Tiral nodded his head in response to the captain's affirmation. Thankfully, these bandits had been complete idiots in trying to run straight back to their base after being captured, else his reaffirmation might have made himself look a bit foolish. In the end, it was a matter of perspective, but... Well, at least it had pulled the captain out of her anger. A clouded mind in combat was suicidal; even he, young as he was, knew that well.

The captain continued, detailing her strategy for the assault on the camp, which Tiral himself wasn't all too surprised by. A four-pronged attack was quite workable, but it did still spread their forces a bit thin. Granted, if the enemy was anything like the bandits that had just been dispatched, then...

Well, if anything, it'd get the job done faster.

Tiral closed his eyes and nodded his head as the captain directed the leaders of each group. The captain, as expected, would take the front. Fitting, but not all too unexpected.

The side flanks would be taken by the two veterans, which gave Tiral a chance to relax a bit. Regardless of the immortal knight's current state of affairs, it would be hard to argue that she wasn't among the most venerable of them all. The other, Sir Aethelmund, was also someone that the mage had predicted would be chosen; after all, his own actions weren't the least bit unknown to the Order. A small smile crept its way onto the mage's face; at this rate, the bandits would probably be dispatched posthaste.

It took a moment, though, for him to remember that this was supposed to be a four-pronged attack and that the captain had only dictated three leaders. But then who was the fourth...?

"... Sir Tiral, you will lead the fourth, which will advance from behind."

...
Oh.

A few beads of sweat seemed to form on Tiral's brow as he processed the captain's words.

He was to lead the fourth squadron.
Him.
Why him?! If there was anyone he had expected to lead the final group, it was probably Sir Garrett! At least the man had more experience! Was this what the mercenaries of his youth called 'a trial by fire'? Because it sure as hell seemed like one.

Though the battle just now had felt like nothing but a warm-up to Tiral, his initial plan to use the whole ordeal as a test to himself was now thrown completely out the window. Had the Captain picked up on his musings earlier? If that was the case, then maybe he'd have to learn to keep his thoughts to himself in the future. Rather than testing his own strength, it was more like the captain was testing him now. Her eyes were on him, which meant that everyone else's would be, too.

Before he could protest and offer up the one who he thought was a more fitting leader, the Captain had already taken to sending everyone off to their respective posts. Tiral stopped himself from letting out a defeated sigh, though just barely; there was no point in arguing now, after all.

"Understood," Tiral said, nodding in response before turning to the knights who had grouped up behind him. Their gazes seemed to look upon him with uncertainty, to which the mage could only respond with a nervous smile.

Damn, even if this was only a fraction of what the Captain faced... Something like this would surely unnerve him. She certainly had it rough, didn't she...? He would keep this in mind for the future. But he had no time to settle his thoughts; as the order was, he had to get into position. Fast.

"As the captain has stated, I shall lead the engagement from behind the enemy encampment. Quickly, now, so our mission can be completed without issue."

With that brief statement, Tiral quickly saluted the captain and the other two leaders before beginning to move through the brush towards their destination, the knights behind him following close behind.

This sort of responsibility... Certainly wasn't what he was used to. At all.

Tyaethe was very much displeased at being separated from the captain, though you wouldn't have been able to tell it from looking at her; the only clue was a shifting of her eyes that indicated a suppressed frown. The undead knight hated being separated from captains. After all, none had ever been fatally injured whilst Tyaethe had been beside them. There was something to be said about the protection someone nigh impossible to kill could provide, particularly one as imposing as her.

She wasn't going to outright disobey the captain. Not today. Her other choices were good ones--Eadwig knew what he was doing and now was the best time to start giving newcomers a little leadership experience. Crucially, Fanilly's choice wasn't someone already questioning her actions. It would be a terrible idea to start giving their opinions legitimacy as there were too few knights to permit internal divisions.

The undead pulled her blade free from the earth and set forwards, following Tiral towards the left. They may as well keep roughly together until she was in position, in case bandits came out in this direction for any possible reason.

"Anyone with a shield, hold it in your right hand and get on the right. If they somehow spot us coming and send out archers, I don't want our whole flank to be wide open," Tyaethe ordered, lifting her own arm as an indication. Of course, that was where her shield was normally, but it was actually relevant if circling clockwise.

The spear, of course, was still firmly lodged through her stomach. Removing it would just leave a pair of holes in her armour until nightfall... and you never knew when a thrown weapon could come in handy.

Marianne Delacroix

Walking out of earshot of Squire Rolain, robbing him of his opportunity to argue any further, Marianne regrouped with Captain Fanilly and a majority of the other Iron Roses. Arriving just in time to hear of the Captain's battle plan. It simple enough, easy to follow and effective. Surround the bandit camp once it was located and close in for the kill. Though, there were some concerns she had. Namely, potential allied forces getting caught in some chaotic crossfire. There was also the fact that some people were at their most dangerous when cornered. If the bandits became fearful enough, they may act with reckless abandon and unpredictability which could create unnecessary casualties. What did the princess know, however? She was no experienced battle tactician nor an experienced leader of troops. She would bring up her concerns with whomever she decided to ride with.

Hearing the first three picks for platoon leaders, Marianne nodded her head in agreement. However, when it was made known that for one reason or another Sir Tiral was to lead the fourth and final platoon of men, Marianne couldn't help but question it. Taking no offense at not having been picked herself, she wondered why not Sir Garrett, Dame Tarrya, or Dame Juliana? They appeared to be far more experienced than Sir Tiral, meaning the fellow knight no insult. Even still, she had her reasons, and Marianne dared not question her Captain. Upon the thought of Sir Garrett, she absently wondered what platoon he would decide to ride with, looking over to him silently.

