“We will establish training encampments, and provide weapons as needed. Two weeks of training, two weeks of deployment for each man. Then we establish cantonments near strategically important areas and use them to guard them, as well as work to build our defense. But then they return home and send the next man. That gradually trains our men and gets them familiar with what they are trying to defend before they’re forced to. I already have Sandoval working up an organizational list and table of requirements for the task.”
“That sounds expensive,” Mavone warned, glancing at me.
“So are funerals,” I countered. “We can’t just import mercenaries and hope they can prevail. We need to train our people how to fight, and then support them in doing so. These are their lands; they need to defend them.”
“That’s going to ruffle some feathers in some quarters, socially speaking,” Mavone pointed out, diplomatically.
“I’m the only bird whose feathers you need concern yourself with,” I challenged. “I’m the one in charge. I’m with Terl on this. If I want my peasants to take up arms, they will take up arms.”
“And if they revolt?” Mavone proposed, raising an eyebrow. Gilmora, where he was raised, had a history of violent peasant revolts. Armed peasantry were not favored in the cotton fiefs.
“Then I was doing a shitty job of taking care of them,” I countered.
“Still, I think we could manage to import sufficient chivalry to fortify the effort,” he proposed.
“Importing a bunch of knights to boss our peasants around isn’t going to work,” Terleman said, shaking his head. “Not even hiring professional mercenaries will work. We are just too spread out over too much chaotic terrain. While that actually helps us, in some ways, that is true only if we do not depend upon professionals for defense. Our entire people need to be able to fight, if we’re to prevail against the forces that are destined to come against us,” he assured.
“That implies combining civil and military efforts in the resettlement,” Mavone suggested, doubtfully.
“Of course,” I agreed. “We did a pretty good job of turning common Wilderlands peasants into good light infantry in Sevendor,” I reminded him. “Good enough to win a local war.”
“Infantry is one thing,” dismissed Terleman. “But with as much territory we have to defend, we need cavalry, if we’re going to have an advantage over the gurvani. And artillery,” he reminded me. “I have a meeting with Carmella later this week to discuss that, and fortifications. But we need all of them.”
“And a good many other things,” I nodded. “But we start with the infantry forces. Light infantry and archers, if for no better reason than they’re the easiest to train and equip. Most of these men know how to use bows already. Teaching them the rest will just take time and practice.”
The traditional division between infantry and cavalry did not provide an easy boundary to negotiate in Vanador. While fighting from horseback with lance and shield in full armor is a highly specialized skill, horsemanship in general was more widely practiced in the Wilderlands than elsewhere. We could, theoretically, manage to train some of them into decent mounted warriors, and we discussed the feasibility of doing just that. Skill in the saddle was not uncommon among the most common peasants, and some men were as adept with a long axe on horseback as they were on foot.
Traditionally in the Riverlands, a manor’s purpose was to support a knight and a few mounted squires as the core of a vague military unit known as a “lance.” On average, that meant at least four fighting men surrounding a mounted knight or sergeant, including infantry and archers. Indeed, feudal military force was estimated almost entirely by that measure, excepting professional mercenaries.
That system just couldn’t work in the Magelaw, the three of us decided. While we had some cavalry, in the traditional sense, the number of heavy lancers we could field was low in the early days of Vanador. Trained warhorses were in even shorter supply than those who could ride them, though that was expected to change as more were brought up from the south. Those cavalry we could field were either self-supporting or in the service of wealthier patrons who could support their livery and maintenance.
If Vanador needed troops, Terleman explained, I would have to call upon the militia. There was no way I could rely on the aristocracy for the bulk of our defense.
Thankfully, the common folk of the Wilderlands were not ignorant of war or the necessity of defending themselves. The freedmen were used to fighting for their survival, and the artisans and townsfolk from Tudry had endured many long years as a military outpost, and not a few attacks.
