Fourth Vector Ch. 21

Perhaps even questioning his fitness for command.

That was why Luis' next question didn't come as any surprise.

"So, Neil, how long have you been in the army?"

"Not quite twenty years," answered Neil. "What about you?"

"Twenty-seven years and the last six as a general," said Luis. "How long have you been in command?"

Neil found it hard to keep his gaze on the man. "I was just promoted to general a week ago. This is my first major army command. Previously, I headed the garrison in Daban, but it was only two regiments."

Luis nodded quickly, almost too quickly for Neil's liking. It was almost like the man was putting together his lack of experience right from the bat, and Neil wondered where this conversation was going to lead.

Luis reached up to touch his beard. "I remember my first major command of army size. It was for drills for one of our queen's anniversaries. They put me in charge of five regiments that were to drill through Polana. I did everything I could think of to make sure it was a success. The men were trained extensively to make sure this went down without a hitch. Know what happened?"

"What's that?'

Luis cracked a smile. "It was a near disaster. Even with all that training, they still couldn't keep the pace correct. One unit went down a wrong street entirely and ended up on the other side of the city. What's worse was that all the horses managed to shit all over the street that led to the palace. I heard about that one for months afterwards."

Neil chuckled with him. "What's your point? Why are you telling me this?"

The older man put a hand on his shoulder. "I can see that you're a little tense. I could feel it coming off you as soon as you stopped over here. I'm guessing it's because it's your first major command. Am I right?'

Neil found himself nodding right away.

"You just need to relax a little, Neil. I'm sure the prospect of leading this army is a little daunting at this time, but it'll get easier. Give yourself permission to be human. Know that mistakes will happen. It's not so much about what happens under your command, but how you respond to it. Remember that, and cut yourself a little slack when you can."

Neil wiped his forward. "Am I that easy to read?"

"Maybe to me, but only because I've gone through it before. You look like someone with the world on his shoulders. Calm on the outside but screaming on the inside."

"I rather wish I wasn't just thrown into this role suddenly," Neil admitted. "Sure, being in command sounds great, but at this level, I still feel over my head."

"That feeling will pass with time, trust me," said Luis. "Every day will get easier. Your first battle will be the worst, but after that, it'll be smooth riding."

Surprisingly for himself, Neil found himself letting out a sigh of relief. "I'm glad I came over here now. Part of the reason I've been keeping to myself was my worry that someone might be able to read what I was feeling. And think that I wasn't meant to be in command of this army."

"Everyone goes through it. It's your job to accept it for what it is and move forward," advised Luis. "And after all, you have a damn fine army under your command. Along with three regiments of Carinthia's finest soldiers."

"I am impressed by the quality of your men," said Neil as he looked around. "It might be because our own are still struggling with the aftereffects of the plague, but yours seem to be well-drilled and polished."

"These are the best in the whole army," said Luis. "But I've heard about all the drilling you've been doing with your own. This campaign will help get them up to par, especially by the time we've reached Burwick. A good campaign will always bring out the best from those that can rise to the occasion, or bring out the worst in those that shouldn't be there in the first place."

Neil cracked a smile. "Which category do you think I'm in?"

"The first one, Neil. The first one," said Luis with another pat on the shoulder.

The two men spent another ten minutes talking before Luis had to excuse himself to speak with his quartermaster. Neil shook the hand of the Carinthian general before he was off, grateful for his words of wisdom. He could already tell they would have a fine working relationship.

One ally down, one to go, he thought as he came back to his own lines.

Unfortunately, if he hoped for any peace when he got back, he was soon mistaken. He was soon greeted by a familiar face, Colonel Tavish of the Fifth Regiment, and inwardly, Neil groaned.

He'd known Tavish for quite a long time—so long that Tavish was already a captain by the time that Neil entered the army as a lieutenant. Tavish was a good commander but his mouth was what usually got him in trouble. No doubt it was one of the reasons why he was still a colonel, and Neil had to guess that he would retire as colonel still.

