A DRINK BEFORE BATTLE (MxM)

The woods opened out into gently sloping land that had long ago been cleared for settlement, and the Third Cavalry soon found themselves passing by small farming and fishing villages. In this idyllic, pastoral setting, the din of horse hooves and marching boots on the road seemed menacing even to the ones making it. It was a bit heartwarming to see children stop their play to wave and cheer at the soldiers as they passed by, but Sevei desperately hoped that all these people were ready to clear out of here quickly if it became necessary.

The road they traveled led straight to the river port. The Brinnish troops had taken the area south of the port with the Valeskans taking the north end. As the air began to take on the scent of the river, and the sounds of ship horns could be heard in the far distance, they came upon a dirt track veering off the road to the north. It would have been beaten into the ground by General Urskatha’s unit, the Valeskan Fourth Martial Line, over the past week.

A mile along the dirt track, the camp came into view. From their uphill position, they had a wide view of the valley, the low-hanging sun dazzling across the water of the river and setting the veritable town of white tents aglow. They were met by a welcoming party from the Fourth Martial Line along with their own head engineer’s deputy, who rode next to Sevei to report on the camp’s progress as they continued along. From the sound of it, there was shelter for all tonight, cramped though it may be.

Leaving their horses in a fenced pasture and the men to their troop captains to settle in, Sevei and Yanek followed the Fourth Martial envoy into camp. At the point where the encampments of the two units met, the officer’s tents of both had been arranged in a circle around a wide clearing with a great firepit in its center, creating a courtyard for command operations. The two generals’ tents were easily spotted, each being the size of a small cottage and emblazoned with the insignia of their units – a rampant horse with three stars overhead for the Third Cavalry; a blazing sun beneath four stars for the Fourth Martial Line.

“Those will be your tents over on that side,” an officer of the Fourth Martial Line said, pointing them out across the yard, “but General Urskatha would like to meet with you right away. There’s been news.”

Sevei and Yanek exchanged wry glances, barely concealing their shared humor as they recalled earlier conversations. Time to meet the whelp, Yanek’s wagging eyebrows said.

“General Sevei has arrived!” the officer called as they approached the tent’s entryway.

“Send him in!” a voice answered from within – a woman’s voice. Sevei and Yanek shot each other questioning glances as the officer opened the tent flap and motioned them inside.

The interior of the tent was unexpected. Sevei had seen the tents of other generals of noble lineage; most of them tried to take an entire house out into the field with them, unable to leave off the comforts of their posh estates. This tent was sparsely furnished – a single-width bed, a desk, a table with a few chairs, a few cabinets, a few oil lamps hanging about, but no frivolous decoration, and everything in sight appeared to be standard military issue. There was a raised wooden floor, but no carpets – even Sevei had a few carpets. This tent felt empty, its size unnecessary.

The woman who’s voice they’d heard stood to one side of the desk. She wore the same uniform as Sevei and Yanek – a midnight blue tunic and trousers with a purple cloak and baldric, her insignia marking her as a Sergeant. Yanek seemed unable to peel his gaze from her. She was quite lovely, with dark hair bound into a thick braid and large, slightly upturned eyes holding a curious and friendly expression.

Sevei nudged Yanek with an elbow to direct his attention to the man sitting behind the desk -presumably General Urskatha.

The man’s head was bent low over the desk as he furiously scribbled at a document there. The first noticeable thing about him was his hair, as only the top of his head was currently visible – so pale a blonde that it was almost white, cut to shoulder-length with the top tied back, the sides hanging down around his face. The second thing Sevei noticed was that he did not wear the officer’s uniform. He was dressed head to toe in all black clothing – as was favored by Alchemists – with a purple baldric across one shoulder like the common soldiers wore.

He seemed to ignore the new arrivals to his tent, continuing his writing for several minutes, while the mood became increasingly awkward. Already playing the arrogant prick, I see, Sevei thought, eyeing Yanek with a nod. The woman beside the General finally cleared her throat to prompt him.

“General Urskatha,” she said mildly.

Urskatha stopped writing and sighed heavily. Then he finally looked up – and froze.

Sevei’s mouth dropped open as for the second time in two days, he was stunned senseless by emerald green eyes.

“You...” he whispered. His heart was speeding up, and the tent seemed to get very warm suddenly.

“Please meet General Sevei of the Third Cavalry,” the woman said.

“I believe we’ve met,” Sevei said with a humorless smile and a touch of sarcasm in his voice.

A barely perceptible flash passed through Urskatha’s eyes before his face closed up into a stony expression.

“I believe you’re mistaken,” he answered frostily.

The woman looked from Sevei to Urskatha, and her eyes widened, her lips opening silently. It was Yanek’s turn to elbow Sevei out of his daze.

“Oh,” Sevei fumbled. “My Second, First Constable Yanek,” Sevei introduced him.

“Very pleased to meet you, General Urskatha,” Yanek said, giving a salute and a short bow of his head. “And... you as well...?” he said to the woman.

“My First Sergeant...” Urskatha told him, his voice trailing away into silence.

“Meira Kahan,” the woman supplied, returning the salute.

Sevei’s eyebrows almost flew off of his forehead. Urskatha looked down at the desk. His Sergeant’s gaze shot like an arrow in his direction, and she tilted her head to the side, pursing her lips. Urskatha glanced up at her briefly, the barest bit of guilt on his face.

Sevei watched the two of them with growing suspicion. They seemed to have some kind of unspoken communication going on. Was this some kind of weird Alchemist thing? He decided he didn’t really want to know. His mind was a numb mess of conflict right now. He was tired, hungry, well aware that he smelled like his horse, and he’d mostly like to get away from these two weirdos at the earliest opportunity to sort himself out.

“I was told there was news?” he asked. And hurry it along, he thought.

Urskatha stared at him blankly for a moment, then something seemed to snap in his thoughts.

“Yes,” he said, his voice clipped and hurried. “There’s been confirmation that Loranar is mobilizing in this direction. Whether that’s an active intention to invade or just a response to our presence here isn’t certain, but the timeline may move up. Now that you’re...” He paused and drew a deep breath, swallowing hard. “Now that you’re here, we’ll meet with the Brinnish Generals tomorrow at the port to discuss strategy.”

“Sounds-”

There came a rush of feet outside the tent and the flap was suddenly thrown back. The same officer who had led Sevei and Yanek in ducked his head inside, breathing heavily with a flushed face.

“General, there’s trouble with some men,” he panted. “You’d better come have a look.”

Urskatha stood quickly, and Sergeant Kahan walked briskly toward them, extending an arm toward the entry.

“I’m very sorry to rush you out,” she said to Yanek. “Please feel free to ask our officers for any assistance you may need settling into camp.”

“Thank you, we will, My Lady,” Yanek replied.

“Sergeant.” She spoke firmly, but gave him a tiny smile.

“Yes, sorry, Sergeant Kahan,” he apologized as he ducked around the tent flap, the Sergeant following just behind.

Sevei and Urskatha reached the entrance at the same time. As Urskatha brushed past him to move ahead, Sevei caught his elbow. Urskatha stopped short, giving him a sideways glare, his jaw clenching.

“Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” Sevei muttered, his voice kept low.

“No.” Urskatha tried to disengage, but Sevei pulled him back.

“General Urskatha,” he said mildly, drawing his words out as he searched for the right sentiment, “the pleasure of meeting you will be... hard to forget.”

Urskatha turned his head sharply and stared him down, those viridescent eyes boring into him with a cold intensity.

“It’s best that you do,” he snapped before jerking his arm out of Sevei’s grasp and marching after the others.