Well, if they were allowed their pick, no use in dilly-dallying about. Approaching Sir Eadwig, Marianne offered a kind and warm smile to him. Politely bowing her head and curtsying to the aged Knight, she made her request to him. Wishing to learn as much as she could from the old man.

"Well then, that is that, I suppose? The decision has been made."
Turning to Captain Fanilly, she briefly asked.
"Captain? Are we allowed our own choices to make or will you be assigning Knights under their respective leaders?"
Though, not waiting for a response, she turned to Sir Eadwig. Still smiling.
"Either or, I would like to request to be placed under Sir Eadwig's care. I feel I may learn the most at his side. If that's not an issue, of course."

Rolan couldn't help but show his surprise at her rejection, a creeping sense of relief washing over him with keeping his mount, but slowly it intertwined with the guilt he felt at failing one of his knights, despite her trying to take the blame. Hesitantly he went about retying his possessions, giving a small nod in reply to his given title. "Aye, that'll do me just fine." He answered with a polite smile, running his hands through the light, course mane of his palfrey.

"If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to call on me." He added as an afterthought, looking up to see that she had already broke away from their conversation and hadn't heard a thing he had said. Well, don't I feel like a proper ass now . He thought to himself, shaking his head to forget the sorry affair, before a frown cast over his features like a shadow, the dread clear in his eyes for the action to come. With a discontent sigh Rolan put his uninjured foot into the stirrup before throwing himself over his palfrey, somewhat upsetting his mount as he almost lost his balance, hugging tight onto the horses neck just to keep his seat. A familiar shock of pain lanced up his leg accompanied by a stifled sob from Rolan, his eyes shut tightly as he remained frozen in position, his palfrey striking its hooves against the dirt in a nervous manner. "It's alright old fella, shhh... shhh, it's alright." He whispered in soothing tones, his voice mildly strained with pain as he regained his composure to calm the horse down, slowly leaning back to sit upright in the saddle and look out over his comrades.

Rolan watched as the knights and other members of the order begun forming into distinct groups behind one of four different commanders, whom must of been named by the captain whilst Rolan was out of earshot. With a gentle nudge he urged his horse toward the group, spotting Sir Eadwig his senior commander and overseer to his training, he would have approached him for advice, and possibly to voice the concerns of his own health and well being, were it not for the fact he had already been approached by none other then Dame Marianne. His cheeks burned red as the feelings of embarrassment and shame for losing her horse resurfaced and with a tug of his reigns he diverted his course to fall behind the battle mage, although mistrusting of most things magical, Rolan felt it the safest option out of the three remaining commanders. It was definitely best to avoid the captain in his injured state less he shame himself in fighting before her, and quite frankly the undead knight unnerved him to no end, especially with a spear still sheathed in her abdomen.

Carefully he lifted his grandfathers helmet, gently lowering it over his head to hide his injury and provide him with additional protection, the sound of the world grew faint and muffled beyond his metal confines, his vision becoming limited to the horizontal slit in his helm as he tied the straps beneath his chin, the worn leather running smooth beneath his fingertips. He would do his best to keep his horse during the fight to come, and avoid exposing his injured state until the day was done, silently he muttered a prayer to the gods above.

Ian trotted along the path on a borrowed horse, appearing as a human to anyone that didn't know better, with his ears furled under his hood and a cape concealing his tail. His twin shields were strapped on either side of the beast acting like armor and sticking up far enough to make it difficult to shoot or knock him off, his axe on his hip, and a crossbow with a quiver of bolts on his back, the quiver situated just above his tail under the cape.

He hadn't been able to meet up with the party initially and was now following their trail into the forest to catch up with them. when he started getting into heavier forest he stopped his horse and reached down to unstrap one of the shields, sending it clattering on the ground and startling the horse. A reassuring pet a murmuring of "easy, easy" later and he was able to take his other shield and dismount, sending the horse to find it's own way back and continuing of foot after picking up his first shield. He didn't have to go far from there to meet up with Fanilly's group where they had been ambushed, getting there just barely in time to hear her plan.

Now, still being fairly new to the order he didn't actually know who anyone was besides the captain and rather than make an ordeal of finding out who everyone was he just walked up to Fanilly, aiming to be a part of her group. "Fanilly" he used her name not out of disrespect but with a casual and friendly tone, a smile even revealing itself as he pulled down his mask "Ian Vanafir, don't think we've actually met in any capacity before, sorry for my delayed arrival" as he spoke his ears poked up, pushing his hood back as they stood, and his tail's swaying occasionally made it visibly around his cape "I hope you don't mind if I follow you in the attack" His grip shifted on his shields as he glanced across the rest of the company, they were going to attack soon so introductions would have to wait till after, or during, the battle.

Like the strange shielded man on the horse, Anton had not been part of the larger host of people. Following close by on a horse he had procured, by what means he would not reveal, and followed the fighters on foot till he arrived at what passed for their camp or meeting spot. Whichever they preferred to call it. Dismounting with ease, Teller turned his attention from the horse and onto the group. His gaze was hidden behind dull glass of his beaked mask as he examined everyone in the group. From the looks of it, the group had everything. A young lass in charge, another young lass in a plated skirt, an undead monster, and your standard caste of aggressive fighting fit soldiers. Nobody but him would know he was grinning as he readjusted his hat and rested a hand on the handle of the Kopesh sheathed at his hip.

"Apologies for my lateness, Captain. I pray nobody is in need of a doctors aid just yet?"