Even if their relationship had never been particularly friendly, it was professional. That is, until Neil leapfrogged above him to take a general position that, in all rights, Tavish was next in line for. Since that day a week ago, Tavish had become increasingly difficult to work with.

Neil was no idiot. He knew the reason why, and Tavish had every right to be upset about answering to a less-experienced officer as long as it was within reason. Once it started to actually affect their professional relationship, it would have to be addressed sooner rather than later.

"Neil, what's this I hear about no camps tonight?" asked Tavish with a peevish expression. Pointedly, he forgot to salute and he forgot to use Neil's official title. For the sake of the moment, Neil let it slide.

"There's no camps tonight because we've now spotted and engaged with the enemy," said Neil calmly, while trying to keep his confidence. "I want the men to keep their positions and dig their foxholes for their protection over the night. A more centralized camp keeps us vulnerable."

Tavish scoffed. "We ran into one measly patrol of Swabians sixty miles from Burwick. That's hardly a good reason to cut out the camps."

"That's just what we saw, Colonel," said Neil, hoping that the reminder of Tavish's official rank would rein him in. "These woods could be swarming with Swabians, and we might not know it until they pushed through an attack."

Tavish crossed his arms in front of his chests. "The scouts would let us know long before that happened."

"Regardless, I won't let this army be caught with its pants down," said Neil firmly. "The order stays."

Neil watched as a range of expressions played on Tavish's face before he dared to utter a response. "This is no way to run an army, Neil."

Tavish didn't wait for a response. Instead, he turned heel and marched back to his regiment, leaving Neil feeling both anxious and irritated. The calmness that had come from Luis' words of wisdom had already evaporated, ensuring that he was once again back at square one.

How the hell am I supposed to run this army if my officers don't even respect me?

It was a question that played over again in his mind all afternoon.

*****

That evening, Neil slipped deep behind the front lines to where Aedan made his headquarters. This far away from the front, the King of Picardy had his own tent and personal quarters, a luxury not shared by the rest of the common troops.

There wasn't much activity in the king's tent when Neil arrived, and he made his presence known to the guard out front right away. Before long, he was shown into the king's personal quarters.

He found Aedan scribbling away at something on a makeshift desk, his own dinner growing cold not too far away. The king appeared to be deep in concentration, and Neil waited patiently for him to wrap up whatever was in front of him.

"There, that's perfect," muttered Aedan as he then turned to look up at him. "Neil, what brings you to my tent this evening? Is all well?"

Neil pursed his lips briefly, unable to hide his true feelings. "All is . . . all right, I suppose," he said vaguely.

The smile dropped off of Aedan's face. "What's wrong, Neil? I've known you long enough to know that something is up. What's on your mind?"

"Truthfully, sire? It's the men. And the command."

"What of them? Is there a problem?"

Neil opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. He closed it once that became apparent, but unfortunately, he still had no easy way of explaining his problem.

"Neil, I don't usually see you speechless," said Aedan finally. "This has to be something major I would think. Is something wrong with the army?"

"No, the army is fine," said Neil before he actually managed to get out the crux of the matter. "It's just the leadership on top that I doubt."

Aedan raised an eyebrow. "You mean me?"

"No, I mean me," said Neil finally. "I'm struggling to understand why you picked me to lead this army. It's not because I don't think I'm capable, but more because this is a really great undertaking for someone so newly promoted. Up until last week, I was just worried about the two Daban guard regiments, and I'm still not even fully healed from that command." Neal pulled up part of his uniform where his bandaged wound from the battle was still present. "Now I'm coordinating the movement of an army of three countries to retake the other half of the country. I just don't know if this is the right thing for me."

Neil shut his mouth, having said the words he most feared to say. That particular statement could have cost him his command, but he felt he owed it to the king to be upfront and honest about the task in front of him. He wondered if he would immediately be reassigned to lead another regiment while one of the other generals took over. Perhaps even Tavish, but that would require a promotion to do so. Even still, at least it would clear up the animosity between them.

To his surprise, Aedan smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Do you know why I picked you to command this army, Neil?"

