Eza found Ulrick sitting on the steps leading up to the building that served as their headquarters, looking down at his feet. She knew exactly what he was doing there: it was the same thing she’d been doing. General Polain, the General of the Royal Caithian Army, had arrived by train earlier that evening. They were supposed to have a meeting right after the funeral to discuss everything that had happened, as well as what they planned to do about it. She hadn’t reported directly to headquarters: she’d taken some time to walk around the fort, take a few deep breaths. Sort her feelings before she had to plan a war strategy. It looked like she wasn’t the only one procrastinating.
“How are you feeling?” Eza didn’t know why she bothered asking: she knew exactly how he felt. Ulrick’s face always spoke volumes more than his words ever did. Right then, his face told her that he was fighting to keep a level head.
He didn’t even look up at her as she sat next to him. “I didn’t realize how young Marsh’s kids were until tonight.”
Eza sighed. She knew where this was going. “Didn’t Silas tell you to stop doing this to yourself?”
“It’s my fault,” he said, putting his head in his hands. She could see his hands shaking. “They’re not going to grow up with a father. Because I couldn’t stand my ground.”
She never knew what to say in situations like that. She wanted to reassure him, tell him that the Giskens would’ve found those two either way. But, she knew him too well: it wouldn’t do any good. He did a pretty good job at putting up a brave face, but the truth was, he didn’t think much of himself. Hadn’t since his father told him that he was dead to him for enlisting. He’d gone on a couple ranges where his partner didn’t come back, and each time, he’d say that he should’ve been able to save them. It was a vicious cycle, and it ate away at him a little more each time.
Eza wished that they could send him away, tell him to take some time to get his head screwed on right. But, they didn’t have time for that. They had a war to fight, and they’d need him.
“You know Marsh would want to smack you upside the head if he heard you talking like that, right?” she finally asked.
He stayed quiet for a few seconds. “I should’ve died a thousand times in the past week. I did die. But They brought me back. And they let Brewer and Marsh die.”
He looked up at her. She could see the heartache in his eyes. The pain that threatened to destroy him.
“Why do the Gods keep letting me live?” he asked.
Saints knew how many times she’d asked that same question. When the Giskens invaded Kurzh, it seemed like everyone around her dropped like flies, while she remained. She’d watched grown men get shot, watched people starve. She, herself, had almost died from a bayonet, from starvation in Ilyaskoe. Almost died from exhaustion and exposure trying to get out of Kurzh. By the time she’d reached Caithia, everyone that had ever cared about her was dead, leaving behind a girl who was afraid of her own shadow. There were still days that she asked herself that same question.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “They probably didn’t have wishing you could’ve died instead in mind, though.”
Before Ulrick could respond, a figure came towards them in the darkness. Eza knew who he was before she even saw his face: the muttering and cursing under his breath gave him away.
“Why on the Gods’ green earth did Polain decide we need to have a meeting?” Silas grumbled as he approached. “Surely, this can wait until morning!”
Eza raised an eyebrow. “You say that as if you planned on sleeping and not drinking.”
Silas snorted. “Don’t know when you became a prude.” He looked to Ulrick. “You feeling up to this, kid? Doc probably wants you back at the infirmary, anyway.”
Ulrick stood up, wiping his eyes. “I’m fine.”
Liar. She was grateful that he decided to stick around, anyway: they were going to need him.
“Let’s get this over with,” Silas grumbled.
The three of them walked into headquarters.
Polain was, of course, already waiting for them. He stood at the long table that took up most of the main room, studying the map of Caithia that was rolled out onto it.
Eza and Ulrick stood at attention. Silas, as the senior officer, saluted. “General: Senior Commander Baines and Commanders Praetor and Kurzhakova entering the war room.”
Polain looked up, then saluted back. He dropped his salute, and Silas did the same.
“I take it that all of you decided to clear your heads after the… emotional proceedings, tonight,” Polain said. “I hope it worked: we have a lot to discuss, tonight.”
Silas’ eyelid twitched. Eza wouldn’t be surprised if they ended the night with Polain threatening to have him removed from command.
Polain motioned to the map. “Gather around: I need you to catch me up on the situation.”
The three of them obeyed.
Polain, as it turned out, had taken the time to build a situational map. The map was covered in battle coins: small, painted disks meant to represent military units. At the moment, the map only had blue battle coins on it: set carefully at their positions as they were before the breach. The coins at the border were marked with X’s for infantry, with a couple with one slanted line for cavalry and a couple with circles for the Watch. Besides the borders, disks sat in spots with forts. He’d even included some of the garrisons of major cities, like Clachster and Marne, as well as naval ships along the coast, marked with anchors. As of earlier that week, that map would’ve represented the locations of the entire Caithian military.
Eza eyed the border, though. Stared at the coins that represented platoons, companies, battalions. Fifty men, two-hundred men, eight-hundred men. How many of those coins were about to be taken off the map?
“How recent is this map?” Silas asked.
“These were the last known locations of all of our troops and ships as of King Thias’ last telegraph,” General Polain said. He looked back down at the map. “Before we can plan a strategy, we need to know what of ours, exactly, has been destroyed.” He looked up at Ulrick. “Commander Praetor: what did you see from the enemy?”
Ulrick looked down at the map, silent. Stared at the same coins Eza did. No doubt thinking of the people they represented.