Standing over 6 feet with a slim body and an outlandish outfit, the doctor was easily recognizable. Though few would find him physically intimidating. A reputation for bloodshed and bandages it was easy to see where he would best fit in. Few could deny his skill on the operating table and the battlefield. Those who knew of his peculiar fighting style would notice the vials of swirling liquid on his chest and easily surmise that more was hidden up his sleeves or in the pockets of his coat. Ointments to soothe the aches and pains of war, sedatives to induce sleep, and that most heinous of poisons. No doubt his blade would hold a coat of it by the end of this.

A listless whistle filled the air as another rider entered the battlefield from the rear. Sir Iowerth, as he was formally called, had been put in charge of the rear guard for this "expedition". Or rather, this training exercise, considering the number of recruits who were still green. This was their vanguard? They may only be fighting bandits, but it seemed like a very convenient way to get the new Captain killed. Then again, considering the discontent surrounding her appointment whispered about in the ranks, it may have very well been deliberate.

He suspected, taking stock of the bodies lying around and the relative lack of injury among their own forces, that the soldiers these bandits beat were merely recruits as well. It wouldn't surprise him if the army had seen it as a training exercise, and simply bit off more than it could chew. A few lies later to save face, and suddenly it was seasoned veterans the bandits had beaten and now it was a problem for the Iron Rose.

What a pain in the ass.

While initially he was going to report directly to the Captain, she appeared to have a crowd demanding her attention. Instead, he made his way to Sir Aethlemund, trying to ignore the smell of the man that had been cut in half as he did so. This was far from the first field of battle he had been on, but that didn't mean bodies smelled like roses to him. Still, he felt no sympathy for the dead men, nor for the prisoners that were also likely to die. They had chosen their path in life, and should have no quarrel about their fate. Iolyn would just as soon kill them now, save a trip back to the city that would end in their execution anyway, but that was not his decision to make.

When he reached the grizzled veteran, Iolyn gave a nod to Phillin before leaning in close.

"Our flanks are secure, I've passed command to Sir Bernhard, we both know he could use the extra experience."

His small report finished, the man drew back to give the Captain some space. The two had already been introduced, and he had nothing of dire importance to tell her. His eyes flicked to Sir Garrett briefly, considering taking a moment to catch up with the man. They had joined only a couple years apart, and had participated in many of the same engagements together. Instead, he drew up beside Tyaethe, raising an eyebrow at the spear running through her abdomen.

"Showing off again, Lady Tyaethe? We should probably be demonstrating to these recruits how not to be stuck with weapons. You know, for educational purposes."

He was quite sure the immortal woman hated him, at least he had no reason to suspect otherwise. The thing about being hundreds of years old is that you tend to know things that happened in history. As such, Iolyn had tried to interview her at every opportunity, at least outside of the battlefield. His latest tactic had been to try and get her to relax with a game of chess, which he had heard the woman knew how to play, but his efforts so far had been fruitless. Whether that was because she simply never relaxed, or avoided him, was something he had yet to find out.

@Raineh Daze@Zebanamana@Themerlinhawk

--

Gillian eyed the young captain from his seat on one of the supply wagons, mild irritation only thinly veiled. “She is very much the beauty, no?” Klien asked next to him, voice tittering with no small amount of pride. Klien was a short, chubby man of a ruddy complexion who was cheerful to the point of excess, who made no small secret of his joy to work with the Knights of the Iron Rose. A friend of Gillian’s from his youth, having aided the elder man in various escort missions while under Parnella. It was him who had told the knight of the expedition and brought him aboard as a guard for the supply wagon. Neither man were expecting the trip to yield much beyond long talks on the slow march. …well, Klien talked, Gillian brooded.

“…for a child twenty years your junior, yes.” Gillian huffed, suitably unimpressed. Klien bristled, his vicarious pride wounded. “Come now!” he retorted, “You were no older when you began your days under Seigward! That’s reason enough to trust her leadership, even without the fates backing her right to the rank!”
“As a squire, not a knight.” Gillian reminds his friend curtly. “Never once have I held a position of command in the four years I served in that station nor in the four years hence my acceptance into the order proper. And thank Mayon’s breasts that it was so, given the fool decisions of children.“

Klien gives up at that, refusing to have his mood soured by his brooding companion. He returns his gaze back to the Captain and her associates. “…Care to make a wager?” the elder asks. “…I had thought you’d ceased that habit.” Gillian says, watching as Fanilly gives her orders to Eadwig, Radastirin, and a brown haired young man who he did not recognize. “Only for pleasure. This is a matter of duty!” the older man says, his ringing with enthusiasm. “Half the wages this campaign that the captain can prove she is worthy of her rank.”
Gillian snorts, watching as the forces begin to slowly shift into four teams, likely for an all sides attack. “Were there the opportunity. My job is to guard you and your wagon, remember. Here. In the back. Away from her commands or much the battle.”

“There are other guards.” Klien retorts. “Go join her charge. If nothing else, you will be right and all the richer for it.” Gillian thinks for a moment before hopping off the cart. “Very well. But if I have but a single doubt of the girl, you lose. Agreed?” he says as he adjusts his gear and pulls his spear from the back of the wagon. “Agreed!” Klien chirps, waving as his friend walks away.

As he approaches a man with an air that made Gillian uneasy approached the young maiden. "Apologies for my lateness, Captain. I pray nobody is in need of a doctors aid just yet?" He pauses for a moment, examining the still gored banditry not far away. “….I believe a few of them may have wished to have a word with you.” He says, taking a position behind the man and a hooded knight whose posterior was…strangely waggy. He gives a half hearted salute to Fanilly. "Gillian Raynaud, at your service Captain Danbalion"

Julianna watched as a few more people showed up and then started to disperse into their respective groups to take over the bandit camp. The Iron Rose Knights certainly had become an interesting lot over the years she could not help but think, especially after seeing the doctor head over to the captain.

