Seated at the head of a makeshift stone table, the great overlord wore an expression of boredom beneath his well-oiled beard. The gray hairs creeping into the corner hadn't troubled him but he felt he'd be an old man before this blasted meeting finished. He'd rather be on the field than listening to yet another council with nothing new to say.
"Lord Isebrand," began a tense young man with short, rust-colored hair. Helfrich, if Isebrand recalled correctly. The as yet undistinguished whelp hadn't made a name for himself. "The men have reported very little contact with the enemy since we set out. A few stragglers in the forests and no tracks to suggest significant movement."
There was a heavy pause. "And?" bellowed Isebrand. There was more annoyance in his voice than the man had intended but much less than he felt. Helfrich stammered for a moment and continued. "My lord, we... that is to say, some of the men feel we're holding back when we should move forward. Our band is strong; we should take the fight to the brutes!"
A steely gaze from the lord quickly drained the sudden burst of energy from younger man as well as most of the color from his face. Isebrand thought the boy might faint until a hand the color and weight of cast iron lay on his shoulder and guided him aside as if a child. "My lord, if I may."
"Of course, Roelof." A wry smile threatened the edge of his lips. The man stood a head taller than any of the group save the overlord himself, Isebrand being still at a disadvantage. Roelof was a career soldier who never wasted an unnecessary word and shared a distaste for meetings. Isebrand quite liked him.
Roelof dipped his head and thought about his words carefully before he spoke. "The men are growing restless. Our small victories til now have stoked their confidence. Many are young and untested, seeking glory." His tone and stance were perfectly neutral but behind him, Helfrich looked as if he'd been struck. Isebrand, of course, recognized that the words weren't entirely meant for himself. "However," continued Roelof, "I find the scouts' reports of the barbarian movements to be troubling." His face worked for a moment as if the admission had soured his mouth. Something in the man's words struck an ominous chord in Isebrand.
"You feel the brutes may be organizing."
"Yes, my lord."
"You think the brainless giants are organized."
A mix of anger and something else flashed across the large man's face in reaction to the commander's mocking tone. His jaw tensed as he replied. "I believe the potential threat shouldn't be ignored. My lord." That last came a beat later than Isebrand would have liked but he maintained his composure flawlessly.
His inclination was to laugh the man out of the tent. Instead, he weighed the man's words carefully. Roelof wasn't an imaginative man by any measure. What he was, Isebrand knew, was experienced, and his instincts reliable. It would be foolish to treat such a man as a fool without hearing him out.
"I never imagined the old rock-eaters would give us a real challenge but I agree that it's worth investigating." He tapped his square fingers on the stone briefly while he thought. After a breath he straightened himself and finally looked alert. "We'll maintain our present march." Isebrand knew without looking that Helfrich had a mind to protest but he didn't wait for it. "If the barbarians are plotting then we shouldn't give them any new ideas. Ditmar," a slight man stepped forward as if appearing from thin air. The scoutmaster had a gift for going unnoticed until he wished otherwise. "Send two of your people ahead; and send with them a troll." Ditmar raised a salute and slipped from the tent like a ghost. Roelof raised a dark eyebrow. Another man, near Helfrich's age and with an enviable blue-black beard, stepped forward with a puzzled expression.
"A troll, my lord?" The ape-men were nearly as large as the giants but their docile nature meant they were used for little more than beasts of burden.
Isebrand saw the look of recognition on Roelof's face and gestured for him to explain. His thick brow creased like landslide as he considered the opportunities this might afford. "The ape will cover both the noise and the scent of the scouts while sniffing out any nearby giants. They're known to ignore trolls in their territory as the trolls keep their distance."
Nodding, Isebrand stood up and dismissed the group with a wave. "Even if the trogs learned a new trick, our scouts will get close enough now to spy on them. The rest of you, carry on and don't give wind of this to the men just yet." In turn, they saluted and left the tent. "Roelof, a moment."
The large man stopped mid-step and turned to face him. "My lord."
Isebrand looked the man in the eye. He didn't quite have to crane his neck to manage it. "I trust you know as well as I what it will mean if the rock-eaters have learned to think." Roelof had an idea and the thought stood up the hair on the old soldier's neck.
Frontier land, Dolvar warcamp, late Second Era
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