Man of Loss

“Winter… she’s a cold and merciless woman. No matter how many times she leaves she’s always certain to come back again. Sometimes longer sometimes shorter and its times like this that I pray for the latter.

“But at least she’s a looker ay boss”

“Very true Wilford, I can’t deny that, if it weren’t for the situation I might have even found time to enjoy her company. Alas though she’s put us in a bit of a pickle.”

“Speaking of I have a letter from commander Ross addressed to you squad leader”

“Oh, go on, pass it here”

…

“what’s it say then boss”

“it’s an invitation to dinner before the strategy meeting tonight, seems like the higher ups have thought up something better than waiting to freeze to death”

“Well, I’m definitely glad to hear that! but if it’s all right with you I’ll be returning to camp, hopefully I can find a nice fire to cozy up to.”

After the successes of the October offensive, we the 12th army managed to brake through the enemy line and over the river Adula. After this astonishing success we were ordered to capture the city of Auldberg. A Massive fortified city nestled between two portions of the Ula Mountain range. It is an impregnable barricade between the kingdom of Saltz outer dominions and its inner fertile lands. Its outer wall, a perfectly straight colossal structure broken up only by its sixteen protruding bastions and eight towers standing imposingly behind it. In contrast to the dark mountains looming over, it was instead white as marble, this vast unnatural structure was so unbelievable in its scale that one could hardly believe it to be the creation of mere men. Indeed, some of the more fantastical men at camp had even begun telling tales attributing it to ancient giants and tattered remains of long lost civilisations. It perplexed me how any half sane man could entertain such foolishness. fortunately, for most these fables were mere distractions from the biting winter night, yet there were still some who held it as truth claiming to have seen such fantastical structures in other far off lands. Nevertheless, giant tombs or not, it was our unfortunate task to have to take it. However just as we reached Auldberg the unexpected first snow of winter arrived just in time to stop our advance. for three months now we have been encamped on a humble hill some two odd miles away, staring down those walls as the piling snow slowly began to become one with its pristine white walls. But now, finally, after these months of waiting this letter means we have a plan to conquer these since unconquerable walls.

Commander Ross was leader of the heavy infantry an elite unit comprised of battle-hardened men with strong constitution to match. Five years ago, after I achieved exemplary feats in battle, I was invited to join the heavy infantry and a mere two years later I managed to climb my way up to squad leader. It was after my promotion that I became properly acquainted with Ross. He was a tall fellow with an eccentric disposition and remarkable build. Despite him been well into his more mature years he showed no signs of frailty. In fact, his more aged appearance only seemed to add to the imposing figure he portrayed. The face of this rugged warrior was just as distinct, sporting slick black hair above glimmering childlike eyes and adorned with a thick well groomed Mustache that curled at either side.

Approaching his tent, I could already hear his booming laughter, it would seem dinner had begun. Sweeping aside the tiger pelt door I was greeted by a most unexpected site. A half-naked officer with chickens on each arm, upon seeing me enter there as a pause, followed by a glance then even more laughter.

“Alfred my boy you’re here, my apologies a few of us started before you arrived, you know how it gets in this dull place, couldn’t stand waiting any longer. Come, sit, sit, there’s a good fellow, have some wine.”

“haven’t we got a meeting soon commander, is it wise drink beforehand”

“Oh, look what a good soldier you are, truly befitting your rank. Worry not my esteemed sir, you see there is a veeery good reason why we’re drinking.”

“And that is?

“Because tomorrow it’ll be war, and if we don’t make merry now then those who die tomorrow will regret it, and we wouldn’t want that, would we. Now then drink up and that’s an order”

War… so it’s happening, this is it, finally we will bring an end to this blasted stalemate. Commander Ross in one swift movement managed to grab both a chair and a bottle of wine. Sitting me down he poured me a cup so full that a drop more would burst the bulge that crested its rim.

