going to ride out to each one and tell them.” Would the prince please get to the point , they seemed to say. Meier sighed. “I’m going to ask them to fight!” he said emphatic ally.
“But, my lord, we already asked for volunteers from that area,” said the eldest infantry general. Meier sighed again. Were they really so old and still so n aive?
“This is different. One man volunteers for anything. Another volunteers only when he’s in danger. I’m looking for the second type. Now I’d better get going!” he said finally and rode off without d elay.
Meier rode Callista as hard as he dared. She seemed to be up to it. He had never seen her run so fast. Perhaps she understood the urgency. Horses, it seemed, were really smarter than people gave them credit for. He was quickly to the first village, just after sunrise. The residents were slowly waking up. This seemed to be a farming village, with a small marketplace in the center of town. Riding to the middle of the market area, he started his announce ment.
“Attention everyone! I am Prince Meier of Valahia, and I come to you for help!” He quickly had their attention. Slowly, a mob started to grow around him. “We are invaded! The Gunars march for the capital at Targov. They intend to claim all Valahia as their own! We need every strong arm you can spare to prevent this tragedy. Please! Will you not help?”
He pleaded with them, carrying on in the same way as more people gathered around. Already several dozen men had cheered at him in consent, grabbing spears and axes from their homes. These men were mostly from the older generation. They were working men, men that would not have left their work to volunteer for an invasion. This was different, and Meier made them see it. Those among them who had been soldiers took up their old armaments and pledged themselves to the cause. When all was done, Meier had around two hundred and fifty volunteers. It was more than he had hoped for. What Meier did not know was why he had done so well. These men had pledged to fight for more than Valahia. They had pledged to fight for him. He had won them over. A different man could not have done the same.
That whole day, Meier rode hard across the land to each farming and market village, always delivering the same heartfelt speech; and every time, he ended up with more than he had hoped for. One village even pledged an amazing five hundred men. These men needed no general. It was something Meier had learned from the Karavunians. These men fought for freedom. They fought for the right to have their own country. Meier was beginning to understand what that meant. And he was only eighteen. At this time the week before, his biggest worry was what to have for dinner. Meier had grown up in record time. But he wasn’t done yet. All told, he had recruited an extra three thousand men to march on Targov. He told them to converge just east of the city, and there they would meet the main f orce.
When Meier reached the infantry march again, he told them of the extra recruits and their approximate numbers. The old men nearly fell out of their sad dles.
“How did you manage it?” they asked, heads still spinning from the success of his plan.
“I just talked to them,” Meier explained laconically. They were amazed. This prince had become an unexpected wonder. Just a few days ago, he had been little more than a royal accessory. What had happened to make him into the man they saw before them? Perhaps, they came to believe, it was just that he had never been te sted.
Meanwhile at the castle, Assur and Ian had their hands full organizing the defense. The scouts brought more bad news. The Gunar force numbered around thirty thousand! Even with all the forces en route, the Valahians had only eighteen thousand or so. It looked as though they were in for a long siege. The best defense against such numbers was to outlast them. Even then, the outcome looked grim. Ian was the first to put forward a
“But, my lord, we already asked for volunteers from that area,” said the eldest infantry general. Meier sighed again. Were they really so old and still so n aive?
“This is different. One man volunteers for anything. Another volunteers only when he’s in danger. I’m looking for the second type. Now I’d better get going!” he said finally and rode off without d elay.
Meier rode Callista as hard as he dared. She seemed to be up to it. He had never seen her run so fast. Perhaps she understood the urgency. Horses, it seemed, were really smarter than people gave them credit for. He was quickly to the first village, just after sunrise. The residents were slowly waking up. This seemed to be a farming village, with a small marketplace in the center of town. Riding to the middle of the market area, he started his announce ment.
“Attention everyone! I am Prince Meier of Valahia, and I come to you for help!” He quickly had their attention. Slowly, a mob started to grow around him. “We are invaded! The Gunars march for the capital at Targov. They intend to claim all Valahia as their own! We need every strong arm you can spare to prevent this tragedy. Please! Will you not help?”
He pleaded with them, carrying on in the same way as more people gathered around. Already several dozen men had cheered at him in consent, grabbing spears and axes from their homes. These men were mostly from the older generation. They were working men, men that would not have left their work to volunteer for an invasion. This was different, and Meier made them see it. Those among them who had been soldiers took up their old armaments and pledged themselves to the cause. When all was done, Meier had around two hundred and fifty volunteers. It was more than he had hoped for. What Meier did not know was why he had done so well. These men had pledged to fight for more than Valahia. They had pledged to fight for him. He had won them over. A different man could not have done the same.
That whole day, Meier rode hard across the land to each farming and market village, always delivering the same heartfelt speech; and every time, he ended up with more than he had hoped for. One village even pledged an amazing five hundred men. These men needed no general. It was something Meier had learned from the Karavunians. These men fought for freedom. They fought for the right to have their own country. Meier was beginning to understand what that meant. And he was only eighteen. At this time the week before, his biggest worry was what to have for dinner. Meier had grown up in record time. But he wasn’t done yet. All told, he had recruited an extra three thousand men to march on Targov. He told them to converge just east of the city, and there they would meet the main f orce.
When Meier reached the infantry march again, he told them of the extra recruits and their approximate numbers. The old men nearly fell out of their sad dles.
“How did you manage it?” they asked, heads still spinning from the success of his plan.
“I just talked to them,” Meier explained laconically. They were amazed. This prince had become an unexpected wonder. Just a few days ago, he had been little more than a royal accessory. What had happened to make him into the man they saw before them? Perhaps, they came to believe, it was just that he had never been te sted.
Meanwhile at the castle, Assur and Ian had their hands full organizing the defense. The scouts brought more bad news. The Gunar force numbered around thirty thousand! Even with all the forces en route, the Valahians had only eighteen thousand or so. It looked as though they were in for a long siege. The best defense against such numbers was to outlast them. Even then, the outcome looked grim. Ian was the first to put forward a
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