The events of Late-Limestone, 1020Gerald walked down the hallway, flanked by four of the Elite Guardsmen of Berzuntîr. He was nervous, as he always was when pulled in front of General Rakust Geartrot, and it showed in the way his spear shook slightly in his grasp. He was marched into the main hallway, lined with the pillars engraved with rules of old, and saw his old squad mate Stravitch standing at ease, his own four escorts circled behind him.
Coming to attention beside Stravitch, Gerald looked upon the stony face of The General out here in the east, and his adviser Urist. In the silence of the hallway, Gerald could hear the General grinding his teeth, his broad jaw working hard as he bored holes through them with his stare.
"You two... are a disgrace. An utter disgrace for our order!" The General shouted the last two words, their echoes heard down the stony hallways. "I break your squads apart in the hopes, the simple hopes, that that would instill order among the groups. And what do I get? What do I GET! I get two separate squads of colossal screw-ups, prancing through the battlefields like they're going out for a day of shopping and shenanigans!"
"Sir, that's no' entirely fair, we did-" Gerald Started.
"You, Captain Fountainspring, need to silence your flapping gums immediately. I gave you the simplest of tasks - hold up the marching elven armies long enough for Captain Fillwhip to make off with the High Guard. And you turned tail and fled, leaving your men behind to get slaughtered. You're one of the Glass Knights, a craven with his toy shield and spear. If you hadn't helped break the first siege of Uramralin, I'd have you swinging from the cliffs by your neck. Instead, I have to suffer your incompetence, in not even holding a path for a few hours."
"You're bein' a bit harsh on him, aren't you?" Stravitch said, grinning. "Not everyone-"
"ENOUGH," The General roared, "It is due only to the graces of your Baron Uncle that you're not playing gate guard in some backwater swamp burb! Instead, I have to come leave the planning rooms, leave the armies, leave the battlefields, to come down here and scream at a psychopath who can't follow the simplest orders! What was your mission."
"To bring back Coce Bonehorns."
"And where is he."
"I brought him back, he's in the storeroom."
"He's dead! Do you even know why we wanted him alive?"
"I don't really
care why he was wanted alive. When was the last time you saw battle, General? Because you may not remember this, but people are trying to kill you. And when they try to kill you, sometimes it's impossible to stop them without killing them back."
The General ignored him, pressing on once he had stopped talking. "We wanted Coce, because we could have used him to barter the release of two of our lieutenants from their prisons. We don't have a bartering chip now, he doesn't even have a head."
"He has a head," Stravitch complained. "He's just dead."
"You sewed on a head from a different body," Urist the Adviser snapped. "It fell off when we were moving it!"
Shaking his head, the General folded his arms across his chest, baring a mouthful of false copper teeth. "I've had enough of this. From this point on, you're being reassigned. You're being given a
special task. Ones that only two decorated soldiers such as yourselves can accomplish."
"Wh' task is that, Sir?"
"To the other soldiers, you're on a daring raid of the Elven Capital to try and capture the Lord Druid's sons. That should spread soon enough, and hopefully they'll pull their northern armies back to the capital and buy us some time.
"Instead, you'll be traveling south to Quogubino on the edge of the sea. You're to get a boat and take it east Atthempos, the Twins at the River's Mouth, and from there head to Imushmor in the Nish Neth Mountains."
"Nish Neth? Sir, tha's not e'en close t' the fightin'."
"I know. From this point forward, you're supplymen. There's a large shipment of ballista parts and ammo that needs to be delivered to Stukos Matul. We've received pigeons from them asking for aid - the elves on the other side of the mountain chains haven't been seen in years, but they'd rather be prepared. In return, they'll be sending up two armies - all the men they're able - to push the elves southern borders."
Stravitch glanced at Gerald briefly, before turning back to the general, his eyes narrowed. "We're going to play at delivery boys? I'm not doing it."
"You'll do it. You'll both do it. Or I swear when we send that elf's corpse back to them it'll be your head sewn on the body, and Captain Fountainspring's will be an added gift. Now get saddled. I want you leaving at first light tomorrow."