James Lowder - Crusade

Once outside, Azoun ordered a guard to wake Thom in an hour, at which time the bard was to begin packing Vangerdahast's belongings. Since the wizard's tent would be behind the Alliance's lines, the king decided not to have the unconscious royal mage moved. For now, at least.

Actually, what to do with Vangerdahast during the battle was the least of Azoun's problems. A more pressing dilemma was the command of the War Wizards, which would now have to be given to another mage. The king knew the choice would not be difficult to make, for the War Wizards had a strict hierarchy. The next ranking mage would simply take over as commander. However, Azoun had no idea if this other wizard knew of Vangerdahast's plan for the battle.

It was likely that the plans had not been shared. Vangerdahast was secretive, and he tended to reveal only a little about his projects, even to Azoun. That tendency was the source of the king's other big dilemma, as well. With Vangerdahast unable to cast any spells, Azoun had no way to contact Queen Filfaeril or Princess Alusair. The royal mage had made it very clear that only he knew how to home in on the Obarskyr family's signet rings. Vangerdahast always claimed that this insured no one could abuse the tracking devices, but Azoun now cursed himself for not demanding some other way to contact his family quickly.

With these problems weighing heavily on his mind, the king returned to his pavilion and met with the generals. Farl, Brunthar, and Lord Harcourt were sitting around the large table in Azoun's tent, a map of the immediate area spread between them. The king briefly explained that Vangerdahast was still unconscious and outlined the ramifications of that problem.

"The Tuigan should be here in an hour or two," Farl offered, drawing a large red arrow on the map to indicate the enemy's movement. "We've just been discussing alternative troop placements."

Walking to the head of the table, Azoun glanced down at the map and shook his head. "It's far too late to consider changing our plans. Our soldiers will expect us to array as we've practiced." He turned a meaningful eye to the commanders of the archers and cavalry. "As has been proven to my satisfaction, we can't undermine the men's expectations at this late date."

"But Torg isn't here," Brunthar Elventree noted. "Without his infantry support, my archers will be vulnerable."

Farl took a drink from a mug that was holding one corner of the map flat. As the paper curled slightly, he glanced at the dalesman. "The infantry we have now will be enough. Two thousand dwarves wouldn't make that much difference anyway." He smoothed the map and replaced the mug. "I agree with Azoun. We should stay the course we've plotted already."

Clearing his throat, Lord Harcourt added, "The plans we've set are sound. They follow all the dictums and suggestions of the great battles of King Rhigaerd II."

Following his father's rules of war was not what Azoun had had in mind when he suggested an organization for the battle lines. Common sense dictated most of the placement, and the little the generals knew of Tuigan tactics suggested the rest. The king scanned the map and picked up a pen.

"This really isn't a matter for debate. We'll array as we planned," he said, inking the pen. "At least for this engagement. . though with a bit of luck, we'll hurt the khahan enough that he'll turn now."

The generals all smiled and murmured their approval, but none of them truly believed such an easy victory was possible. Azoun didn't either, but he knew that he had to present his facade of confidence to his commanders as well as his troops. "Of course we can't rely on chance too much," the king added with a sincere smile. "Lady Tymora always favors those who make their own luck."

Azoun bent his attention to the map and sketched out the position he would take in the Alliance's battle lines. After marking a small blue crown, the king handed the pen to Farl, who positioned the infantry.

In a steady, smooth hand, the black general marked two lines to represent the footsoldiers under his command. The first line was centered slightly in front of Azoun's crown and ran wide to either side of the king's mark. "This will be the main body of infantry," he noted with his deep voice, glancing up at the king. "It holds most of our pikemen, spears, and so on."

Farl then added a second, thinner line behind the first. "And this is the second rank, made up of swordsmen rather than men with polearms." As the generals all knew, the second line was not there to stop a Tuigan charge, but to fight at close quarters once the battle got under way. Shorter weapons, like swords and axes, would be of far more use in a press than spears or pikes.

After taking the pen from Farl, Brunthar Elventree inked it again. "The archers go here, here, here, and here." Each location to which the dalesman pointed received a blotchy triangle of ink. When the archers' commander was done, four large groups of bowmen were interspersed along the second line of infantry.

Next, Lord Harcourt took the pen. With sweeping, ornate strokes, he added wings to the lines of infantry. "And the nobles will guard the flanks," he said, then bent down and added a few more marks to the map. "My cavalry will sweep in as soon as the infantry and archers have stopped the barbarians."

The last comment was stated as fact, and Azoun was pleased by the confidence Lord Harcourt seemed to be putting in the less experienced generals. Neither Farl nor Brunthar had been involved in a campaign on this scale before.

Finally the pen passed back to the king. He inked it again and added the remaining details to the Alliance's battle lines. A large W denoted the wizards' position, behind the line of mixed infantry and archers. To the mages' rear would lie the camp itself, which Azoun depicted as a number of blocks.

"I want the refugees gathered behind this pavilion," the king noted after he'd finished drawing. "That will put our army and most of the camp between them and the fighting."

The three generals nodded in agreement, and Farl volunteered to see that the king's wishes were fulfilled. That settled, Azoun reviewed the signals the standard-bearers would use to relay his orders, then asked for questions. There were none.

"May the Goddess of Luck and the God of Battle look favorably upon us," the king concluded. As General Elventree and Lord Harcourt turned to go, Azoun clapped them both on the shoulder. "I don't suppose I'll see you before the Tuigan arrive, so fare well. I know you'll both fight bravely."

Lord Harcourt dismissed the parting with a wave. "The barbarians will be routed by sunset," he said firmly as he left.

Brunthar Elventree and Farl Bloodaxe exchanged worried glances. "Let's hope," the dalesman said and followed the cavalry commander to the lines.

"What was that all about?" Azoun asked Farl when the others had gone.

The infantry commander paused, then pursed his lips. "We-Brunthar and I-feel that, well, Lord Harcourt may be underestimating the Tuigan's strength. Given the chance, he'd probably try to rout them with the nobles alone."

Guiding Farl to the exit, Azoun said, "I agree with your assessment, my friend, but Lord Harcourt is a good soldier. He'll follow my commands when it comes down to a fight, so his mistaken disregard for the enemy's strength doesn't matter." When the infantry commander paused at the door, the king added, "Besides, there are plenty of things I'm counting on you for already. Leave the command of the generals to me; it gives me something to occupy my time."

A sly smile on his face, Farl bowed and headed into the heart of the camp to oversee the movement of the refugees. Azoun watched the commander go, then called for a squire to help him don the rest of his armor.

Less than an hour later, after a quick visit to the temporary head of the War Wizards, the king was touring the battle lines. He walked a little stiffly in his full suit of plate mail, but with the practiced gait of one accustomed to the heavy burden of armor. Azoun personally favored training in battle conditions, and he'd often spent an hour or two in the height of summer practicing his swordsmanship dressed in his full armor. Seeing the distress in some of his soldiers' faces as the early morning sun beat down upon their heavy mail made the king thankful it was a habit he had maintained. Even though it was relatively cool for a day in mid-Flamerule, any sun hammering on an armored body could be brutal.