Now of some interest to Julianna was Hundi, Ian Vanafir, partially because it was rare for a non-human to be in the Iron Rose Knights, secondly, because of his unique method of fighting using two tower shields. It was quite impressive for someone to take using shields even further than most Mayron Paladins did and as a fellow shield user it was fascinating to see, that being said using two shield would weigh her down too much so she would stick to her more standard equipment.

The young captain had split the team into four groups and made a temporary commander of each of them. Of course she had not been given such a position even though she had a firm grasp of tactics and command. The green captain was leading the first group, then there was Sir Tyaethe, which made sense considering she had the most experience, Sir Aethelmund, a respectable man and veteran, then for some reason Sir Tiral.

Julianna was surprised at the choice, the knight was talented for sure with his magical abilities and all but as far as she knew he was not exactly one versed in command or tactics.

As time was now of the essence Julianna bit her tongue to stop herself from protesting. Then she thought to herself, "If I had been in charge I would have split our forces into three groups. Two would go to the sides to create a pincer maneuver while the third would go to the back to cut off the bandits chance of escape. Having one less group would make coordinating much easier, plus if one group accidentally stumbles into the camp they would have more forces to work with until the other two could arrive, also encirclement can take too much time and keeping to a more simple formation allows for more quick and decisive action. Since we already dealt with that ambush there is a higher chance the enemy could catch on to our movements as well. Well if its like this my best option would be to join Sir Tiral."

Her mind made up, Julianna joined with Sir Tiral's growing group. The reason she did was because their group would complete the encirclement and it would be their job to prevent anyone from escaping. They had to move quickly though. She walked over to Sir Tiral and could not help but think this command should have been her's, but she kept that from showing on her personage.

"Sir Tiral, let's make sure none of them escape. We should proceed with as much haste and stealth as possible." She gave a quick nod toward him as a sign of respect, even if she didn't feel like it, and readied herself to get going. She was not about to let this mission fail.

Sir Garrett wished he could see the look on Tyaethe’s face as it would have been priceless. Sir Garrett watched her take her group of Knights leading them away from Fanilly. The choice of Sir Tiral was absolutely a poor one but Sir Garrett didn’t mind, it meant he could do his damn job without worry about commanding green knights. With a heavy he resettled his warmaul on his shoulder and approached Fanilly. “If it’s all the same to you Captain I’ll let the vets go with the others and stick with you. Best to have a big person to make the enemy aim at.”

Turning to see Iowerth; Sir Garrett flashed a grin at the Knight. It had been such a long time since the two of them had been on campaign together. No surprise to see him go with Sir Aethlemund really. Given the choice he’d have gone too, but it looked like the others had spread out leaving him with Fanilly. Not the worst thing ever given that Tarrya was already in the woods hopefully in a position to help with the ambush. With a short wave of his shield Sir Garrett made sure Iowerth could see him.

As he waved the mountain of a man caught the eye of Marianne and flashed her a reassuring half smile as she decided to go with Sir Aethlemund; and for good reason too. Nodding Sir Garrett gave her another smile. Settling in next to Fanilly he let his warmaul slide to the hilt before he let it drop to the ground allowing the leather strap on the end of it to hang from his wrist. Stretching towards his left he pulled on the weight and popped his shoulder.

An old injury in the shoulder bothered him from time to time usually after combat. It wasn’t really anything that prevented him from doing his job but it was uncomfortable to say the least. Rolling his neck he looked over the group of Knights slowly. This should be rather interesting to say the least.

@Snagglepuss89@harinezumikouken

Fanilly had solid faith in her first two choices, and hope that her third had been wise as well. Even though Tiral seemed uncertain, he had shown intelligence and strategic application thereof in the battle utilizing his ice powers. As she hoped to prove herself, she hoped the ice mage would prove himself. For the moment, however, she had her own division of the knights to leave. And, of course, others had spoken to her as well.

"I was planning on allowing you to split yourselves based on your preference and the advisement of the leaders I've assigned," she explained at Marianne's question, "I am certain you will serve well at Sir Eadwig's side.

Allowing herself to relax a little, she gave the older girl a small smile, before turning to... a new arrival? Ah, that's right, certain knights had been forced to take a slower route... he was only a little taller than herself, and the blonde girl was surprised when she saw furred ears and a doglike tail. That must have meant he was a hundi! For a few moments, an expression of excitement made its way onto Fanilly's face. She'd never met a hundi before! She'd heard stories of their noble conduct in battle, of their coming of age journeys... realizing how she must look, Fanilly flushed in embarrassment and took a deep breath before continuing.

"Ah. Yes," she began, "Er, you will be very valuable in the upcoming attack, thank you. Take a position at the front, as we will be using our shielded knights to defend the others in the upcoming charge."

She took another deep breath, only to have one of the others approach her. This one... that tall, thin frame and beaked masked were admittedly disconcerting, but Fanilly reminded herself with an admonishing tone that he meant no harm. Those with magic were not always able attend to the injured, and therefore the assistance of a medical expert such as himself was quite valued.

"No, I think not, thankfully," the small blonde replied, glancing over the Iron Roses once more. Admittedly it was not as if she was able to make a proper investigation, but she believed no serious injury had occurred. The poor farmer who had been so callously used as bait was currently already being tended to, thank the moonlight.

Ah... another she recognized, though not so well. Gillian, Fanilly recalled. He was the dedicated sort for certain. The young girl gave him a nod.

"Thank you, Sir Gillian."