The people of the Magelaw would respond to a banner call not because their lord ordered them to, but because they understood the reality of the situation. If we were attacked and every man who could loose a shaft or hold a spear did not turn out, we were all destroyed: magelord, knight, and yeoman alike. If one manor was attacked, the surrounding manors were obligated to turn out for the war cry (a different horn call than the hue and cry). Not out of a sense of feudal obligation, but out of a duty to neighborly survival.
Many in my staff and among my friends, such as Azar and Astyral, were circumspect about the lack of a noble hierarchy in the Magelaw, in those early days, and saw my willingness to permit military arms to the common folk as a dangerous precedent to the established social order. But I really had no choice. Terleman was correct: we had to make the Vanadori a martial people if they were to remain a people at all.
“We begin with your personal guard,” Terleman lectured, as he outlined how to organize the professional soldiery, first. “That will be the core of the larger army, when deployed. We’ll design command structures and unit size to take advantage of a large influx of recruits, but that core will be vital,” he assured me.
“Currently there are about a hundred and fifty knights and men-at-arms in town, looking for employment, perhaps twice that many. They are expecting to be hired, actually,” he chuckled. “Most are Wilderlords, or former mercenaries from the 3rd Commando, or elsewhere. And then there are the Glorious Victors,” he added, wryly. Mavone smirked at the term.
“The Glorious Victors?” I asked, curious. “A mercenary company?”
“No, at least not yet. They are what the men who Lady Gatina hired from Timberwatch to travel to Enultramar by subterfuge, and lead the revolt which re-established Anguin are calling themselves,” Terleman grinned. “And, of course, that’s what the minstrels are calling them, because the Glorious Victors are paying them to. Many are returning to the Wilderlands, now that there service to the duchy is done. And they’re returning laden with riches and seeking new opportunities. Some look to serve with Marcadine in the Wilderlaw – and the good count sees each blade as a boon – but plenty have come north to Vorone. And word is that more are expected.”
“That was a mere eight hundred men,” Mavone reminded me, “but they are trained, vetted, and blooded. Good Wilderlord cavalrymen, mostly, with excellent combat skills. More, they are held in high esteem and are seeking both reward and adventure. Some have attracted large entourages in Enultramar, after their daring acts. I think we can persuade several of them to lead resettlements, or take up arms as your vassals. Others we can hire directly into your Guard. And almost all are well-horsed,” he added.
“I’ve considered the matter of cavalry,” I replied, “and while hiring directly is certainly one method, it doesn’t see to our long-term need for good horsemen.”
“You need a hereditary class to provide that,” Terleman frowned. “And farms to raise high-quality steeds. Horsemanship isn’t something that’s easily taught in a few weeks, either. It takes a lifetime of practice. Nor is breeding the beasts. That takes a specialized eye.”
“Which is why I’ve already persuaded a few ardent knights magi to come hold lands on our behalf. Men skilled in such things as horse breeding and lances. In particular, Lord Tyndal.”
That caught them both by surprise.
“Tyndal? You want
Tyndal to lead your private guard?” Terleman asked, skeptically. He had a good appreciation of Tyndal’s abilities, and counted him a fierce fighter, but he lacked confidence in his ability to command.
“No, I want Tyndal to become the Lord of Callierd,” I declared. I walked over to a map of the region on the wall, the largest one at the center of a constellation of maps. “Callierd is this region north of the northern ridge, between us and the mountains of the Kasari. The site of old Nandine, before it was destroyed in the war. The entire place is empty.”
“There’s no one left in Callierd,” Mavone frowned. “It was along the route of the invasion.”
“That’s why I want Tyndal there,” I explained. “From what I recall when I was looking for a place to settle, originally, that is good horse country.”
“He was your apprentice,” Mavone conceded. “He’s a good warmage. But do you think he’ll be an adequate vassal?” he asked, skeptically.
“The lad has a knack for understanding horseflesh,” Terleman conceded. “Indeed, he’s a bit too passionate about it, sometimes. He needs seasoning, but he’s a canny warrior.”
