967: The Advance Force – Part 7 967: The Advance Force – Part 7 That was enough of a lash of the whip that it sent most of the camp into a flight of speed, as they scrambled for their supply carriages, and for their sacks of food for breakfast.
“I’ll see it arranged, my Lord,” Verdant said, standing up to tend to their own supply carriages.
It was only because of Verdant that the Patrick n had managed to get away with being few logistical personnel – he could do the work of a handful of supply accountants if he had the mind to.
As the n went about finding their morning als, Colonel Gordry made his way through camp, inspecting all of them.
He moved like a ram would, Oliver thought.
The way he thrust his chest out, and every step seed like a provocation of violence.
He was very much a Blackthorn man through and through.
More than once did Oliver see him boot a sleeping man with enough force to break a rib.
They were awoken to both pain, and loud shouting, as the Colonel ensured discipline in them first thing in the morning.
“SLEEPING AS OTHERS WORK, ARE WE?
EH?” “N-no Colonel!” The n would reply ekly, but whatever they said seed like grounds to set the Colonel off further.
“You’re calling a liar then?
?
A LIAR?
BY SO SOLDIER WHO CAN’T EVEN WAKE UP ON TI?” The Colonel fud, grabbing them by their collars and thrusting his red face up close.
“…If you needed any further reason to get up, I suppose now you have one,” Jorah comnted, seeing the man at work.
“It isn’t a wonder that the Blackthorn n are so fearless.
If their Commanders are all like that, I imagine they fear them more than the enemy,” Kaya said, seeming positively relieved that the Colonel wasn’t coming in their direction.
“It’s just about discipline,” Karesh said.
“Don’t get on the wrong side of him, and he wouldn’t pick a fight with you, I’d reckon.” “Ohh..?” Both Kaya and Jorah gave Karesh the sa raised eyebrow, as the youth pretended to know what he was talking about.
“That’s exactly it,” a Blackthorn man grunted, overhearing their conversation.
Luckily, he was one of Lasha’s n, rather than one of the Colonel’s direct subordinates, but that didn’t do anything to alleviate the stiffness from Oliver’s three retainers.
He saluted when Jorah looked at him, showing begrudging respect.
“Good morning, Commander.” Jorah saluted hesitantly back.
He very much didn’t feel in charge.
The man was at least twice as wide as him, and a head taller.
A full boulder of a man, with a good decade of years on him as well.
“Did you want sothing?” Lasha asked, wiping her eyes as Alia continued to brush her hair.
“I was wondering on breakfast, my Lady,” the man replied, saluting.
“Verdant is seeing to it,” she replied.
“You can send n to help him, if you want.
I suppose that will make it go quicker.” The man saluted again.
“Thank you, my Lady.” Despite his words, it was hard to tell whether he was pleased or not.
“You ought to show at least a little military politeness,” Oliver told her.
“The n will grow sick of their discipline if you do not acknowledge it.” “…But they’re father’s n,” Lasha replied.
“They would do it even if I didn’t ask them to.” “That isn’t the point…” Oliver said, fighting to hold back a sigh.
No matter how much he tried to push Lasha to lead, she deflected everything with a similar grace as she would in true combat.
“There we are, my Lady,” Alia declared in short order, after brushing all the debris out of Blackthorn’s long hair, and setting it into a braid, ready for a day of fighting.
“Thank you, Alia,” Lasha said with that quiet way that she had.
Alia gave a big broad smile.
“You’re most welco!” she said.
Only to catch Oliver staring, and that look soon transitioned into a glare.
She might have gone a step further, if she hadn’t seen the Colonel approaching their way out of the corner of her eye.
Suddenly, her face was serious again, as she pulled at Pauline’s fingers, urging her to the sa level of alertness.
Blackthorn remained seated, though apparently she could see the man’s approach as well.
“Patrick!” The man bellowed.
Oliver saluted, hearing his na.
“Colonel,” he replied as crisply as he could, in a way that would have satisfied even Captain Lombard.
The man looked him up and down for a good few seconds, searching for any faults.
He must not have found any, for he grunted, and quickly moved on.
“You’re to be fighting under , from today onwards,” he said.
“I expect discipline.
You follow my orders to the letter.
Stepping out of line will result in the sternest of punishnt.
Disobeying on the battlefield will be judged as insubordination, and punished harshly as such.” “I have no complaints, Colonel,” Oliver replied.
He’d known he was to be set under a Colonel eventually.
He was at least pleased that he was able to learn sothing of the man before the fighting was to start.
“My Lady,” the Colonel said, dipping her head towards Lasha.
“There’s a few hundred n I’ve got spare if you wish to command.
All these n here are yours, as far as I’m concerned.” “I do not wish to,” Lasha said, shooting him down in an instant.
“The n I have already are too much.” If anyone else had spoken to the Colonel like that, they would have been struck down on the spot.
But since it was Lasha Blackthorn, the Colonel did no more than flinch.
“…You prefer to earn your numbers, then?
I well understand, my Lady.
That is an admirable trait.
I will have you ready in position with your n, so that you can secure the glory that you seek.” “I wish to stay here,” Lasha replied.
“I do not want to be positioned differently.
I know how to serve under Captain Patrick, and that is how I wish to remain.” Again, the Colonel was struck dumb.
This ti, however, his rage was directed Oliver’s way, as if he was sohow to bla for what Lasha had said.
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