Neil took a deep breath. "No, sire."

"How long have you commanded the Daban regiments?"

"Five years, sire. So long that I could've done the job in my sleep," he answered honestly.

"Exactly," said Neil with a chuckle. "And you did the job well. Back then, everyone used to have the utmost respect for Colonel Fagan and the way he did his business. Even me. You and your men accorded themselves well during the fight for the capital city, and I thought it was high time you were promoted."

"I don't doubt the promotion, sire. Far from it. I just wonder if there's not another general with more experience that can lead the army," said Neil as he turned away from the desk. "I don't feel like I'm getting the respect of my officers, and I feel like I still have a lot to learn."

"But you will learn it, Neil," said Aedan quickly. "I have no doubts about it. You're a quick learner, and you're also professional enough to admit when you're a little out of your depth, like you are right now. I'd rather have a man like you in command a thousand times over rather than someone who will bluster their way through something they don't understand and get people killed."

Neil managed a small smile. "Wouldn't I do it too since I am admittedly out of my depth?"

Aedan shook his head. "Why do you think I asked you to go meet your fellow commanders in the allied armies today?"

Neil pursed his lips. "Because I haven't yet?"

"That's besides the point," said Aedan quickly. "I wanted you to meet them because they have many years of experience in command. I'm told that Carinthian general is particularly sharp."

"He is. I met him this afternoon, and even within ten minutes, he'd managed to impress me."

"See? Exactly what I mean," said Aedan with a small grin. "Take the time to meet the two Javans tonight. Lt. Colonel Greg Vaughn and Major Dustin Culver. I know, I know, you outrank them considerably, but I've found the both of them to be excellent leaders so far. Their aid and advice is only going to make you better."

"So you still want to keep me in command?" asked Neil hesitantly.

"If anything, this talk has showed me that I made the right choice," said Aedan. "Neil, I'm not asking for a super general that never makes mistakes. What I'm asking for is someone willing to learn what it takes to be a true commander of men. Many of my older generals are too complacent or they forgot what it meant to be a more junior officer. I wanted you in charge because you so recently came up the ranks, and there's no officer I trust more in this army. You have the abilities and the intelligence. You just need the experience."

Aedan came out from around his desk and put his hands on Neil's shoulders. "We're going to get you that experience."

Neil nodded slowly, understanding a little more of what the king was trying to say. It made him feel slightly better even if it didn't take out the hollow feeling in the pit of his chest.

"I can handle the men no problem," he said finally. "But what about the officers? Those that won't respect my orders?"

"Then you'll have to win their respect," said Aedan. "Just like you would any other way. I'm not going to mince words here, Neil. You have your work cut out for you in the coming days. But I find you to be the best suited to take this role on. Make sure you go see the Javans and spend more time with General Barca. I'm sure the answer to those questions will appear in time."

Aedan tapped his shoulder one more time. "Now go get some sleep, Neil. You're going to need it in the coming days."

"Thank you, sire. I appreciate your words just now. All of them."

Aedan returned to behind his desk. "I hope it puts things into perspective."

"It does," Neil replied. "I'm not going to promise you that I won't make mistakes."

"Good, because I would call you a liar," shot back Aedan with a grin.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said Neil finally as he headed for the entrance of the tent.

"Good luck, Neil," said Aedan with one last look.

Neil made his way to his own tent, a much smaller affair that was barely more than a covering for his cot. It was already dark above his head, and as he rested his helmet on the ground beneath him, he laid back to look up at the top of the tent.

This is going to be one interesting campaign, he thought to himself.I just hope I can prove the king's faith in me.

Or better yet, gain the respect of the men.

*****

On the other side of Picardy, Magda Bulow watched her transport ship pull against the docks of the Picard city of Zarah. She was most anxious to get off the ship, not because of seasickness like that fool Adalbert, but because she wanted to get moving. It wasn't often that Lord Avila gave second chances, but she was determined not to waste hers.

