red as a rose.
“Well, bear with me,” he said, hand shaking slightly. “Ninety years ago, we launched a similar campaign under King Micas. We had initial success at this same spot, and we even got as far as Karavunia City itself, but we had to turn back. The reason was because the insurgents attacked our supply lines and starved our army during the siege. We lost despite our num bers.”
Meier felt a bead of sweat running down his forehead. Of course, they knew about King Micas and his campaign! “But there’s more that I saw today on the battlefield that you gentlemen obviously saw as well,” he continued. “Namely … they had no real generals. The common men fought without overseeing leaders. I saw one man who seemed to lead them, but he did so from the front line. He fought as one of the commoners, and he was not on horseback. This leads me to believe that he felt his life was no more important than any one of his men! Any one of them could have been the next general had he fallen. Men like that are not going to give up. They will raid us in the night, taking a few of us at a time if need be, until we are forced to turn back from our losses. That is why I think we should abandon this campaign altogether, gentl emen.”
There it was. He had said it. It was as if he had dropped a sack of knives on the table. The generals all went into a series of scoffs and head shakes. Abandon the campaign after a victory? Unthinkable. How could they just give up when victory was in their grasp? Surely the young prince was missing the whole point of the incursion. Things became heated. Then the king spoke from his stret cher.
“We will not abandon our hard-won efforts, Meier. Will we take losses? Of course. They will be worth it. You have spoken truly, son. Yes, they will resist at every turn, as they have always done. Even if we had four times as many men, they would not back down. Despite this, we will still win. We will drive hard for their capital, and ever vigilant, we will defend and attack in turn. We will not turn back!” King Wold suddenly grunted in pain. He had found himself trying to sit up during his speech, and the pain reminded him to lie back down. His voice had been firm and unyielding. Nothing more needed to be said on the matter. The decision had been made. The only thing left to discuss was the continued invasion. Despondent and exasperated, Meier watched on as the generals and his brothers continued to plot the advance. It was late in the night before they were finished. They would take the fort at Harsov in the morning, just as they had planned to from the beginning, then they would fortify there and make their way to the capital. Because of Meier’s advice, they would be sure to carefully scout for ambushes and raids. They agreed with him on that much. Suddenly, there was a commotion in the camp. Just as they were closing the meeting, a rider appeared bearing urgent news.
“My lords!” he said, bowing deeply. “Terrible news from the capital! We have been attacked from the west! The Gunars march for the capital even as we speak. Scouts predict they will be there in three days. The queen calls for aid, my lords!” The messenger handed the letter from the queen to Wold. He unfurled it and inspected the seal and the writing. It was all true. The tent exploded with raised voices. The Gunars had waited for their opportunity to expand their own borders and used the Karavunian campaign to mount their own incursion. Surely it was the work of spies. The irony was not lost on them. While they had been taking another country, their other neighbors were taking theirs. The plans were about to change. Everyone was in a fl urry.
“Silence!” said the king above everyone else. “Meier is right, even if it is for the wrong reason. We must abandon this campaign immediately and look to our own borders. We march before the sun rises tomorrow. Send word to the captains! Make sure they tell the men everything. They
“Well, bear with me,” he said, hand shaking slightly. “Ninety years ago, we launched a similar campaign under King Micas. We had initial success at this same spot, and we even got as far as Karavunia City itself, but we had to turn back. The reason was because the insurgents attacked our supply lines and starved our army during the siege. We lost despite our num bers.”
Meier felt a bead of sweat running down his forehead. Of course, they knew about King Micas and his campaign! “But there’s more that I saw today on the battlefield that you gentlemen obviously saw as well,” he continued. “Namely … they had no real generals. The common men fought without overseeing leaders. I saw one man who seemed to lead them, but he did so from the front line. He fought as one of the commoners, and he was not on horseback. This leads me to believe that he felt his life was no more important than any one of his men! Any one of them could have been the next general had he fallen. Men like that are not going to give up. They will raid us in the night, taking a few of us at a time if need be, until we are forced to turn back from our losses. That is why I think we should abandon this campaign altogether, gentl emen.”
There it was. He had said it. It was as if he had dropped a sack of knives on the table. The generals all went into a series of scoffs and head shakes. Abandon the campaign after a victory? Unthinkable. How could they just give up when victory was in their grasp? Surely the young prince was missing the whole point of the incursion. Things became heated. Then the king spoke from his stret cher.
“We will not abandon our hard-won efforts, Meier. Will we take losses? Of course. They will be worth it. You have spoken truly, son. Yes, they will resist at every turn, as they have always done. Even if we had four times as many men, they would not back down. Despite this, we will still win. We will drive hard for their capital, and ever vigilant, we will defend and attack in turn. We will not turn back!” King Wold suddenly grunted in pain. He had found himself trying to sit up during his speech, and the pain reminded him to lie back down. His voice had been firm and unyielding. Nothing more needed to be said on the matter. The decision had been made. The only thing left to discuss was the continued invasion. Despondent and exasperated, Meier watched on as the generals and his brothers continued to plot the advance. It was late in the night before they were finished. They would take the fort at Harsov in the morning, just as they had planned to from the beginning, then they would fortify there and make their way to the capital. Because of Meier’s advice, they would be sure to carefully scout for ambushes and raids. They agreed with him on that much. Suddenly, there was a commotion in the camp. Just as they were closing the meeting, a rider appeared bearing urgent news.
“My lords!” he said, bowing deeply. “Terrible news from the capital! We have been attacked from the west! The Gunars march for the capital even as we speak. Scouts predict they will be there in three days. The queen calls for aid, my lords!” The messenger handed the letter from the queen to Wold. He unfurled it and inspected the seal and the writing. It was all true. The tent exploded with raised voices. The Gunars had waited for their opportunity to expand their own borders and used the Karavunian campaign to mount their own incursion. Surely it was the work of spies. The irony was not lost on them. While they had been taking another country, their other neighbors were taking theirs. The plans were about to change. Everyone was in a fl urry.
“Silence!” said the king above everyone else. “Meier is right, even if it is for the wrong reason. We must abandon this campaign immediately and look to our own borders. We march before the sun rises tomorrow. Send word to the captains! Make sure they tell the men everything. They
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