by P. S. Power
“This way. Grab a plate and some silver, and then take what you want, food wise. I know it isn’t the fine dining you’re used to, but it’s going to be a lot worse on the trail and probably past that once we make it to the front.” He was hinting that the man shouldn’t complain about the quality of the meal presented. That it was his job, as a leader, or a potential one, to make certain no one else suffered the annoyance of having him around.
A thing that Anders knew he needed to ensure for himself as well. After all it was a bother to take a young boy along on a vital mission. Even if not major, getting food and supplies to the front truly was that. Important. Enough that failing in their duty might well impact the entire outcome of the war they were in.
Erold simply nodded. Between the two of them, Anders and the pampered youngest Prince, the important one had always been the more sensible.
“This is more than enough, I’m certain. Let me see here. These all look like very fine selections.” He didn’t go stiff or let himself seem put out as he walked down the line. He did try to take mainly meat, bread and a bit of cheese. Two scoops of greens with one of bitters were slipped into place as well. Not by the Prince, either.
Anders got a sour expression for his trouble, but the things weren’t served to be tasty. They had medicinal value. Once they were on the road, they needed to be regular and as healthy as possible. They all required that basic state to move at a good pace each day.
He looked at the taller young man then. There were only a few inches difference between them, but he still had to look upward.
“Eat those. Part of your task each day will be identifying and harvesting greens, bitters and herbs as we go, if at all possible. Hunting as well, if we can get it done and still make good time. Then, you’re in as my cooking assistant for the trip out and possibly once we get there.” He shrugged then. “I don’t know what all that will entail yet, so ready yourself. I’ll teach you what to look for, as far as edibles go.” His face felt oddly hard.
Then, he half expected the other boy to hit him, if playfully. Possibly jesting about the tasks, instead of setting himself to do something that humble. It was, after all, a bit like suggesting he care for the animals in their care himself.
Holding his ceramic plate carefully, he turned, not on the smaller boy, who was suddenly being commanding of him, against all sense or balance, just to find where they were sitting.
“All right. I don’t have any skills that way at all. I’ll do my best, if that’s my place in this. A bit of a shame, I just laid all my armor out. I have a fine mail and some tough leather gloves I was planning to bring.” He chuckled at the idea that they might not be needed for a cook’s assistant.
“Bring those, as well, then. You’ll need to keep them on most of the time. It won’t be comfortable, but this is a real war we’re riding into.” Then Anders moved back toward the correct table. “I’m glad you’re willing to try. I half expected crying and carrying on about how you needed to be in command of the whole thing.”
The words were spoken as they closed with the table, which was actually three of the things pressed together, to show that they were all there in a unified group. Across the room, several others he knew sat and watched then, pretending they weren’t. It wasn’t as if anything said in that hall wouldn’t be listened to and noted by many of them. Even his own mother glanced over, hearing him, and carefully not making eye contact with her own son.
Then, she could just find him later and ask about what was said.
Lady Martya, who sat near her, smiled and waved in his direction, however. He did that back, since they were known to one another. It would be rude not to. It meant that Erold nudged him a little as they settled, and elbow catching his ribs on purpose.
“Now that’s different, isn’t it? Are you entertaining Lady Martya? Hmm?” Several of the others looked at him sharply then, each with a different expression on their faces. It was interesting to see who was doing what that way.
Several of the knights seemed to find the very question amusing. Sir Daniel looked annoyed, which could be due to feeling ill over the scent of food in the room, and Sir Humphrey tightened his lips, disapproving of the whole thing being brought up, when they should have been working.
Depak Sona went blank, as if it might be true, but it wasn’t his place to tell anyone else what to do with their lives and relationships.
Master Belford was directly next to Baron Kilroy, directly across from himself and the Prince, having joined them, even if it hadn’t been to Ander’s plan for the day. Not that it was inappropriate. After all, Master Belford tutored both himself and Erold. It was well within his rights in that capacity to set tasks for them while they were gone. Even to insist on going himself. The Baron being there didn’t make any sense at all. Then, Farad had to figure he was, most likely, the court assassin.
That didn’t fit with the task at hand, if true.
He simply nudged the Prince, a thing close enough to being a blow that the boy exhaled a bit at the contact. He grinned though, getting it as a rebuke.
“Hardly that. Believe it or not, most of the women around here don’t have time for little boys in their lives. Those that do have exclusively sought me out for magical aid. Lady Martya just found out that I was set to lessons in courtly flirtation, so seeks to help me learn them. I can’t prove it, but I’m nearly certain that either my mother or Master Belford put her up to it, to test me.”
Interestingly, Baron Kilroy covered his mouth, hiding a smile. Then the man lied, backing his words up, instantly.
“She told me it was her own idea. You have the right of it however, it’s not ill intentioned, merely her own attempt to arm you against the life of the castle proper. Not all lessons are best learned from a book. At any rate, you were just informing the Prince of your travel plans?”
It might not have been true about Lady Martya, but Anders smiled then, gently. The deflection into the direction of work was welcome. Even if they were eating as they did it.