As she thought of Adalbert, Magda's face turned to a scowl. He was a lucky fool if anything, benefiting entirely by his last name, and she considered it no coincidence that her previous operation started to go to shit once he arrived. She spent the greater part of the sea journey away from him, not wanting to see the sight of his face or that dreadful thin mustache he wore on his upper lip.

As soon as the ship docked, Magda grabbed her things and made for the gangplank. Even before her feet were on firm ground, she could already see ranks of Swabian soldiers marching around the city. Based on her knowledge, there were already six regiments located in the city, and Lord Avila had promised her more. It was a terrific position to contest the rest of the country, and with the Picards very weakened from the plague, she looked forward to having a springboard to once again retake the capital city of Daban.

"It's about time we've landed! I've been puking my guts up for the last week!"

Magda jumped at the sound of Adalbert's voice appearing at her side. Her earlier scowl grew deeper.

"Thankfully for all of us, this ship has arrived in Picardy. And I can continue my task," she said stiffly, turning her attention away from him.

"Don't you mean our tasks?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Magda shook her head fiercely. "No, I most certainly do not. I meanmy task. I think your cousin was very clear about what we need to do, and it's not even in the same league."

"Still though, I thought I might stay in Zarah for a few days just to get my bearings," said Adalbert. "Who knows where Easterbrook is? He may not even be in the country anymore."

"I very much doubt that, and you know as well as I do that he's probably still in Daban," said Magda before she hurriedly pushed him against the wall and poked her finger in his chest. "But that's not my concern right now and guess what? Neither are you! I don't want you to stay in Zarah."

Adalbert made a confused face. "Why not?"

She struggled not to laugh but failed. "Because trouble follows you wherever you go! Look what you did to the Daban operation! And that's not even mentioning Andalucia. You're nothing but trouble, and I intend to make the most of my second chance. I don't want to see you in Zarah after today. If I do see you, I'll give orders to my men to kill you on sight."

Adalbert's eyes went wide. "Kill me? For what reason!"

Her eyes narrowed. "Because I'm not going to let you fuck this up for me! Not again!" She jammed her finger in his chest for good measure before she turned to exit the ship. As her feet hit the docks, she couldn't help but smile. Something about telling him off felt good. Although she knew she couldn't really execute the cousin of Lord Avila, Adalbert's reaction didn't seem to indicate that he knew she was bluffing.

Let the poor fool be scared of me. He should be, she thought as she made her way to Swabian army headquarters.At least he'll be more likely to stay out of my way.

Magda moved quickly through the city, looking for the city palace that had been requisitioned for the Swabian presence. She found it easily with the instructions given to her, an old summer palace of the Picard royalty that had been converted to their headquarters. Once inside, she set about finding a place for her own lodging.

A few hours later, once she had been significantly settled into her new quarters, Magda called a meeting of the regiment leaders for that afternoon. The majority of them were colonels at this level, and up until this point, there were no other senior officers there to lead them. She'd been briefed that one of colonels with the most seniority was the one in unofficial command, but that would now change with her arrival.

She was taking control of Lord Avila's army in Picardy, a much more dangerous force than the one that was dropped off in Daban weeks ago. They had the advantage of being dug into the country, having firm defensive positions where they wouldn't be so easily removed.

They also didn't have to deal with the farce of working with Picards any longer. Quite the opposite, as all the soldiers had orders to shoot any Picards in army uniforms on sight.

Swabia was here to stay.

After all the colonels had arrived, Magda entered the meeting room to find them assembled on one side of a long, elegant table. Most of them looked at her with unflinching gazes. A few of them even had the audacity to look at her body, a common experience for her no matter where she went. Those few would be the ones she would enjoy breaking the most.

"Gentlemen, I'm Magda Bulow," she said while sweeping her gaze to each man in the room. "Lord Avila has commanded that I be put in charge of all of you."

"And what gives you the right to command us?" asked one of the colonels, a dense-looking fellow with jet black hair and a haughty expression.

I think I've found the colonel in charge, she thought to herself.

Magda turned on the honey. "Why, your lord has commanded it. That's why I'm in charge," she said with a toothless smile.