“He’s agreed to serve in whatever capacity I need, and I think he’s smart enough and powerful enough to try to restore that lost province from scratch,” I proposed. “Not only does it sit unguarded on our northern flank, it’s fertile. Once it had fifty thousand people inside its frontiers, with room to grow. I think it could be restored, with some careful attention and hard work.”
“And you think Tyndal is the man for that task? If you want to risk it,” Terleman shrugged. “Without Rondal around, perhaps he can be . . . contained.”
“He’s maturing,” Mavone countered, cautiously. “Now that his best friend is to marry, this might be just the project to keep him occupied.”
“Exactly my thinking,” I agreed. “And he’s loyal. I need good nobles close at hand who I can trust to respond to a banner call. Tyndal knows how to do that. Besides, I’ve already sent for him, and he’s on his way. With friends,” I added.
“He’ll need them, to populate that province,” Mavone agreed. “It’s a third the size of the entire plateau.”
“It was barren and all but deserted, at the time of the Great March,” I agreed. “That should give Tyndal plenty of room to work in. He did a great job of the Enultramar campaign, and then bested himself at Olum Seheri. He’s the right man for the job.”
“I have no serious objections,” Terleman offered. “If he can hold it, he can have it.”
“It protects our northern flank,” Mavone conceded. “And I do enjoy having the lad around. He keeps things . . . interesting.”
“I’m glad you agree. I haven’t told him precisely where I plan on placing him, yet. I just told him I had a job I needed him to do. He’ll be here in a few days, and I’ll fill him in.
“Now, let’s discuss the strategic situation,” I continued, changing the subject. “What points must we absolutely defend?”
That brought a gleam to Terleman’s eye. He excelled as a strategist, and saw it as a higher calling in warmagic than even the glory of combat. He had prepared a map of the province with just such a presentation in mind, and found it quickly.
“There are three likely approaches of any foe toward Vanador,” he began. “The easiest entry to the plateau is the main gap to the west, here,” Terleman said, pointing to the region on the map. “That’s where the river empties down the escarpment.”
“That’s where the switchbacks are,” I recalled, remembering the long, slow ascent up the cliffside. “That’s a rise of at least eighty or ninety feet.”
“And that’s the lowest point,” Terleman agreed. “The gap runs between these two ridges for about half a mile. Most of it is unclimbable, unless you’re determined and foolhardy. But if that switchback is well-fortified, then it will take an army of thousands to gain the plateau,” he predicted. “More, if I’m involved in the design.”
“Coincidently, that’s where Carmella placed your country estate and official seat: just a few miles south of it, where you can watch the place,” Mavone added.
“You want to put my family near a potential battlefield?” I asked, skeptically.
“It demonstrates how seriously you take our defense,” Mavone countered. “And it shows how confident you are in it. Besides, Carmella picked out a really pretty spot, too, on a small mountain with a delightful view of the vale below. You’ll like it.”
“For an enemy army to gain the plateau anyplace else they have to travel miles to the north – through Callierd, coincidently – and enter the plateau at the northeastern gap, or go far to the south and east, beyond Salik Tower. Either course of action would give us ample warning to shift our defenses. And if we have time to fortify them, it will be extremely difficult for anyone to force an army past them,” Terleman reasoned.
“The main gap is defensible,” Mavone agreed. “I rode out there just a few days ago to look it over. Carmella assures me we can fortify it and make it a strong point, given enough time, treasure and men.”
“She will have an abundance of all,” I agreed. “That’s the gateway to Vanador. It must not fail.”
“Beyond the gap in the vales, there are several places to the west where an enemy army must occupy, in order to cross the Wildwater,” Terleman continued. “These fords, here, here and here. This gap here. And at least one of these three vales. That should help limit the number of places we have to defend . . . or, at least whose defense will purchase us fair warning of an attack.”
“And the town’s defenses?” I asked. After only a few weeks here, I’d seen them from afar, but. had yet to inspect them myself.