With a nod to Sir Garret, Fanilly swiftly addressed her division as a whole.

"It's time to move out!" she called. "Shielded knights in front, archers at the back. If they spot us before we can attack, form a defensive wall and fire a volley of arrows into the camp!"

Fanilly heart wavered. Was she making the right decisions?

As she began to move out with her knights, the young girl realized that she'd only know once the fighting began. For now...

These bandits had killed the innocent without mercy. And so, they would taste the blades of Iron Roses.

Eadwig wheeled his horse about as Captain Fanilly gave her orders. The bulk of the main had followed behind the elder knight in short order, and they were quickly relegated to new commanding officers.

“Sir Luthor, take ten mounted men and ride with Sir Tiral,” Sir Aethelmund commanded. The young mage was green to command, but at some point all people were. The grayed soldier wrung his wrist as the men around him sorted themselves, some to Tyaethe who could hold her own, some to Tiral whom would need all the support he could have, then many to Fanilly.

“The Sun and Moon watch over you Captain,” Aethelmund rode swiftly to Tiral before he vanished into the brush, “Hold fast your lines Sir Tiral. Keep cavalry on your wings and a strong reserve. I will hold until you have drawn their forces, blow a horn and I will send my cavalry into a secondary encirclement.”

Philin was raising high the banner of the Iron Rose upon a pike, below it waving on dyed wool was the personal arms of Eadwig, a glowing candle flanked by honey bees on a field of blue. To him, Marianne came. A noble girl of knightly heritage. He glared down at her for a moment. She was headstrong during drills when she had first joined the Order, but she seemed dedicated to her oaths and the promises of chivalry. All well and good, should she not get herself killed. Eadwig thought with a grimace.

“Dame Delacroix find yourself a horse or a pike, we have enough for you,” He said not unkindly and gesturing to the supply wagons where spears and pikes were being carried, and spare palfreys were held in reserve. “If you wish to learn, take a horse and be at my side.” Eadwig turned to the approaching Iowerth.

“Our flanks are secure, I’ve passed command to Sir Bernhard, we both know he could use the extra experience,” the younger man informed him. He was only a young man in respect to Eadwig and Tyaethe. To much of the vanguard, Iowerth was a decade older or more than the majority of them and he stood as a figure of wisdom and stoicism.

“Excellent, he is to command my reserve troop then.” Sir Aethelmund urged his troop forward allowing the mounted knights to take head and tail of the fast moving column. He gave a last look back to Iowerth, “Try to listen to Sir Tyaethe’s orders without asking about two hundred years of crop rotation history.”

The knights were making quick pace through the undergrowth. The scent of dark smoke was more distinguished the deeper the delved. The air tasted moist, and sweat was beginning to cling to Eadwig’s brow. The men and women before and behind him were a motley of colors and armors, but he had made it absolutely clear that the bulk of the line would be wielding pikes and shields for cohesion in battle. He had been on fields of battle against unorganized levies and crushed them. He had been on fields of battle against unorganized knights and seen their plate hewn apart by halberdiers and rained upon by volleys of bodkin rain. He had seen scores of Iron Rose knights killed on the field during Phoran Cal’s swiftly defeated rebellion. Eadwig had watched the previous captain sustain injury after injury in her duel against Phoran Cal.

His lip quivered for just a moment and he exhaled lifting himself straight in his saddle. Men and women will die in battle. It is the way it is, no matter what is done to prevent it.

“Philin.” Sir Aethelmund awoke from a stupor of thought.

“Yes Sir?” The dusty haired youth’s eyes were wide.

“Take charge of the outriders. Keep our flanks informed, tell us of the terrain.” Sir Aethelmund commanded, “Onward.”

“Yes Sir,” The scout handed off the banner to another knight and rode off quickly through the dense brush.

The elder knight looked to Marianne and raised his helmet to the crown of his head, “People will die.” He said grimly, “That ambush earlier was nothing compared to what we do next, and even that is nothing. It is a brutal affair. Battle is not noble in nature, us knights just try and make it so, but don’t get killed by trying to play fair Delacroix.” Aethelmund’s eyes steeled looking at Marianne, “This will be bloody for both our sides, and there will be terrible injuries that you will see inflicted, and that you yourself will inflict. Remember that chivalry comes after the battle, and after you have survived.”

After ten minutes of forced march, an outrider informed them that they had arrived in their position for the attack. The area was densely wooded, but the undergrowth had thinned for lack of sunlight and space. The trees grew tight together like pillars holding up a green vaulted ceiling, but between them mounted knights could still charge in loose formation. “The slope gives us an advantage,” Eadwig pointed out to Marianne as the soldiers moved into position. “Our cavalry will have momentum behind them when they charge, and our archers will better be able to fire down onto the bandits. The enemies will have to arc their shots and most of their arrows will be lost in the branches,” he pointed above, “They too will have trouble hiding from our shots.”

The knights fanned out in preparation. Unmounted pike men with shields stood in three units a single rank deep, the archers stood in front of them in a loose formation and were prepared to harass the bandits in the early stages of the fight before retreating behind the pikes. On the sides were two units of cavalry and in the rear was a smaller band of cavalry and infantry. From the reserve line Eadwig turned over to Marianne and offered a smile, “I realize that you have a strong sense of chivalric duty, and I do not wish to discourage that. You have a good heart. I want you to command the right flank of cavalry. You will flank the bandits attacking Sir Tiral’s forces when the signal is given, that way you will be aiding your companions instead of charging full into a slaughter.” Eadwig pointed over at the dozen mounted knights, “Take them into the flank of the bandits attacking Sir Tiral and roll up their side. I will leave our right open after that to allow their survivors to retreat, and our reserves will make them lay down their arms. The rest of the knights will push forward under my command, when you have done your duty wheel back around to rejoin our push.”

