A DRINK BEFORE BATTLE (MxM)

The setup of camp was complete, and all the troops had arrived and settled in. It was time to get everyone on a daily training schedule. Readiness was imperative, and time might be short.

In an arming tent on the training grounds, Yanek buckled Sevei into one of the new maille tunics. It was made of special materials that could block the worst effects of the ethereal energy those Alchemists produced. They had purchased enough for all of the vanguard soldiers as well as all officers, and would be running drills in them today to get used to them. Sevei shrugged his shoulders to settle the maille around his frame.

“It’s heavier than the regular maille,” he noted.

“A bit,” Yanek agreed, “but none of them are ninety-pound weaklings, and if they are, they won’t be for long in one of these.”

“General Sevei?” called a light voice at the tent door. The flap was pushed aside and Nal entered, carrying an armful of scrolls.

“Speaking of ninety-pound weaklings!” Yanek laughed, handing Sevei his sword belt. “What is this kid still doing here?”

Nal gave him a comic pout.

“Sergeant Kahan said she’d take me somewhere, but honestly, I think they like having me around,” Nal said with the bravado of a little con-artist. “I’m very useful.”

“What do you have for me?” Sevei asked, nodding at the scrolls Nal carried. The boy pulled one out of the bundle and handed it over.

“Training schedules,” Nal answered, trying to make his tone as official-sounding as possible. “General Urskatha said to send your archers over with his today.”

“I thought Sergeant Kahan was coordinating with me?” Sevei queried. “Where is she?”

Nal suddenly got a bit shifty, giving Sevei a sympathetic but avoidant glance.

“I think he doesn’t want her to talk to you,” he confessed, “probably because of what everyone’s been saying..”

“And what has everyone been saying?” Sevei asked darkly.

“That General Urskatha doesn’t like you because you’re after his woman.”

“Did I tell you!?” Yanek exclaimed as Sevei just burst out in laughter.

“Boy, nothing in what you just said is true,” Sevei informed him. “And don’t go around repeating gossip. It’s a bad habit.”

“I wasn’t!” Nal insisted. “I was just telling you what I heard! Do you really like Sergeant Kahan? They said you were dreaming about her.”

Yanek put a hand over his brow, pretending to hold his head in disapproval, but really hiding an uncontrollable grin.

“It’s tragic, really, Nal,” he said into his palm. “Don’t rub salt into his wounds.”

Sevei picked up his sheathed sword and brandished it toward them both to chase them outside before buckling it onto his belt.

“Get on with your errands, and stop listening to all these degenerates. Especially this one-” Sevei kicked Yanek’s foot as he passed. “He’s the worst of the lot.”

Outside the arming tent, they went their separate ways, Nal off to deliver the schedules to other officers while Sevei and Yanek walked over to the lists. On the training field, a combined force of front-line soldiers from both units were drilling combat moves under their troop captains. General Urskatha immediately caught Sevei’s eye, his black-clad figure standing out sharply against the green of the field and the bright blue sky. He and Sergeant Kahan stood behind the boundary fence, observing the training. Sevei led Yanek some distance away from them, and they likewise watched the troops at their drills for a moment.

“No one seems to be having trouble with the maille,” Sevei noted.

“Good thing,” Yanek remarked. “I was worried it might slow them down today and embarrass them in front of the Martial Line. They’re doing us proud.”

“Come on,” Sevei said in a commanding tone. He jumped the low fence, then turned to walk backwards into the open field, beckoning to Yanek, who followed suit. Sevei drew his sword and gave it a few swings, testing the weight of the maille tunic on his shoulder. “You and I have a score to settle,” he told Yanek.

“Oh, do we?” Yanek replied in feigned innocence. “Which one are we settling today?”

“Encouraging that boy to gossip,” Sevei answered, his voice dripping with disapproval. “He’s not mine to punish, but you are.”

He whirled behind Yanek and smacked him across the backside with the flat of his sword, the steel ringing out against the maille tunic. Yanek yowled.

“So, that’s how it is, huh?” he laughed. His own blade swung out as he turned to counter, and their swords clashed between them.

They exchanged a few moves. Usually, they were each too familiar with the other’s style for either of them to get a real upper hand, but the new maille was throwing Yanek off-balance, and in the end his ass met the ground with an ignominious thump. Cheers erupted from the fence nearby, where a few officers had come over to watch their sparring.

“Learned your lesson yet?” Sevei laughed.

“Yes, Sir!” Yanek conceded breathlessly. He leaned back on his hands, in no hurry to get up again. “But let me get used to this maille, and then I want a rematch.”

“Go run a few laps around the field in it,” Sevei suggested.

“Now, that would be a punishment. Would you really be so cruel?”

The officers at the fence all laughed among themselves, and Yanek shot them a pained look of betrayal. Then he leaned a bit to peer around Sevei to where General Urskatha and Sergeant Kahan stood. Urskatha kept his sights on the drilling troops, but Yanek could swear he’d taken a few furtive glances this way. Something else entirely had captured Kahan’s attention.

Further down the field, another troop ran their drills apart from the others. They were all dressed in scarlet from head to toe with even their faces covered, only the opening across their eyes and the purple baldric of the Valeskan army providing contrast to their flowing, blood red garments. Moving in precise formation, their wide-legged trousers twirled and their sabres flashed in the sun in perfect unison. These were the Sekkha, a band of all female warriors from a nomadic tribe of Eastern Valesk, who had joined up under Sevei’s banner.

Sergeant Kahan leaned on the fence, her gaze fixed on them with a longing wistfulness playing on her features. Yanek watched her for a moment, then followed her gaze to watch the Sekkha in their maneuvers. They were mesmerizing.

“Looking for a wife?” Sevei laughed.

“Are you kidding?” Yanek answered. “That would be more like looking for death.”

“Well, when you’re ready to die, let me know.” Sevei extended a hand to haul Yanek to his feet. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“Just let me get accustomed to this maille first so I can last a minute or two before they thrash me,” Yanek laughed. “Hey, should we ask the weirdos to come do their weirdo thing?” He beat his fists on his chest, jingling the maille covering. “Let us practice dodging fireballs?”

Sevei glanced over his shoulder at Urskatha, who very studiously ignored them.

“Mm. Maybe another day,” Sevei said, all the previous humor draining away.

“Don’t want to ask?” Yanek laughed again. “I’ll do it. Hey! General Urskatha!” he called out. Urskatha turned as Yanek stepped around Sevei towards the fence. “Would you come over and help us out with something?”

As if he hadn’t heard, Urskatha turned an impassive face back to the training troops out on the field.

Rude.

Kahan’s attention was drawn away from the Sekkha. She gave Yanek a silently imploring frown, and a barely perceptible shake of her head.