“They are . . . under construction,” Mavone said, diplomatically. “But the design looks promising. The walls are mostly footings, at the moment, at the bottom of deep trenches. That much, at least, was managed by the Hesians before the frost set in last autumn. It is unlikely to be finished by summer. Especially if we are devoting our resources to fortifying the gap If an army comes up that switchback, there will be no simple wall to deter them from sacking the town.”
“Carmella is working as fast as she can,” Terleman defended. “She’s doing incredible work, under the circumstances. She’s refined combat engineering techniques to a whisker,” he said, admiringly. “But fortifying the gap is the higher priority, no matter how much solace the sight of a wall around the town would bring to the people. We need to buy her as much time as possible to finish. I’ve seen the final plans for the town’s defense. When she’s done, Vanador will be harder to take than Darkfaller.”
“How about the armory?” I asked, my mind calculating anew with every fresh piece of information. “How are we fixed for arms?”
“Abysmal, compared to our need,” Terleman reported, gloomily. “You can tour it yourself, if you like. It won’t take long. There are some weapons left over from the Emancipation, and some antiques donated by Anguin, confiscated from siege stores of rebel lords. Spears gleaned from various battles with the gurvani. Maybe enough to arm five hundred men, if you wanted to be charitable. But most of it is junk,” he concluded, distastefully. “Half of it hasn’t seen service in fifty years. The other half is serviceable, but . . . we need weapons, Min,” Terleman insisted. “Real weapons. Bows and axes are great, in a pinch, but they don’t win wars.”
“I have a plan for that,” I assured them. “The Kasari are famous for their leatherwork. And the hills around here have some of the best iron ore. We’ll make the arms and armor we need, instead of buying it piecemeal from Enultramar or Remere.”
“How?” Mavone demanded, skeptically. “We don’t have that kind of industry here, Min. There are perhaps three or four forges in town and no foundry. The Tudry smiths are just now setting up their shops. It will be a year before they have iron, two before they have steel.”
“I’m importing some specialists,” I assured him. “Master Cormoran relocated with them to Forgemont, when he evacuated Tudry.
Alon Dradrien. We rescued them from Olum Seheri, and they promised me service,” I reminded them. “I’m going to take them up on that for Vanador’s benefit.”
“The Iron Folk?” Terleman asked, intrigued. “I’ve heard stories of their prowess at metallurgy, but . . . Min, there are only a few,” he reasoned. “They can’t single-handedly make all the weapons we need.”
“They can provide a foundation to build a greater industry, here,” I countered. “They know things about metal that our people can only guess at. We’ll find a way to make that knowledge a lever to elevate our preparedness. With such good iron ore available here, there is no reason to ship it south and then purchase it anew at five times its value, when we have fuel and ore aplenty right here. All we lack is a little knowledge and some facilities.”
“I did see Cormoran the other day,” Mavone conceded, “and he did mention something about building a new foundry. I didn’t pay it much heed. How much iron can one man make?”
“We’re not dependent upon just one smith,” I reminded him. “We have a wealth of men hungry for work. Some of them will be happy to apprentice at a forge. And I hear there are Wood Dwarves here, now . . . Rumel’s folk. They have smiths among them, as well.”
“That’s ambitious, but I will defer to your boundless optimism,” Mavone said, cautiously. “I assume you will take a similar strategy to making bows and arrows?”
“I will fund a workshop where both can be practiced,” I decided. “The Kasari come here – they excel at the bowyer’s art. I’ve seen a Kasari hit a target at three hundred yards, consistently, with those monster bows. We can hire them and build up an arsenal. Wood we have aplenty, and feathers. We have wands that will split a beam into shafts of perfect straightness. Add in a little iron for arrow heads and we can begin to arm our folk in earnest.”
“That’s a start, but you realize that this is all a stopgap measure, don’t you?” Mavone pointed out, after we studied the maps in silence. “We can hire horsemen and make bows all we wish . . . but without a proper fortress anywhere nearby, we’re essentially screwed if Korbal decides to attack before we’re ready.”
Thaumaturge Page 9