Sir Bernhard was listening intently as well from his command in the reserves, the young knight seemed eager to fight.

Sir Aethelmund spurred his horse forward to his line of pike men and awaited word from the scouts that battle had been engaged.

@harinezumikouken @PKMNB0Y @Snagglepuss89

Marianne Delacroix

Marianne's attention faltered a bit, as when she looked up her eyes met Sir Garrett's and she became... lost. For some odd reason, the man smiled at her which took her by surprise. What was the purpose for the smiling? Getting flustered, she averted her eyes and paid him no further attention for the moment as she absently looked over her gear. 'Checking' it. Her attention returned when Sir Eadwig began to speak to her, giving her basic recommendations and orders at first. Looking up at the old man, she smiled and nodded silently. Doing as she was told by the grizzled veteran, she moved to the supply wagons and restocked her quiver of arrows. Looking at the store of pikes and spears, Marianne frowned. She never foresaw herself needing to bear and wield such a weapon, much less use it. But, she couldn't allow herself to restrict her abilities to simply a bow and sword. Grabbing a pike, she walked over to select a palfrey to ride into battle. Making sure to approach the creature from the front and gently caress the creature's snout and side to let her intentions be made clear. The beast accepted her and she had her chosen steed.

Having already made her decision to learn from Sir Eadwig, she quickly joined him at his side with pike in arm. Glancing over to Sir Garrett, she took note of the group of knights he picked to attach himself to. A small part of her wanted to join him, as she still had a few matters to discuss with him. But, to do so at this point would seem queer and foolish. As her select group began to mobilize, Marianne stayed quiet. Keeping close to Sir Eadwig as her eyes stayed on the alert, constantly scanning her environment.

Head on a swivel, Marianne nearly jumped with a start when Sir Eadwig spoke. Mentioning death, her expression grew somber as she respectfully listened to her senior. Her eyes locking with his as she absorbed his words.

"I...I understand, Sir Eadwig. You need not say more on the matter."

And truly, a small part of her did deeply understand. Battle was crude and ugly. Losses on the field were inevitable for both parties involved. It was not a glamourous affair, but she would not allow herself to be consumed by it and soul blackened like it appeared to be the case for her fellow Iron Roses. Though Sir Eadwig may not know it at the time, Marianne had no intention to play 'fairly'. Be swift. Be merciless. Only after the deeds are done will she say her prayers and shed her tears.

They continued to ride in silence for some time until they came into position and Sir Eadwig began to make known to her how to take advantage of the terrain and stack the odds of war in their favor. It was all quite simple, really, though anything could seem simple and easy to understand with an experienced teacher. Following Sir Eadwig to the reserve line of troops, she again gave him his full deserved attention as she locked eye contact with him once more as he spoke. She couldn't help but be a little flattered and embarrassed when he smiled and mentioned her having a 'good heart'. Though, that quickly dissolved away when she realized that Sir Eadwig was turning a small section of their forces over to her to command. From the bottom of her stomach, she could feel feelings of anxiety and nervousness begin to grow. She had never taken command over others before, having no experience in that field. Might as well learn now. She had plenty of other good leaders to draw knowledge from. So swallowing down her fears, she retained her composure and in fact seemed to grow confident. Sir Eadwig had enough trust in her abilities to do such a thing. She couldn't and wouldn't let him down. Besides, it was a simple and small role she was assigned, though important still.

Following after him as he returned to the front line, she began to formulate ideas and a plan of attack.
"Sir Eadwig? Before we begin and I no longer have the luxury of asking...These pikes, are they effective at removing men from their horses?"
Anyone could see what she was thinking, if they had a lick of sense.
"If my role with your platoon is to act as a reactionary force meant to reinforce our allies in the event of an emergency, then I would like your opinion on a few matters."
Looking out at the lands in front of them, she continued.
"With the men you've given me, I plan on flying in as fast as our horses can take us with pikes in arms. Striking the enemy before they have much time to react and grounding their forces by forcing them off their mounts. From there, I plan on having us encircle them to harass with arrows before returning to your main force."
Turning to look at Sir Eadwig, she finished up voicing her plans.
"If that plan is sound in your eyes, then my final question is this. What shall the signal to mobilize be?" She said with a smile.

Sir Aethelmund's final words, coupled with the aid of some of his men, were of great help in aiding Tiral's worry about the situation. The young mage's breathing a bit more relaxed as the group continued forth, his hands still balled into fists as he began to run over the situation a few times in his head. There had to have been a reason the captain had picked him, after all... And a bad showing here might tarnish his reputation for the rest of his life. Although the prospect of that and that alone was worrisome, he still had the lives of others to worry about. Though this was still just a mission to rout a group of bandits, one false move could...

"Calm yourself, Sir Tiral. Worry only begets worry; have faith in yourself and your companions."

The feeling of a firm hand clapping down on his shoulder caused Tiral's body to tense for a moment before turning to face the source: Sir Luthor, who for all intents and purposes was a much more battle-hardened man than he. With a deep breath, Tiral nodded and attempted to put on a smile for the knight. There was no arguing that the job wasn't stressful, but... At the very least, he would have to put on a brave face in front of the rest of the company.

Lady Julianna's words before the group had set forth, though, popped into Tiral's mind as he righted himself. Haste and stealth... Well, while the first was a given, the second was likely a bit more difficult to do when the entire battalion was rushing headlong into the enemy camp. Then Sir Aethelmund's follow-up suggestion popped into his head: sounding a horn to call for reinforcements and flank those who were attacking his forces. While the plan seemed sound, baiting the enemy into a chase on the rear during a simultaneous assault seemed... Somewhat strange. Tiral wasn't in any position to question his superior's suggestion, but... Well, if it came down to it, that plan was always an option.

