Post by James Holt (NT) on Dec 21, 2017 0:33:31 GMT
It was a strange sight to James Holt. He had frequently attended tournaments - from the comfort of the nobles seating, of course - and had a very firm image in his mind of what knights were. Shining armour; gilded decorations; long pennants dyed in bright colours; feathers and striped lances. Kite shields with fanciful animals painted on them. The spectacle was nowhere to be seen on the fields below. Sure, there were men in armour. On horses. Thousands of them. But their armour was unadorned. Blackened chainmail under blackened breastplates. Flat planes and hard edges rather than rounded or fitted to the bodys contours. They carried axes on long shafts with spear tips on top. They rode in formation, visors down, under black pennants with three golden circles. The sight was impressive, but it still seemed nothing like what he had told himself knights were supposed to look like. He glanced towards his lieutenant. She had elected to wear her piecemeal plate mail for the inspection - scrounged over the years from trophies of slain foes. Her eyes shone with the same light he had seen when she was planning a raid to discourage bandits when Holt was still actively involved in the caravan business. She was obviously pleased with what she saw.
"I expected more... spectacle", Holt ventured. In Lothian, since everyone present in the observation tower had been part of the operation for years.
"We leave spectacle for the southerners", his lieutenant replied in the same language. "This is something altogether grander. Every man has the same gear. Built to the same specifications. Easy to assemble. Easy to repair. Any craftsman in Albion can fashion replacements for broken gear using guild specifications. Any flaws in construction will be readily visible and impossible to hide under gaudy decoration. The supply train has spares of everything, and everyone has drilled to maintain and use the same gear in an efficient manner. It is the only way you could field this many men without spiraling expenses."
"I see. But... black? I gave you free reign. To be honest, I had expected greens from you."
"Black dye was cheap to produce. It'll protect against corrosion. You wanted costs kept reasonable."
Holt nodded. It made sense. This was why he employed bureaucrats. "And these will equal the finest knights available to any realm in combat?"
"Close enough as should make no difference. The equipment is well made. Everyone knows how to train and lead the people under them, which should make commands on the field of battle simpler to carry out. This is an army built to thrive in the chaos of battle - not to look pretty parading through city gates. What they lack in experience they make up for in sheer weight of numbers. I almost pity our enemies. Their first charge will be glorious".
"I am depending on it, field marshal."
She seemed amused. "Field marshal? I thought I was still playing guildmistress to the elves?"
Holt shrugged. "I read your report. I am confident the assistents you chose can run the elven traders in your absence. Although we may need an elven general for the wardens. Thoughts?"
The grumbling of the elves in Umbria had been a surprise. And an unwelcome one coupled with Glendall's recent decree limiting the musters. The elves were almost as fiercely against being led by humans as the Bayardians were against several hundred archers drilling near Aelven Trader enclaves. The army was more likely to cause aggressors than deter them at this rate. McLarnon seemed lost in thought, but evenually responded.
"I've a few candidates in mind. Veterans from Hibernia mostly. I'll have to ask around to see if they will be loyal to you. Are we marching to war?"
"Not yet, Kelly." Holt smiled fondly at his adoptive daughter. "But soon perhaps. It would be a shame not to find paying work for these fine young men. I'll have to sweet talk the nobles first, but give it time. For now, focus on finding a reliable second and drilling defensive formations. I know how you detest garrison duty, but it makes the peasants feel safe and gives us leverage in negotiations. I will be expecting a report on suitable candidates."
Below them, thousands of men rode past in formation. Faceless ranks of steel men under black banners.
"I expected more... spectacle", Holt ventured. In Lothian, since everyone present in the observation tower had been part of the operation for years.
"We leave spectacle for the southerners", his lieutenant replied in the same language. "This is something altogether grander. Every man has the same gear. Built to the same specifications. Easy to assemble. Easy to repair. Any craftsman in Albion can fashion replacements for broken gear using guild specifications. Any flaws in construction will be readily visible and impossible to hide under gaudy decoration. The supply train has spares of everything, and everyone has drilled to maintain and use the same gear in an efficient manner. It is the only way you could field this many men without spiraling expenses."
"I see. But... black? I gave you free reign. To be honest, I had expected greens from you."
"Black dye was cheap to produce. It'll protect against corrosion. You wanted costs kept reasonable."
Holt nodded. It made sense. This was why he employed bureaucrats. "And these will equal the finest knights available to any realm in combat?"
"Close enough as should make no difference. The equipment is well made. Everyone knows how to train and lead the people under them, which should make commands on the field of battle simpler to carry out. This is an army built to thrive in the chaos of battle - not to look pretty parading through city gates. What they lack in experience they make up for in sheer weight of numbers. I almost pity our enemies. Their first charge will be glorious".
"I am depending on it, field marshal."
She seemed amused. "Field marshal? I thought I was still playing guildmistress to the elves?"
Holt shrugged. "I read your report. I am confident the assistents you chose can run the elven traders in your absence. Although we may need an elven general for the wardens. Thoughts?"
The grumbling of the elves in Umbria had been a surprise. And an unwelcome one coupled with Glendall's recent decree limiting the musters. The elves were almost as fiercely against being led by humans as the Bayardians were against several hundred archers drilling near Aelven Trader enclaves. The army was more likely to cause aggressors than deter them at this rate. McLarnon seemed lost in thought, but evenually responded.
"I've a few candidates in mind. Veterans from Hibernia mostly. I'll have to ask around to see if they will be loyal to you. Are we marching to war?"
"Not yet, Kelly." Holt smiled fondly at his adoptive daughter. "But soon perhaps. It would be a shame not to find paying work for these fine young men. I'll have to sweet talk the nobles first, but give it time. For now, focus on finding a reliable second and drilling defensive formations. I know how you detest garrison duty, but it makes the peasants feel safe and gives us leverage in negotiations. I will be expecting a report on suitable candidates."
Below them, thousands of men rode past in formation. Faceless ranks of steel men under black banners.