“Commander so what’s it that we the heavy infantry have been tasked with”

“agh there really is no escaping your dedication is there. well, I suppose that’s what I like about you Alfred. Even if you don’t know how to enjoy a good drink and a laugh like the rest of us. But I’m afraid you will have to wait till later to hear the details.”

“Well… if you insist, commander.”

“You know though Alfred if you do well in this battle ill appeal for you to be promoted to captain. I know how much you love this country, but I know how much you love a good promotion even more.”

“Well commander I wouldn’t say …”

“It’s no insult its ambitious young’uns like you we need, and I’ll look out for you. you’ve got a bright future and a good head, unlike this drunken lot.”

“Thank you, commander, for putting your trust in me. I won’t disappoint.”

“I’m sure you won’t, well if you survive tomorrow that is hahahaha. Your doing good work boy keep at it.”

With that, commander Ross went to great some other late arrivals. The time before the meating passed in that same drunken manner for maybe another hour or two. Not been much of a drinker myself it was like watching a horribly disorganised play unfold before my eyes. I couldn’t help but look down on the other officers, after all if they acted like this on the eve of battle how could I not surpass them as I had the others that enlisted with me.

A messenger from headquarters had slinked his way between the drunken men all the way to the commanders ear. With a look of concern at the sights unfolding before him the messenger whispered the time to the commander and asked that he get his men in order as the meeting was soon to begin. Upon hearing this the commander grew a toothy grin, he gave a shield to the messenger, asking him to hold it tight and up right. Before the messenger could begin to question the reason the commander began striking it as loud as he could, wielding his Warhammer in both hands so as to make the improvised gong ring even louder. The poor messenger standing so proper moments before was now on the floor dazed and dishevelled.

“Right, You Nobel warriors of the Drachian empire. Clean yourselves up and move out. On the double now, chip chop.”

Leaning over the incapacitated messenger Ross began explaining.

“Honestly I have no idea how they got in such a state, it’s disgraceful, don’t you agree messenger, I should think they will need more drilling after this.”

…

“Not much of a talker is he Alfred”

“No sir although I think you may have had a hand in that”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, it was just a few taps nothing more, why I didn’t even hit him.”

“Shall we start making are way over, I don’t think command would like us to be drunk and late.”

“I suppose you’re right. come on men time to move, the cold will sober you up.”

Stepping out of the warm tent we were blasted by biting winds the kind that freezes right to the bone with a single gust. Folding up my wool collar did little to help but it was still better than nothing, even in this deathly cold us officers were expected to wear proper uniform so as to be an example to the ordinary soldier. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, but due to the early snow our winter coats and gambesons had yet to arrive.

Drawing near to headquarters the only semi-temporary building in camp, we were approached by one of the guards.

“You here for the strategy meeting.”

Ross responded asking “does it look like were here for an evening stroll instead.”

Unfazed the guard repeated “are you here for the strategy meeting”

“Yes, yes we are. May we enter now.”

“Of course, all officers of battalion commander and above are expected to sit within three row of the table and anyone bellow will have to stand wherever they can find room.”

the central command room was a large and spacious circular room, with a long table placed directly in the centre. Its surface was covered in a great many maps and scrolls as well as carved wooden pieces to denote each unit. Surrounding the table were grand chairs saved for each division commander, such as commander Ross. Behind these were rows of less impressive chairs saved for those of lesser ranks such as battalion commanders. Even further behind these was empty space set aside for those at the lower end of the command structure, this is where I would have to stand, being as a squad leader, the least important rank here.

“Well lad I’m afraid this is where we part ways, don’t be too dismayed about standing at the back, we all start somewhere.”

Truth be told I was happy to just be here. It was in this room that I belonged, and I knew I wouldn’t be in the back for long, I will continue to climb the ranks and eventually ill have a seat at that table too. I am sure of this, I believe it is my destiny to one day be a great command, it is just a matter of time, nothing can come between me and my fate.

A thin man with a crooked nose and sly face appeared from a far off doorway. General Heath the master strategist of the 12th army, an unassuming man that was the mastermind behind the fall of countless foes.

“It looks like we’re all here, let’s begin”