“Right. We’re handling the wagon and going to be cooking. That’s for us, I think. The knights and guards going? That should be twelve in all?” He looked at Sir Humphrey, since he was in charge of that portion of things.
There was a cough from the reddish haired man then.
“Ten knights, but we’re a man down on that...” He glanced around, then shrugged. “I... The King has ordered Prince Robarts to travel with us. He’s a knight, but has never been on a guard detail. He’s a veteran fighter, from the last war, some fourteen years ago. A Prince, so I don’t know what we can count on him for, that way, on the road.”
Anders tightened his face, then nodded.
“You can count on him to do his duty, like everyone else.” He sucked in air then and smiled, feeling a bit ill suddenly. “I’ll go and speak to him on the topic, so he understands the lay of it. Are we traveling with squires and such?”
That got Sir Humphrey to sit straighter.
“I hadn’t thought we would. Still, we’re heading toward the front and while the duty at hand is important, it’s a fairly low risk situation. We can do that. I think it would add five to the work? On the good side, we can put them toward cooking for us and making the camp up, each night.” There was a look at the other men there, all of whom seemed unimpressed with the whole thing, as if it was normal to ride in the direction of battle.
They would need food and supplies for more than that then, for... That was a thing he didn’t really know.
“Do we have an estimated travel time? I moved that way with the foot a few months back, then returned with wounded, but that isn’t a pack train or caravan. The stories all speak of those being a good bit slower, don’t they?”
Sir Daniel, still seeming white and a bit weak, cleared his throat.
“It will be nearly three weeks, going this way. Ten to fifteen miles a day, instead of fifteen to twenty that the Army requires of its men on the march. That’s provided the weather holds, of course
and that the roads haven’t been ruined for wagon passage by all the military traffic on them. There’s been some rain, given the season, which can make that difficult. Not too bad for horse, if the road isn’t gone to mud. Wagons needs smooth, flat roads, or they’ll keep breaking on us.”
Anders nodded then.
“So even more food will be needed. I have a wagon, but no oxen to pull it yet. Sir Daniel, can you drive a wagon?”
Those words got a sour look.
“Aye. I can. We all can...” He seemed to feel like Anders was about to order him to ride the whole time.
“Good, you can teach me how to do it. If you will. It shouldn’t take me weeks to learn how, or anything. I hope. I’ll try to have some spells ready, to repair carts and wagons. Other things as well.” He winced then, since that could be energy intensive. Depak Sona simply nodded at the words.
“That is a good idea, when going toward danger. Also working with damaged weapons and armor. You have those skills already?”
Anders had to shake his head, grinning.
“Not even close. I’ll be attempting to work in mail after the meal and haven’t thought past that, to be honest. Working in plate or other metal fixtures. I will be doing so, however, as you suggested, Master Depak. Healing and treating wounds as well. I overstepped my abilities in what I’ve done lately, I fear. I’m blaming being young and foolish for that one. I need to make a list of what to see to first.”
One of the other knights, a man he recognized as Sir Reginald, who was distinctive, having a long scar across his face, which was silver and bisected his nose, and eye, miraculously having left the brown thing under it intact, with a nice black beard, waved toward him then. Just to gain his attention.
“In battle the important thing is generally weapons. Between battles, really. If you can repair chipped edges, broken blades and damaged spears, that would be the best use of your time. Armor is a thing to worry about after the battle. Bows too, I don’t doubt. You’re also a fletcher and bowyer? You could do full time work on just that, once battles start. Add the rest of this and you’ll never sleep, even using magic for it.”
That got a laugh, from most of the people there.
Anders just grimaced.
“I know. The big limitation is my own lack of training and knowledge there, as well as personal energy. I refuse to use certain other techniques, which will limit what I can do. I might be able to scout the road head for dangers, as we ride, though. That doesn’t take as much power and I need the practice.” He probably couldn’t do that and drive a wagon, of course. Not if he wanted to stay on the road.
He wasn’t able to use the wizard’s arts with his eyes open very well yet.
Sir Humphrey, piece of crusty bread in hand, nodded.
“So, cooking, driving a wagon and magical scouting will be your part, Master Brolly. Some hunting as well? That might be hard to do, given the noise of a wagon caravan.”
Which was simply the truth. Still, he’d done it before, and the army wasn’t silent as they marched.
“If possible, to supplement the food, as we can. We’ll have Prince Erold on that, acting as guard, instead of doing magic, if it’s needed.” He sounded oddly authoritarian then, as if anyone there should listen to him.
It was a thing that he hadn’t thought about for a long time, but he’d been more or less the oldest of the historians for nearly three decades. People had deferred to him, due to that and his presumed wisdom. Now he looked like and was, a young boy, still acting the same way, once it came time to plan.
Sir Humphrey simply nodded at the words, either taking them as meant or not caring, as long as the idea behind them was sound enough.
“Good. Don’t over step on the magic. Caravanners are a hardy lot, compared to most peasants and low merchants, but there’s no need to push them that way.”