Eventually, the group of knights slowed down as they finished rounding about the camp. A few sentries were stationed around the sides, though luckily enough for the knights they seemed to be none the wiser. They were far enough away for Tiral to attempt to give orders, at least... Well, at least to a degree of being audible.

"Once the call sounds, I want the archers to attempt to take down those guarding the perimeter as quickly as possible. If successful, we break past the defenses they have set up with a simultaneous charge from all shieldbearers; else, I want the archers to light their arrows on fire and aim for any flammable structures instead. Once inside, assuming we are successful, I want you to use the ensuing chaos to your advantage and attempt to kill those who seem to be in disarray. Do not hesitate to retreat if you are injured; there is no shame in living to fight another day. Archers will remain behind during this assault and provide cover fire to those who need it. If the enemy has a stronger defensive structure from the rear than anticipated, defends from archer fire and draw them from their camp; I shall call for aid and we shall collapse upon them soon thereafter. Are we clear?"

The acknowledgement of his statement from his peers was a welcome sight to Tiral, who now turned back to face the camp.
This was his trial, and with the expectations of others weighing down on him, now was no time to falter.

Now, though? All he could do was wait.

Tyaethe turned to look at the knight after her attention. It was, as unfortunately common, the historian. It wasn't that Tyaethe had much of a dislike for him as a person... but his constant asking after historical events even though he'd been in the order for five years was maddening. Someone that didn't seem to get the hint--even when it became an angry rant--that her perspective on recent history boiled down to lots of bloodshed was definitely not one that the undead wanted to deal with.

Why he had developed an interest in trying to play chess with her, she didn't know. The game was entirely too slow and sedentary for her tastes and Tyaethe had ended up declining every attempt. If he asked again, she was going to suggest a more physical way of passing the time. Maybe if she beat him halfway around a field, he'd get the idea to stop bothering her about things that didn't even hold a passing interest?

As they arrived in position, red eyes followed the smoke up to the dusky sky. "Better that we could attack at night. Moonlight would cleanse all the sins committed here."

Still, there was no chance to alter the timing now and it was hardly as if most of the order would care for such philosophical reasons nor be trained in fighting at night, moonlit or not. Instead, she had to organise this group... which was a rather pointless endeavour, as there were hardly enough people equipped in one manner or the other to truly group anyone or arrange arms-based tactics. Definitely not when split in four, not that it would stop people from trying.

"Anyone with a heavy weapon, follow behind me. Spear or pike behind them. Got a shield? Form along the edges and cover our sides. We don't have horses, so we'll have to try breaking them with a charge on foot." Tyaethe commanded, relishing one aspect of being in command: nobody could gainsay her decision to lead the charge from the front. It was far more exciting than advancing in ranks and it actually let her sword be put to proper use. She had never trained to fight as part of a wall of infantry, not since she was a child.

Grinning, she began to advance, "When we see them, run."

@VitaVitaAR



Teller smiled wryly behind the beaked visage at the thought of impending battle. Years on the field had dulled neither his taste for war or his passion for sewing up the aftermath of it. How odd, he pondered while reaching into his coat pocket, that the duality of his soul would be drawn to harm and healing all at once. There was an irony that he quite enjoyed as he pulled out the ripe red apple from his coat pocket and admired the gleam off the fast fading sunlight. Turning the to the captain, Anton listened to her orders and silently agreed with her decisions. Despite the youths obvious lackings it was clear this girl had a sense of strategy. With time would it yield fruit such as the one he held?
As the soldiers marched forward to the fight, Teller cleared his throat to catch the captains attention. Fanilly Danbalion was like himself once upon a time. Thrust into a position he had not been entirely prepared for but willing to rise to the challenge. Did she, like Anton had back then, feel the self doubt in her actions and the panic of her choices?

His voice was soft as he addressed only her.

"Be clear in your decisions and resolute in your beliefs, Captain. I have faith in you."

Though you could not see his eyes or his reassuring smile it was all too obvious from his tone what he meant. As a physician it was his job to deal with the worst possible scenario at the end of a fight. His job required hard decisions, to speak calmly and act with caution and purpose. A single misstep could cost a patient their life. Teller could understand the pressure this bright young woman was under. Teller would fight and take life for his captain and his order. When the battle was over, he would fight harder to save the lives he still could.

Anton put the apple in the Captains hand with a short laugh.

"Healthy body, healthy mind."

He left unsaid the little half joke. An apple a day kept the doctor away, right.

@Themerlinhawk

Teller checked his gear and the many syringes in and around his coat methodically, memorizing which one was where in case he needed one in the midst of a fight. Wouldn't do to accidentally stab himself with his own toxic concoction. Not that such a thing had ever happened before.... more than a few times. Anton Duboi was not always a clever man.
The walk was brisk as the knights mounted and began their approach. Sun setting low in the sky, visibility would be an issue for the armored knights against what Teller presumed would be sneaky killers in their element. His hand squeezed the hilt of his Khopesh just a little tighter at the thought. It wasn't until he saw the burly form of one Sir Garrett. A barbarian and a fierce warrior in his own right, Teller wasn't sure if he had ever had the misfortune of sewing this one back together after a fight. More likely the brawny brawler heavily favored the 'I can stand it' way of dealing with an injury.

