Gerad – 2nd of Madrot, yr. 143 AV
Men say that the first instance of bloodshed is telling: it is the mark by which a warrior will define himself. No matter how many battles are fought, that encounter will stay with him just like the caress of their first lover. For Gerad Caedmon, who had been trained for this day since an early age, the first conflict was but a taste of many that would follow: cold, effective brutality.
Dawn greeted the advancing force with a darkened sky overcast with clouds. A small army five lances strong approached the top of the hill. The warriors were armored the same, a small sea of men with shield, breastplate and armored skirt. Gerad led his lance forward, his four brothers marching in a tight square behind him.
The army halted, following the foremost unit. Gerad and his lance stopped, looking forward at strict attention. Feelings of nervousness and anticipation clutched his breast, but he would not let it distract him. This was his destiny, and he would meet it with resolve. The lance commanders were called forth for planning before the assault. Gerad jogged forward, leaving his brothers standing at attention.
The army commander cut a striking figure in the few rays of escaped sunlight, gazing down on the village before them. Gerad looked upon Dmitri Arcus with admiration and a touch of awe. He had led them here, and he would carry them forward to victory. From this vantage point Gerad could see the village of Krasburgh open before them. It was a small farming stead, flanked on many sides by green rows of corn. The army could not be seen from the city where they stood, concealed by the massive hill.
“Krasburgh is known to be a loyal village to the country of Ankila, and to the Calastian Hegemony.” Dmitri said, breaking the morning silence. “Yet in their time of need, they did not turn to us, the strength of the Hegemony. Instead they recruited mercenaries to deal with a supposed titanspawn threat. When the mercenaries, Polemides’ Skirmishers, demanded their payment, they found Krasburgh unable to pay. As most companies would, the Blood Axes claimed the town as their own until the debt was felt to be settled.”
“Calastia does not abide by claims of our citizenry or property. Krasburgh may be at fault, but we will remove this company.”
Dmitri was a true father to Gerad and his brothers. He had taught them the proper way to wield a spear and how best to use their shields. In those rare instances when Gerad had broken the rules, it was Dmitri who had punished him. The two had spent many a night debating military tactics, with Gerad asking question upon question. Dmitri turned and knelt, moving a few rocks and roots to form a crude map of the village.
“We will fall upon Krasburgh like a scorpion. Two lances will form a pincer on this side, and two will strike from this side. A scorpion though, will strike first with its stinger.” He looked up from the makeshift map, and met Gerad’s eyes.
“Gerad, your lance has the best runners. You will be the scorpion’s tail. Take your men and run behind the hills until you find the rear of Krasburgh. You will strike first and draw attention, while we will await your assault. When you begin, we will close in and crush this mercenary scum.”
Gerad saluted his commander, slamming his fist over his heart, and left immediately. He returned to his brothers, who waited at crisp attention. Barrikk, Levi, Leon, Pazzi. They varied in appearance and size, but he had watched them grow over the years. He had no fears going into battle with them by his side.
Others would (and had) said that these five were not truly brothers. They were Janissaries, each given or sold into the Hegemony by their parents years ago. Gerad had no memories of his birth parents, nor did he want to. The Hegemony had provided for him and sculpted him into the man he was now. He had known these four as long as he could remember, and those who would speak against it were envious of their brotherhood.
“We move to take the rear of the village.”
And they began to run, behind and across hills, unseen by any in the village. They kept a steady pace, running with spear in one hand and shield in the other. The moved through fields of corn grown to waist height. A few villagers noticed them as they neared, but they were farmers, and the sight of soldiers confused them. By the time they could think to move and warn the village, the lance would already be there.
No words were spoken as the five moved to the edge of the fields and onto the wheel-rutted dirt path leading up to the village. Their pace did not slow. Gerad spotted a crudely erected outpost at the edge of the buildings, large enough to hold two men in comfort. Standing outside of the dwelling were two men in ill-matched armor, no doubt taken from fallen enemies. Gerad signaled with two fingers and pointed in the direction of the outpost. He could sense Levi and Pazzi break and run to circle the small building.
The mercenaries were unaware as danger fell upon them. Gerad’s first strike was true, his spear piercing through the man’s chain shirt and into his shoulder. The man cried out in surprise and drew his sword from his scabbard. He was slow, fattened by excesses. Gerad struck again, but the spear did not find its mark. Gerad lifted his shield, easily blocking the mercenary’s slash. Once again, he struck a fierce blow, and this one pierced into the man’s neck, raining blood as he slid to the ground. The man grasped his neck, trying to staunch the wound, but Gerad was quick to finish the kill. He would trouble this town no more.
A horn sounded in the distance. The army would be advancing on the town, searching out these Skirmishers. Gerad turned to look at his brothers, Barrikk and Leon. Their foe had fallen also. He still clutched a spear exuding from his ribcage. Leon had dropped his shield, and was clutching his blood-soaked face. To his credit, he was not moaning in pain as a lesser man would have done. When he removed his hands, Gerad saw that his left eye was a ruined socket. It saddened him, but there was a task to be done.
“Can you still fight?”
Leon nodded, and knelt to retrieve his shield and spear. The other two moved out of the outpost with grim faces. Gerad noted blood splattered on their shields and skirts, but they were healthy.
“Forward into the village.”
Their next skirmish came against five mercenaries moving down the street to the south end of the village. They were better prepared, no doubt alarmed by the cry of the men Gerad’s lance had fought, but they also had a look of fear in their eyes. They knew that the Hegemony was descending upon this village.
The two groups crashed into another, swords and axes meeting shield and spears. Gerad took a wound to his side, but he fought forward, stabbing the man until he did not move. He saw Barrikk, the largest of their lance, punch one of the mercenaries after his spear had been broken. Gerad assisted Leon in finishing his enemy, and quickly their enemies lay before them. With cold determination, Gerad moved among the enemy, stabbing through their breast, ensuring that they were dead.
When victory was called out among the town and there were no enemies left to fight, Gerad moved to attend Dmitri. A soft, overfed man was pushed forward to stand before their commander. From the apologies that streamed forward, Gerad guessed that he was the mayor of Krasburgh.
“…we humble ourselves before the Hegemony. We were afraid that help would not arrive, and so we indebted ourselves to these madmen. They have no honor, and have taught us a painful lesson we will not soon forget. Thank you for coming to our aid, oh thank you.”
Dmitri listened to the man’s thanks, and then turned to Gerad.
“Tell the men to take what they need from the village. You have earned it.”
Dmitri turned back to the mayor, as if daring him to speak against the matter. Wisdom prevailed and the mayor remained silent.
“Let Krasburgh remember her lack of faith in her country, and bear this with what dignity you have remaining. It was your fault this happened, and you and I will speak on this at length.”
Gerad left his commander, feeling little pity for the mayor of Krasburgh.