Then, he began to take off coins. “The Giskens breached the front here. I don’t know where it was coming from, but they had supporting fire from artillery. They breached right where troops from the 1-10th, 1-5th, and 1-7th infantry battalions were located, with companies from the 5th Watch battalion detatched. The 1-10th was effectively destroyed, along with 5-1st Watch company detatchment. The 1-7th and the 1-5th fell back to the 3-1st brigade headquarters, along with the 5-2nd, 5-3rd, and 5-4th.”
Ulrick began to take red coins out of one of the ceramic bowls that sat underneath the table. “Troops from the 1st Division of the Gisken army exploited the breach. Only about a battalion’s worth initially, but with most of our artillery out for repairs, that was enough. They were able to push through to the 3-1st brigade headquarters, where myself and King Thias were located. While the protection force from the 1-8th infantry battalion fought them, a company-sized detachment arrived to reinforce the Giskens. They were able to destroy brigade headquarters.”
He placed an enemy battalion coin in the middle of the woods, about fifteen kilometers from Airde. Thaos. “They’ve breached as far as Thaos, about fifteen kilometers from here. They’ve dug in; I can only assume they’re waiting for reinforcements to continue on to Airde.” Ulrick took stock of the map, making sure everything was correct as far as his memory went. “All in all, one battalion destroyed, several more severely attrited, and one brigade headquarters destroyed. And as far as we know, they breached in multiple places along the border.”
One battalion destroyed. Several more severely attrited. Headquarters destroyed. And that was just what they knew about.
Polain slicked his hair back, his eyes widening. Likely realizing just how dire the situation was.
“Have we heard anything from the rest of 3rd division?” Silas asked.
“We received a single distress call from 3-2nd brigade,” Polain said quietly. “Nothing since then.”
3-1st and 3-2nd down. It was probably safe to assume that 3-3rd was down, too.
Their worst fears were being realized. The Giskens had kept a wide front, made sure they were as spread out as possible. The Giskens would be able to keep it up with their conscripted army of Kurzhians, but not them.
“I’ll give them this: those bastards know how to work fast,” Silas said.
“I don’t suppose any of you have any ideas, do you?” Polain asked.
They all immediately looked to her.
Of course.
Eza examined the map a little more. Her mind sorted through strategy after strategy, trying to find one where they came out on top. Every one of them ended with surrender, or heavy losses that they might as well have lost the entire war. And most of the ones that ended with them winning felt like they were simply delaying the inevitable.
But, they had a job to do. And that job was to fight until they couldn’t.
“Whatever we end up doing, it needs to involve getting more men,” Eza said. “We didn’t have enough to fight off the Giskens before they destroyed nearly an entire brigade and saints know what else.”
Polain nodded as he looked down at the map. “I did have an idea for that. But… I don’t know that it’ll go over well.”
“Neither will getting slaughtered by Giskens,” Eza said bluntly.
“Well… back in Tsedang, every family with men of military age was required to send one man to the military,” he said. “Every son after that would earn more land for the family.”
“You’re right: that wouldn’t go over well,” Ulrick said. “We can’t have the people ready to join the Giskens because we needed to boost numbers.”
Polain looked to Eza. “What do you think?”
Eza looked down at the map, again. She wasn’t sure about the idea of conscripting an army. They’d done it in Kurzh, and it almost caused a civil war. But… they had to do something.
“I’m for it,” she finally said. “We’d have to give them some sort of choice, though. Perhaps in branch. We can test it here, see how people react to it.”
Ulrick looked disappointed. Silas just grunted.
Polain nodded. “What else can we do?”
“Before we get an army, you mean?” Eza asked. “We dig in, prepare our men. And we pray.”
They all nodded solemnly.
By the end of this, we’ll either win, or we’ll all die, Eza thought to herself.
She was at peace with the second option: she would rather die than live under another Gisken occupation.
***
Elise decided to go into town the day after the funeral. She needed to do something other than think about her family, or the Giskens that lay in wait just down the road. She needed to feel normal, be normal. If just for a few minutes.
She ended up at a cobbler’s, a full purse in hand. They’d given it to her after the funeral, told her that, when a Watchman was killed, their family got what would’ve been their loved one’s wages for the following year. Watchmen didn’t earn much money, but it was enough for someone to live comfortably, if not luxuriously. Enough to make sure she had shoes that weren’t on the verge of tearing on the soles.
After nearly an hour of deliberation among what felt like an infinite number of shoes, she’d finally settled on two pairs of boots. Both nicer than any other shoes she’d ever owned. She’d only just paid for them when she heard a commotion out on the street.
Elise and the cobbler both looked out the shop window. People were gathering on the other side of the street, around a soldier standing on a crate. He was saying something, but she couldn’t hear what over the sound of the crowd. A crowd that didn’t sound very happy.
“Be careful out there, miss,” the cobbler said as he wrapped her second pair of boots up in a box. “I’d hate to see you get mixed up in that ruckus.”
“Thank you, sir.”
She walked out onto the street.
The crowd had grown around the soldier, extending all the way back to the cobbler’s. The soldier was trying to settle them down, calm some of the fearful voices that shouted questions. Elise couldn’t hear any of what they said.
“What’s going on?” she asked the man standing next to her. He had a wide-eyed look on his face, as if he’d seen the Blight.
“They’re conscripting soldiers,” he said. “Each family with military-aged men is to send someone to Fort Airde or Fort Eudoxia to report for service.”
Elise could hardly believe it. One person from each family.
One person.
It was as if the heavens had opened to show her the way. What Eza had said about making certain nobody could hurt her like the Giskens had ever again came back to mind.
She knew what she was going to do, now.
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