Military action can go many different ways from the cliché well oiled machine to the more common barbaric rabble. My particular force leaned toward the former and each unit operated like perfectly tuned independent cogs of a ten story clock.
Ten thousand soldiers marched from our lands all the way up to the outskirts of Ambrose’s borders. Wilmot’s Corner had always been my planned launching point because it was the final trading post before entering a different province. We would follow the Iron River further north toward the Vallen Foundry which produced almost all of the armaments for the Northern Lords.
Guthri’s voice rang out nearby as I prepared for the march in my tent. They’d have to break it down soon but there were a few last minute plans to put in motion.
Cornelius mirrored our force’s numbers at close to ten thousand. Resources were much tighter in the north and he had no where to expand without infringing on the empire proper. I had always figured that these lands should have simply been grants to spend time away from home in the summer because anyone with ambition would soon outgrow their confines.
Undara on the other hand, had a wild string of expansion. Our active forces where thirty thousand strong with another fifty thousand beyond that in reserve. For many provinces, supporting such an army would be impossible but in truth, I could have likely pushed us up to the one hundred thousand that the emperor enjoyed without too much of a financial struggle.
I had sent spies a full month before we left and to my delight, Ambrose’s entire roster was returned to me in plenty of time to organize the appropriate response. We would be facing swordsmen, cavalry, musketeers and pikemen. There was no specialty in the north. They were generally just tough and stalwart fighters. They had maintained their lands from sheer brutality and an unwillingness to ever give up. That was their only admirable quality.
Undara in particular had always been exceptionally gifted with swordsmen. Since the day that I could hold a weapon, I started to learn the blade. Later we took it a step further and ended up with an impressive cavalry. For this battle, I’d be relying on our horsemanship, our ability to organize and some well placed gunners.
I personally hated siege equipment and was eternally thankful for such a talented lot of engineers to handle them. We brought thirty cannons which should have had the power to knock down walls if required but I really hoped that we could get the castle in tact. If we left it in the charge of whatever Ambrose rose up to claim their title and lands, I would be responsible for making them passably defensible.
The battlefield I had picked for our encounter was a plain just five miles beyond the river. The foundry would be visible still and I planned to raze it to the ground if the battle turned against us. My backup plan was to rob them of their ability to make war no matter what and if I had to return with another twenty thousand men, then they’d be that much more ineffective against us.
There were hills on either side of where I wanted the conflict to take place but they were too far to do much but hide reserve forces in. Initially, my thought had been to place musketeers in those areas to let them pick off Ambrose’s forces before we even met one another but the chances of receiving the same treatment made me thankful it wasn’t going to happen. Thank goodness for semi-accurate cartography.
Our forces would face east and upon crushing the forces in our path, we would have a straight shot directly to Ambrose’s fortress. Barring any sort of honest resistance on the way beyond the curious looks from peasants, I anticipated that we could have the entire situation resolved inside of three days.
I was optimistic.
“My Lady,” Kyra stepped inside. “We’re ready to break down the rest of the tents and the scouts have gone on ahead.”
“Excellent,” I finished staring at my map and folded it up, packing a trunk. “Anything untoward you want to report?”
“No, ma’am,” Kyra walked over and offered me my knife. “Retrieved as you requested. The burgomaster took the money after all.”
“Sensible man,” I sheathed the weapon and pulled on my jacket. “We have to get to the foundry before midday. That’ll put us against Ambrose later this afternoon. Have Guthri start everyone moving. Leave a unit of swordsmen to guard the supply crews.”
“Of course,” Kyra backed toward the tent flap, pausing. “Is there anything else?”
“No, I’ll join you as soon as I’ve got my gear.”
“Do you want some help?” Kyra took a step toward me.
I considered her request briefly but shook my head. “No, just let them know I’ll vacate the tent in a moment so they won’t have to bring it down around me.”
There was a harsh breeze of that winter chill that bit my cheeks as I emerged, making the ends of my jacket whip to my left. “Ah, the north…” I muttered, moving away as the supply crews began to detach the pegs securing my tent to the ground.
Troops were already marching out of the camp, moving in a rhythmic, disciplined precession that I had become so familiar with. My unit waited on their horses, twenty-four people including myself. Kyra was already mounted up, holding the reigns to the white mare that I’d been riding since I was barely seventeen.
I mounted up in a fluid motion, settling into the saddle with a sigh. I could remember back ages before when it wasn’t a comfortable place to be and the first long march I made from that vantage left me sore and blistered for days. My muscles seemed to have adjusted, my bones gotten used to the posture required for long rides.
“You all ready?” I glanced over my shoulder at each face, noting the determined focus. Each offered a nod in reply; my cavalry was quite the a somber group. No shouting and drawing of weapons. No wild chant to lead us out. We were calculated efficiency. The other soldiers in the army weren’t quite so eccentric.
Northern topography was fairly predictable and I suppose lovely if one cared to describe landscape as such. Tall pines, jutting rocks, snow capped mountains and wind swept fields straight out of song and myth. It was a harsh land and people felt themselves tested when they traveled there. It was a testament to mettle when someone managed to return to civilization.
The Iron River had tall banks with swift moving, white capped water. Fording it would not be particularly pleasant and the bridges to cross it were few and far between. It provided the western border for the Ambrose lands and was rarely guarded due to the difficulty in fording the waters with any noteworthy men or supplies.
I was particularly surprised that Wilmot’s Corner would allow the foundry to continue to operate up stream from them. The river received its name for the gray materials that colored it on its way toward the sea. It wasn’t fit for drinking and the mere presence of the pollutants had caused issues for children that played too closely to it.
These problems were not isolated to the north but it was worse there because they had so few means of collecting nourishment. The ground was frozen often enough that a raging river would have been an excellent source of water. Even when wells were not iced over, there was a concern that the water might be mingling with something bad. It was no wonder these people were bitter and angry.
All of us had studied every conflict that had happened in the north. It was autumn so the snow hadn’t fallen but there was a criticism for an action that could involve a siege taking place during the winter. My goal was that we spend the winter in the Ambrose home before making our way back south to Undara lands in the spring.
There were two points which we could attack: the farms which caused the contention in the first place and the plains that I had chosen. The former was a whole lot of broken land that would be utterly ruined if Ambrose attacked us as we were trying to make our way to his keep. The latter would be much more difficult for them to do anything more than field an army.
