Rise of the Crimson Standard

Chapter 3

"Percival" the First Lieutenant gestured with his hand for Percival to continue.

"Oh, just Percival, sir".

The Major General had called for a halt a few minutes ago and Percival had used the opportunity to find his platoon. The First Lieutenant waited a moment then sighed and gestured at one of the men behind him. "Harry, go show the Second Lieutenant to his platoon".

Harry nodded and saluted to Percival "If you'd just follow me, sir".

Percival nodded and followed him through the maze of standing soldiers. Harry abruptly stopped after a few seconds, nearly causing Percival to bump into him. He then gestured at a few of the standing men. "That's your Platoon, sir. Welcome to the Third".

Percival nodded again and looked at his men, who were staring at him while in salute. Harry scurried back off to his position. Percival looked at the men and said, "At ease, men. My name's Percival, your new Second Lieutenant. All of you from my Platoon, raise your hands". Some twenty men raised their hands. Percival nodded and said "Now, introduce yourselves".

The men looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Percival nodded at them, encouraging them to go on. One of them piped up "Private Turner, sir". Turner looked young. Too young to be with them. But then again, they weren't fighting anybody anytime soon. Percival nodded at him and looked at another soldier who was standing stonefaced, looking ahead. Somehow the man must've been able to sense Percival looking at him because he said, "Corporal Lucas, sir".

Before Percival could look at another man, he said "Private Anderson, sir".

"Private Smith".

"Ramirez".

And so on. Percival nodded at all of them and said, "I'm looking forward to serving with you, men. Now, Corporal Lucas, I have to talk to you about some things".

"Yes of course sir". Neither Percival, nor Lucas moved, since, in this crowd, someone was bound to hear their conversation. Percival would rather it be one of his men.

"Corporal Lucas, I'm new to this, and I'm going to rely on your experience. You're the backbone of this platoon. Keep the discipline tight, and ensure the men are ready and in order, whenever we need to be on the move. If you have any insights or recommendations, don't hesitate to share them with me. Together, we'll make this platoon one of the best in the platoon."

Lucas blinked. He clearly had not expected Percival to say this and nodded. Percival then said, "I'll be walking with you soldiers". Lucas nodded again, and murmurs went through the line. An officer walking on the ground beside his men was unheard of, in the military. Mostly, the officers just rode. A call went up from the front to reform the ranks. Percival's men took up their weapons and formed into a rectangle. Percival walked to the head of the formation and stood there with Lucas. Then the order to move out was heard and the men started their march.

The rest of the march was relatively uneventful, with few stops. On the way, Lucas explained the lack of artillery to him, saying that they had to be repaired at Timberwren, except for the Maxwell machine guns, sometimes called the Quickshots by the soldiers. The Maxwells were being carried in the wagons somewhere at the back. His men seemed pretty decent.

                          As Percival and his platoon continued their march, the sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the rugged terrain. The soldiers trudged on, their boots crunching on the gravel road, while the rhythmic clinking of their gear provided a background cadence to their journey.

Percival glanced back at his men, trying to remember the names they had shared earlier. Private Turner, Corporal Lucas, Private Anderson, Private Smith, Ramirez, and the others. He was determined to get to know each of them better, understand their strengths and weaknesses, and build a cohesive team.

The landscape around them was a mix of rolling hills and plains, and the front of the columns was marching on an exceptionally big hill. They'd crossed a bridge over a river a few minutes back. Percival glanced behind to see his men in formation. Lucas started whistling a tune. After a beat, Percival recognised the tune; the Flaming Verse, national anthem of Emberfell. Percival joined in, singing along to the tune. "In valor's light, we rise above-". A few of his men joined in

"To honor, truth, and endless love,

Our flaming hearts, they burn and sing,

For our people, the men, our leader, the king."

By now, it seemed like the entirety of the column had started to sing. Percival smiled as he sang. So far so good.

Charles and his men finally emerged from the woods to a river. Arlen looked at Charles. Charles looked back and said, "Get Soren, Lindon, Finn, and Anders and tell them to go ahead and find us a place to cross."

Charles looked back at the fort visible in the northern distance, and Centerspell, to the northwest. He could hear Arlen calling the soldiers. Charles then gestured to one of his officers. He nodded and blew his horn in a definite pattern to signal the back group to get unhorsed and rest for a few minutes. It was primitive, but effective. The men started getting off their horses and stretching. Some even opened their tiffins, gobbling down their food. Charles smiled for the seventh time that day. If everything had went according to research, then they'd have a new weapon against the bloody Nightstalkers. Arlen, of course, had been impassive as always. The rest of his officers had been training the men for the weapon's use since Charles had told them to, several months back. Now, they were as close to ready as they would ever get a chance to get. So, Charles had made a gamble that would either make the Vanguard a laughingstock among the higher tier officers or show them that they were a force to be reckoned with. His smile was replaced by a grimace. Damnit but he didn't want to think about what would happen if the bet didn't pay off. "Sir", it was Finn, holding his Whisperstride and looking at Charles. Charles nodded at him. "Sir, we've found a place to cross". Charles sighed and said "Good, rest a few seconds before we start again."

Finn nodded and got off his horse. That reminded Charles to get off of his, so he did. Arlen was walking towards him. Charles turned towards him, handing the reins of his horse to Finn. Arlen looked at him and said, "Your face speaks before you do, you know that?"

Charles raised an eyebrow. "Where's this coming from?"

"You've been jumping with excitement to get your hands on those new weapons you've had the Wardens testing".

"Yes, those are going to be crucial in pushing back the Nightstalker scourge".

As always, Arlen's face betrayed no emotion. Charles smiled at him. "Cheer up a bit. You're depressing me".

Arlen snorted and stalked off.

They'd reached their destination moments ago, and for some reason, the Major General had decided to reorder the army, putting Percival's platoon nearly at the edge of the forest. What bothered Percival was the fact that the Major General had decided to set up camp on the plains in front of the forest. More than half of the cavalry had been sent off to scout the hills surrounding them, and the General had decided not to send a few scouts into the forest. The worst thing about this charade was that, instead of camping some hundred meters from the forest, they'd camped some ten meters from it. Even now, some platoons were marching towards the rear in confusion. Bloody shitshow. A few tents had gone up from this side and most of the rear had their tents up. Percival didn't know why, but he felt ... strange, as if something had happened or was about to happen and he wasn't going to like it. His guts were feeling queasy, as if somewhere, something terrible was happening.

It was almost evening, and Percival had yet to pitch his own tent. He sighed. Time to get to work.