James Lowder - Crusade

Thom turned to see General Farl Bloodaxe, commander of the army's infantry. The bard knew the soldier well, for he was a frequent guest at Azoun's palace. Farl looked particularly dashing that night as he stood, one hand planted on his hip, the other grasping a line overhead. The final light of the setting sun cast deep shadows on his ebony skin and glinted in his green eyes. The wind tugged at the loose-fitting white shirt the general wore. That, coupled with his silver-buckled boots and tan breeches, made him look more a pirate than an infantry commander. It wasn't an image Farl fostered, Thom knew, for the general was a well-known supporter of law and order.

Thom smiled warmly. "Thank you for reminding me, General. It's not hard to lose track of time completely when watching the sea pass by, especially after it gets dark."

"I traveled by ship quite a lot when I was a younger, you know," the general noted, leaning on the railing. He looked up at the stars, just becoming visible in the night sky, and added, "It's the one thing I miss most about my days as a world traveler."

"Too bad Vangerdahast doesn't share your enthusiasm for ships," the bard said. "He looked quite ill when I saw him earlier."

The general took a long last look at the dark water rushing by the ship. "We'd best be going, Thom. The meeting will be underway by now."

Farl Bloodaxe was right. When he and Thom reached the king's cabin in the aft castle, Azoun was unrolling a map, talking about the reorganization of the troops that would take place once they were gathered in Telflamm. Vangerdahast, still slightly pale, sat by an open window, taking in deep breaths of the cool air. Finally, at either side of the table, the crusade's two other generals stood, listening intently to the Cormyrian monarch.

"After seeing the ships to Telflamm, I'll be going north up the coast to deliver supplies to King Torg and rendezvous with the troops from Zhentil Keep," Azoun said. "The dwarves, being creatures of the earth, won't travel by boat, so-" He stopped speaking when Thom and Farl entered the cabin.

"My apologies, Azoun," Farl said sincerely.

"Yes, milord," Thom added. "It's my fault we're late. I was mulling over a song at the railing when the general reminded me about the meeting."

"Leave it to a bard to forget an important meeting because of a song," one of the generals said gruffly. "Never did see much use in having them along on campaign. They can even be a downright nuisance. Why, once-"

"Please, Lord Harcourt," Azoun said quickly, preventing the cavalry general from launching into one of his endless war stories. "I chose Muse Reaverson to come along as court historian, not as an entertainer. I'd rather you didn't insult him."

Looking a bit shocked at the reproach, Lord Harcourt rubbed his long white mustache and mumbled an apology. He shifted uncomfortably in his hauberk under the king's gaze. Silently Azoun wondered if the cavalry commander ever took the chain mail shirt off, for he was the only armored man in the cabin.

Farl laughed and added, "Or you'll end up looking like a fool in the chronicles. Eternal infamy is a high price to pay for a minor insult."

Though both Thom and Azoun knew the infantry commander meant that last comment as a joke, they both frowned-each for a different reason. The barb brought the family history's disturbing depiction of Salember to Azoun's mind, while Thom simply felt a little insulted that someone could even suggest he would use the position of court historian to settle personal grudges.

The third general cleared his throat noisily. "You were saying, Your Highness, you'll meet with the dwarven lord and the Zhentish. . troops in the Great Dale." The impatience in the red-haired man's voice was barely hidden, but his hatred for the soldiers from Zhentil Keep was not.

"Yes, General Elventree," Azoun replied coldly. "Thank you for reminding us of our business."

Lord Harcourt and Vangerdahast both scowled at Brunthar Elventree. Neither man liked the general who was to lead the archers on the crusade. The red-haired warrior was a dalesman-a military leader from Battledale, more specifically-and he had been given the position in Azoun's army only as a concession to Lord Mourngrym and the other dalelords. The king had thought the appointment of a dalesman to lead the archers in combat a wise move, despite his earlier reservations. Elventree's election pleased the dalelords, and Azoun had hoped it might give the army a new unity.

The appointment seemed to be accomplishing just the opposite. General Elventree could barely conceal his dislike of the other generals, especially Lord Harcourt, whom he felt was elitist. He had also rubbed Vangerdahast the wrong way almost immediately by claiming that no battle was ever won through magic. Elventree didn't conceal his hatred of the Zhentish either, and he proved time and again that his temper could flare as brightly as his striking red hair.

Azoun did what he could to keep the dalesman in line, but he secretly worried that Brunthar Elventree's myopic bigotry was only a prelude to the problems he would face later in uniting the soldiers as an efficient fighting force.

The king broke the tension that had settled over the room by introducing a topic he'd discussed only that morning with Thom. "Before we begin in earnest, gentlemen" he said calmly, "I propose we adopt a single name for the crusading army."

"Yes," Vangerdahast said from his seat near the window. "A single name will help bring us together"

For the first time since they'd met, all three generals agreed. Farl Bloodaxe and Brunthar Elventree nodded, while Lord Harcourt added a hearty, "Here, here!"

"Any suggestions?" the king asked.

After a moment's silence, Lord Harcourt tugged at his long white mustache and said. "I place the title 'Knights of Faerun' under consideration."

"All right, Lord Harcourt," Thom said as he noted the name on a clay tablet. "What about the name you mentioned to me earlier, Your Highness?"

"The Alliance of the West," Azoun offered. "Or just the Alliance."

"I don't have a suggestion myself," Brunthar said. "But I like 'the Alliance' much better than 'the Knights of Faerun.' After all," he added sarcastically, "we aren't all going to ride horses into battle."

Vangerdahast cut in with another possible name before Lord Harcourt could respond to the dalesman's snide comment. "How about 'the Confederacy of Western Powers?"

"Too long," Farl said. He glanced at the map, then concluded, "The Alliance is the best, I think."

Thom Reaverson noted his approval, as did Vangerdahast. Only Lord Harcourt paused before throwing his support to the title. The king thought that he saw the old cavalryman pout slightly before he mumbled, "You have my support, Your Highness."

"Fine, then," Azoun said brightly. "Now we can get to more important business." The king pushed a book onto one corner of the map to stop it from rolling and pointed to Lake Ashane, otherwise known as the Lake of Tears. "This is where the Tuigan started their invasion of Ashanath."

"And by now," Vangerdahast offered, "they are certainly through Ashanath and into Thesk." He walked slowly to the map and traced west from the lake. "The Tuigan probably haven't reached the town of Tammar, which is halfway between the Lake of Tears and the place where we'll land. However, the city will likely fall before we enter the conflict."

Farl rubbed his chin. "What about local resistance?"

"Either wiped out by the Tuigan or caught up in skirmishes with the Red Wizards of Thay," Azoun replied. He shook his head. "We can expect only a small addition to the army once we muster outside Telflamm."

Each man was silent for a moment, caught up in considering the hard times that obviously lay ahead of the Alliance. The wind whistled through the open window in high, haunting fits. The breeze had grown so steady, in fact, that Vangerdahast reluctantly closed the heavy leaded glass. The groans and creaks of the wooden ship and the shouts of the men on deck filled the momentary silence in the cabin.