It was already late in the evening, and the sun had just begun to set, casting a blood orange glow across the sky. The half-shrouded light reflected on the puddles and streams in their path, interrupted by a train of young soldiers approaching the heart of the army.
Lessened of officers’ presence, the headquarters tightly sat against the hillside. Only those of the administration remained whose expertise in logistics and defence was better suited behind the frontlines. The lieutenant brought his squad towards an unimposing tent that was dyed a plain, solid red colour with a flag flying on its spire. Although there was a lack of guards, a peculiar creature, one that was rarely seen in an army, guarded the entrance of the tent. It was a great brown bear, but the colour of his fur had already faded from age, and his body was twice the size of his species, yet he had twice the softer heart. The passive creature saw little reason for aggression, and when Károly came by, he recognised him from his scent and lifted his head to sniff the archer’s legs. The boy rubbed the bear’s soft back, smiling from the feeling of his carpet-like fur, but as his squad continued onwards without him, Károly felt a gentle push come from the bear who rested his head on his hands again, giving passage to the youths.
Standing before the entryway, the squad prepared to enter when the tarp of the tent flicked aside and a titanic figure appeared from within. Lev jumped from the scare as his comrades cautiously backed away from another giant, only a hair taller than Miklós. His eyes were cold, bearing down on the squad, who gave way to the monster they had only caught a glimpse of ten days ago. But uninterested in them, he turned away and marched downhill, whistling for his companion to follow on. The bear who guarded the headquarters yawned and stood up, lazily stumbling on as the squad stared in bafflement. It took another whistle, that of the lieutenant, to summon his former cadets to earth again, gesturing for them to enter the headquarters’ tent under his guidance.
Filing into the general’s palace, which was a little more than a field office, they looked around the spacious but modest interior, which was mostly unfurnished and undecorated. As the general’s aides murmured, gathered around the elderly general, they moved chess-like pieces on an inked map, pointing and backing their words, noting their own and their comrades’ strategies. There were disagreements, but the congress of generals was more civil than the Bohemer’s. The lieutenant traced around the table in the centre of the headquarters, which was a step higher than the ground, and leaned down beside the general to inform him that the squad had arrived. For a good minute, he stood to the side while the generals continued, paying no attention to the squad behind them, who waited patiently, watching and listening intently as the general’s face tensed. Unable to make a decision, Warneńczyk sighed and dismissed his advisors. They did not question him and retreated, hoping that another session would prove more fruitful. The lieutenant and colonel were asked to stay as the general’s officers exited the meeting, eager to leave the cramped tent, as the squad saluted their commander.
Warneńczyk noticed the smell of the nine having been drowned in rain, but he did not mention it. “Soldiers. Lancers. Corporal. At ease.” As he fidgeted with a wooden figure, the general addressed them, singling out one of the band who had been recently promoted but the squad did not know of anyone of that rank, and since it could not have been their original eight, they turned to Károly, who they least expected to be their senior. “Feeling any better, Reichner?” Pushing himself away from the table, the general leaned back and slouched in his chair, asking as he rested his hands on his stomach.
“Never better, general.” Arminius spiritedly responded as he lowered his arm.
Warneńczyk nodded and turned to face his colonel, who stood alertly with hands behind his back, waiting for an order. When Florian noticed his general’s gesture being made on the table, he spun away, disappearing behind the hunk of light that centred the tent. He took an often-used mug and press from a tray and placed them on a desk repurposed as a refreshment station as he began to look for the ingredients he needed to complete his order.
The general returned to his squad and began. “I am sure you all know I did not summon you here for any pleasantries.” His voice deepened when he sank his chin onto his chest. “Know that Vasilevsky is a night’s march away, and we must stand alert and ready for the onslaught that is to come.” He openly divulged the information that would have been typically reserved for his commanders, but this general, as they have come to learn, was unlike his counterparts.433Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF1qWdATuZi
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