Instead of glaring, to back up his words, the large, rather muscular man looked down the table.
“Sir Daniel, you’ll be working with Brolly and Prince Erold for the first days, to make certain they can drive the wagon well. Then, if you can, we need you to ride guard. At that point, guarding Master Brolly will be your duty, along with the others, Prince Erold. He has to do part of the magic in a trance, so you’ll collect the information and deliver it to me, directly, at need.” He ate for a while longer, then went on.
Looking at Depak Sona.
“Do you see anything magically related that I’m missing, Master Depak?”
The man shook his head, then spoke words that were slightly against that move.
“Not truly. Only that, while Anders must hide his efforts, as you said, he also needs to practice them, daily. Setting duties that way is fair. Managing one’s energy is not the same as holding it all in reserve, constantly. There is a balancing that needs to be done, for one to attain mastery. So do not fear asking him to do such repairs or cleaning as needed. It will be up to him not to strive past what is needed.”
The man very carefully didn’t look over at Anders as he said the words.
Which made sense. The knight simply nodded in return.
“Understood. Good, so we have full magical back up. Now, we need to go over the duty roster. That won’t be hard, since once we hit the road, we’re all going to be on task constantly. We need a night watch on the camp though.”
It was interesting, but given the time of year, since they had nearly eleven hours of night, they were working that, guarding everything, in three separate watches. Everyone going with them would be on one of them, including Anders and both princes. All the squires as well.
He didn’t know who most of the people were, but he memorized who was going to be on which watch. He was on the first, with Erold being on the last. The middle guard was the worst one, they were all assured, since the men doing that one had to sleep fast at the front, get up for four hours, then try to rapidly get more rest for the same amount of time before morning came. The last and first watches, just got to rest, before and after their duty.
No one groaned at hearing they had the worst part of it, however. Then, knights wouldn’t. They had literal oaths to keep that prevented them from failing in their duty, whatever that was in the moment.
They didn’t stop there, going over the entire planned route, which required a map being pulled out. Anders memorized it, or rather, had it in his head already and simply traced out the path being taken. They were on side roads in a few places, instead of the main one, due to weather conditions possibly being a factor. It was the kind of thing that he could check on, he thought. Not that he volunteered that information. He’d been in all of the needed areas before, but he wasn’t so certain he had the needed skills to cover things that far away, to the level they’d need done.
Still, doing the work and drawing out a map of potential hazards should be possible, if he was careful and managed his time as was proper to the task. As long as he could recall what he saw, while in a deep trance. That, the failure of his memory in that state, bothered him for a moment. Then he stood, since everyone else was doing that, Sir Humphrey suggesting they probably had what they needed, for a while.
He was walking out of the room, with Prince Erold right beside him, when he was tapped on the shoulder. Anders turned, a bit shocked, since that almost never happened to him. People just started speaking, instead of tapping him like had happened.
It wasn’t hard or anything, and the face, when he turned, had a polite enough smile on it. The man was a true grey beard, with a large bald spot on the top of his head, a thin body and while taller than Anders, he didn’t tower over him, or the Prince. He was identifiable, however, being the Court Alchemist, Tag Seness. A man that Anders had spoken to, many times, in his duties of passing messages. The man had even trusted him to make a few deliveries, from time to time.
Which got him to smile at the older fellow.
“Master Seness. Do you need something delivered?”
Prince Erold stiffened then, as if that kind of duty
was beneath his friend. Even now, when he had other things to see to, it wasn’t. After all, an alchemist might have to see to things that prevented him from running things to all and sundry. Chemicals could explode if left too long, he thought. Not that he had great knowledge of that particular art. Some works in his head about the topic, but those were over a millennia out of date.
The man smiled at him, and then nodded.
“Indeed, Anders. Though it’s in the direction you’re going, already, so might not be too great of a burden, I hope? I’d heard there might be some room left in your wagon? These are tinctures and powders, mainly needed to prevent infection for the troops. To prevent foot rot and the loosening illness. About three fairly large barrels worth?” He held his hands up to show what he meant.
He had to think about things, what space was going to be left, but so far no one had really confirmed what they were sending, except for Baron Kilroy. Those were boxes of wine, but barrels could be packed toward the back, near the passenger’s side of the front bench. Then smaller things packed around them.
A lot of what was spoken of would be food and of course, blankets, for men at the front. Letters from home and such not, from the town, no doubt. He wasn’t planning to check them all, but would need a sack, or better three, for the things to be placed in. Some few extra heavy sacks to carry things he collected, as well.
“I think I can make that fit. We’ll start packing the day before we head out. That’s in four days, for loading. Is that acceptable for you? I don’t know where we’ll be staging that, as of yet.” The barrels would probably be heavy, after all. An old man, or a young boy, might not be strong enough to carry them a mile, if it was required.
“I can use magic to float them to the needed location, if it comes to that. Though if I can get close enough to the castle that might make things simpler for a lot of people.”
