wagons, the women, and the cattle, Sid didn't think they'd be setting a blistering pace regardless of what Connor said.

He'd be surprised if they could set a pace of twenty miles per day.

From the center of the room a bunch of young men started laughing as Olaf did a little dance. Pointing to him, Sid said, "Olaf sure was pleased to be put in charge of the cattle."

"He's the best man for the job," Connor replied with a grin. When he had told Olaf that he was in charge of herding the cattle along with the troops, the big man had picked him up and shouted in joy.

It was very seldom that he had gotten such a reaction when assigning what was normally a dirty task to someone. Peterson had taken the young man with him when he went to purchase the cattle and had been pleased with the young man's eye for quality.

Shaking his head, he said, "This is the most talented group of young men that I've ever put together. We've got Smithson who can help the blacksmith and is darn near a Smithy in his own right.

Taylor is good with a needle and thread. Nyles is good with a hammer and will be a help to our siege engineer and wagon master. That Barson is a jewel in the rough. A few weeks more working with Peterson and he'll be about as good of a logistics support person as I've met."

Sid nodded his agreement. He'd been impressed by the diversity of skills represented in the group of young men. It made sense since they were all sons of adventurers who had been trained by their fathers. He had five groups of fifteen men each who were dedicated fighters. Each group was lead by experienced veterans.

The remaining young men were serving as field apprentices to the specialists. Sid said, "We'll be getting more people to work with us over time. I'm sure that some of the slaves that we release will want to join our fight. I'm sure that by the time we hit one of the large cities we'll have an army of over a thousand people."

"Some? I imagine that all of the men will want to fight and a significant majority of the women as well," Connor said. He knew that after being raped many of the women would be out for blood.

He feared that they would be difficult to control. He added, "You could easily end up with an army of five thousand."

Sid frowned at the idea of leading an army of that size. Looking across the room at the hundred young men and women brought a knot to his stomach. The idea that their lives depended on how well he led them was truly frightening. He said, "We'll have to leave some behind to work on the captured farms to provide us with food."

"Don't worry about that," Peterson said. He was convinced that a good percentage of the freed folks would want to stay and work the land as their own. The chance to start over would be too much for many of those who had been farmers to refuse.

"I'm worried about senior leadership," Sid said gesturing around the room. Explaining what he meant, he added, "When we get to a thousand or more people, we won't have enough experienced leaders to oversee everyone. Only three of our experienced veterans have leadership potential."

"You're right. However, by the time that our army grows to that level, this lot will be experienced. Many of them already have leadership qualities, just not the necessary knowledge. Three months of battles will change the situation a lot."

Sid thought about it. He knew that the three most important ranks were the Private, the Sergeant, and the Colonel. Privates did all of the work, Sergeants directed the Privates, and the Colonels utilized the Sergeants to achieve the objectives set by the Generals. The intermediate ranks served to expand the capabilities of the key ranks. In an army of this technological level, it was just the four ranks that mattered. Sid asked, "Are we still waiting for one more man?"

"Not any longer," replied Connor pointing to a tall aristocratic man who had just entered the hall.

"Masterson?" Peterson asked on spotting the man. The loathing in his voice was clearly obvious.

"Yes, Masterson. He's the best strategist that I know," Connor answered.

"He's an arrogant jerk."

Masterson sauntered to the table at the head of the room, picking up a goblet of watered wine on his way. Stopping in front of Sid, he looked down at the young man with clear disdain. In a condescending voice, he said, "So this is the Jones pup that we're to nursemaid."

In a single smooth motion, Sid drew his sword and had the tip at the man's throat. He had started his move after the man had said the word pup and finished it before the man had said the word nursemaid. Masterson, much to his credit, only spilled a little of his wine in reaction. Attempting a show of bravado, he tried to use his goblet to push the blade out of position while he said, "The pup has a bite."

The fact that he was unsuccessful in budging the blade was not lost on Masterson and a look of real concern crossed his face. In a calm voice, Sid said, "The pup has the point of his blade a conch thickness from your life's blood. He would like an apology or the distance will narrow quickly."

Peterson was grinning while watching the drama unfold. He was hoping that Masterson wouldn't apologize and his disappointment was clear when Masterson said, "I apologize for my rude behavior.

You are quite correct in calling me out on it."

"Your apology is accepted. Have a seat here at the table," Sid said as he returned his sword to its sheath. Once it was sheathed, he sat back in his chair.

Masterson said, "You are clearly of the same stock as Gerald. He didn't tolerate insults either."

"I don't tolerate insults directed at me or those who serve with me," Sid said lightly despite the slight threat involved in his words.

Peterson laughed and patted Sid on the back. The mirth in his voice was obvious when he said, "This is going to be a fun adventure."

Sid looked over at Peterson surprised by the laughter. In all of his dealings with the older man up to that time, the man had been sparse in his words and dour in temperament. He understood the man's attitude. Peterson knew that if he failed in his job, they could lose a war without ever engaging the enemy. Starvation, thirst, and disease could kill troops in much greater numbers than a battle. His first adventure had been one of total misery created by a failure of logistics on the part of another.

The unusual behavior wasn't lost on Masterson and he commented,

"I think this is the first time I've ever seen you happy when getting a good deal on fifty pounds of grain wasn't involved."

"He enjoyed seeing you get put in your place like that almost as much as I did. You might be a brilliant strategist, but you destroy troop morale. Let's see if you can request supplies ahead of time and limit casualties on this campaign," Connor said.

"What do you mean?" Masterson asked indignant at the accusation.

"I mean that you should put some of your strategic thinking into what happens before the engagement and not just on moving men around like so many little markers on a board game," Connor answered.

"I thought you said that he was the best."

Nodding his head, Connor answered, "He is. He can take an army that is outnumbered thirty to one and still win the engagement. The problem is that he'll tell Peterson that he needs a thousand staffs ten minutes before the fight begins. Peterson has to run around like a chicken with its head cut off getting everything together. Even worse, he'll accept more casualties than necessary just to win with style."

Sid examined Masterson as if he were a bug under a glass for a full minute. Turning to Peterson, he asked, "How did my Uncle react the first time that he did that kind of stuff?"

"Take a guess."

"He shot him in the ass with an arrow?"

Connor laughed at the idea, but answered, "After the first time, he assigned Masterson to a unit to fight beside the men. He decided which unit he would assign him to at the last minute. Usually it was the one that stood the least chance of surviving."

Sid smiled and said, "I'll probably do the same thing, but I'll shoot him in the ass with an arrow first. I'll do the same for any man who jeopardizes my men unnecessarily. If someone does it twice, I'll kill him."

Feeling like Sid was being over dramatic, Masterson said, "Big talk."

Eyes flashing, Sid hit the table with his fist. The sound echoed through the room and all eyes turned to stare at him. In a low growl, Sid said, "I had seventy fathers in here telling me to take care of their sons and daughters. Anyone who puts me in a position where I have to look in a father's eyes and tell him that their child died because some asshole threw away his life is going to suffer. I do not kid about things of this seriousness. Do I make myself clear?"