1237: The Spoils – Part 6 1237: The Spoils – Part 6 The generosity of his offer was made evident by the cheers of the n.
There were only two thousand of Karstly’s n present, with the others still guarding the Lonely Mountain, but from the noise of them, an observer would have thought there to be five tis that number.
“For General Rainheart’s n, who, with their brave charge, secured us another few important rungs on the ladder that led to our victory, you are awarded the sum of three months’ extra pay,” General Blackwell said.
The cheers ca, but there was a degree of disappointnt in them now, as they looked enviously at General Karstly’s troops, and compared the rewards that they had received compared to what they had been given.
“For my own troops, who served and General Karstly in the latter stages of the battle, I give you the sa sum of three months’ extra pay,” General Blackwell said.
“You fought where the fighting was thickest, and against a foe of the most dangerous sort.
Your bravery is owed such a reward.” Those n seed pleased enough with that.
Perhaps they had supposed that their own achievents would not be weighed as highly as Rainheart’s had, given that he had managed to decisively snatch victory on his own battlefield by his loneso, for their cheers were almost as excited as those of Karstly’s n.
“For General Broadstone and his soldiers, the Gods did not see it fit to give you an opportunity to appropriately demonstrate your valour.
Nevertheless, you held your castle well, under the command of your General, and it was because of your continued prevailing that we were given another outpost to harbour our troops and our supplies in when my own castle fell.
You are awarded the sum of two months’ extra pay.” Oliver’s eyebrow twitched.
He thought that to be a generous reward, when compared to the previous ones.
He’d expected, at most, for Broadstone’s n to be awarded a single month, given the quietness of their battlefield.
Perhaps the n themselves had expected the sa, for their cheers were genuine ones.
“Now we move to the valour of the individual,” Blackwell said.
“On the recomndations of your Captains, I have a list of n who are in need of the honour of a promotion to Sergeant.
The harshness of the fighting has taken many of our officers.
We put the hopes for the future of the army within you new bloods.
If the footsoldier is the at of the army, then the Sergeants are the first glimpses of bone.
Know the significance of your role.” He began to unwind a scroll long enough that it trailed from his chest all the way down to the bottoms of his legs.
One might have thought to hear a groan go out across the army, seeing such a long list, and knowing that a good while of announcents would surely await them.
But that groan would have only been carried by those that were a higher rank than Sergeants themselves, and with so few to give it voice, it was not heard.
The unranked foot soldiers were all eagerly rapt, waiting for their nas to be read.
‘There’s belief in all their faces,’ Oliver noted, as he looked around.
Even if a man thought it to be an impossibility, he could not dare hope.
The pay rise that ca with rising up to the rank of Sergeant was certainly not one to be taken lightly by any of the Serving Class n.
It was the difference between a monthly wage that barely made ends et, and one that could have been classed as comfortable.
Each ti a man’s na was read out, he positively bead.
His chest was puffed out in pride, and he walked all the way up to General Blackwell himself, in front of all those thousands of n.
General Blackwell took the ti to shake each of their hands.
His attention was focused entirely on them for the few short monts that they were there.
He gave them the golden tag that would indicate their rank once it was sown into the breast of their uniform, and then he offered each of them a few words of encouragent.
Looking upon it, Oliver could not deny that such an image was that of a good General.
And yet it was a General that he had his own doubts with, after seeing the thods that he had employed to further his victory.
The two notions didn’t knit together neatly in his mind, and he found himself increasingly troubled by that fact.
A handful of Patrick n were called up, after Oliver had put their nas forth.
When one of them belonged to Firyr, the Commander was unable to help his loud words of encouragent.
When the list of Sergeants was finally read, General Blackwell began on a considerably shorter list that promoted n to Commanders.
“The position of Commander is not one easily given,” Blackwell told them.
“For it to be given, with no new n brought to the army, a man must be replaced.
These Commanders that I have nad take the place of dead n – n who fought and died honourably for our cause.
They are given a weighty mantle to carry.
Their position cos with the responsibility to bear the expectations of those that had held their rank before them.
To honour their mory with performances that the dead would not scorn.” There were no such new Commanders to be had in the Patrick army.
Oliver supposed he had to be grateful for that.
He saw the sombre looks on the faces of other n, from other forces, as they went to receive that position.
The joy that the new Sergeants had shown seed a distant mory in comparison.
These were n with eyes still recalling the faces of dead n.
When it ca ti to na new Captains, Oliver’s own mood began to grow sombre.
He knew exactly which dead n would be in need of replacent there – for he had been responsible for two of them.
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