Speaking of injury, Teller could not help but notice the uncomfortable look on Garrett as he rolled his shoulder and stretched his neck. Performance in battle was just as important as performance out of battle, and a crumbling body would not last long in the heavy conflict the knights often took part in. Teller made his way to the big man and waved his hand in a friendly, non aggressive manner. Aware that many took his mask as a foul omen of some kind instead of the practical functioning medical equipment that it was.

"Apologies, Sir. Doctor Teller." Anton bowed lightly before continuing. "We don't have long before the fight, but I'd like to offer some help before we get into it." Teller reached into his coat and pulled out a long syringe with a NS on the front. (NS Stands for Numbing Solution) "It is a mild sedative. Numbs the body so you feel no pain.. Past or present."

Didn't want to make the big man feel weak for an injury that came naturally in this life.

Admittedly, this plan was not Iolyn's first choice, like every knight present he would have conducted the battle differently if it were him in charge. Different commanders, different plans, different styles. Preferably, he'd have commanded a unit of more lightly armed troops and held back while the other three groups closed in on the enemy. Then, when the rout began and there was an obvious path of escape, they would have chased down the cowards, preferably with the "Bandit King" among them.

Ultimately, this was not an ideal situation for him. The man preferred mobility. With Zidra beneath him he could easily keep his distance and wear the enemy down with bolts from far, or quick darting charges at gaps in the enemy formation. At the very least, he could keep an eye open for enemy commanders from the rear and try and snipe the enemy into chaos. Still, though, a knight of his rank was as accustomed to taking orders as giving them, and he voiced no dissent at the current state of things. Indeed, with their few numbers, any charge would need him added to it in order to give it strength. If worst came to worst he could always use the woman in front of him as a big undead barricade to fire missiles from behind.

As it stood though, he only expected to take one shot in the battle today, and hopefully it would find Jeremiah like a kiss from Death. His crossbow was knocked at his side for just that purpose.

"Admittedly this wasn't the kind of chess I had in mind when I made the offer. Should be easy enough to clear a board of pawns and a king though."

Iolyn was not a pious man himself, but he could respect the woman's dedication to her faith even so many years after her "death". An existence like that could easily be considered a curse, although if tales were true she could be killed if she ever tired of her duties. Still, she seemed far too stubborn to ever consider dying. Truly, she was far more terrifying once one got to know her, the enemy had no idea.

"Keep your discipline men, do not let your charge devolve into a skirmish. Break their formation while keeping our own and the dogs will realize quickly how much more bark than bite they have. We follow the longest serving knight in the Order! Let her see your resolve today and be proud of what the Iron Roses have become!"

Iolyn himself was never fond of speeches, but it could do wonders for the morale right before a charge. Some of these men and women were far too green to reliably hold the line when push came to shove. With any luck, their determination would be steeled, and a potential disaster prevented.

His hand gripped the Kriegsmesser at his side tightly as a grim smile spread across his own face. Yes, words could have immense power in a battle, but it was still steel that would carry the day in the end. He was prepared to spill blood in order to make the countryside safer.

It was a good day for regicide.

Ian's smile widened for a moment at the captain's brief display of excitement before it was covered up again by his mask and his hood pulled back up over his ears. He made to follow Fanilly, though he turned around again and walked backwards just behind her to have a look at the actual group's composition.

One of the first things he noticed was the looks on some of the other ranking knight's faces, like they didn't think much of their captain, he could even see it when at least one of the groups changed it's tactic, bringing cavalry despite Fanilly's order for a dismount and the dangers of trying to charge through the dense woods. Given her apparent age he could guess why they held that sentiment, poor girl. He bumped into a tree while he was walking backwards and startled himself out of his thought so he quickly turned around and quickened his stride to catch back up with her.

He noticed that she apparently fought without a shield, given that she wasn't carrying one and, well, there's a reason he carries two. He clinked the ends of his shield together in front of him as he came up beside Fanilly "Hey" he held his shields out in front of him, one covering most of himself and the other more to the side so that she could use it for cover "I'll stay close, alright?" his grip was loose on the shields for now, as the got closer to the camp he'd brace and hold them firm.

The captain and the others could deal with the tactics and the strategy. He'd just focus on keeping the girl next to him alive...and himself as well, that'd be nice.

The trees were growing tight. In the dusk, Philin’s eyes strained to see about him. The passage through the forest was tough negotiating, and his spotted palfrey found footing among the foliage at a slow pace.

“Of course they picked the hardest terrain for their camp,” the young man said to himself. These bandits had more sense than most, but that did not say much. Philin had only been with the Order for three years, and like most squires approaching knighthood, he was sometimes given scouting duty instead of maintaining the equipment or guarding the supply train. A proud smile creased his cheeks; it was a small that he did not take lightly.

Through the obscured woodland, he could see movement. Men and women in mismatched clothes and armor poured themselves over scraps of possessions stolen in their raids and robberies. King Jeremiah’s band was making out well for themselves, and the goods they collected were piled high outside of a large number of makeshift tents. His smile dropped. There were more bandits than he had anticipated; a couple hundred at the very least. They must have had equal or greater numbers than the Iron Roses, but the count was difficult through the trees and tents. The camp was fortified with a thin palisade of roughly hewn branches dug into the earth.

He whistled sharply, trotting away from the camp as fast as his horse could allow before a runner came upon him, “They have a weak palisade and a few hundred in their camp. Tell Sir Aethelmund that the forest thins within their camp, it’ll be easier for cavalry to move once inside.” He said to the runner who nodded in understanding before rushing off toward the main body of the right flank.

--

Eadwig moved across the lines of soldiers with Marianne in tow. In front, fifteen archers stood in light leather and chain armor. They all wore swords or hand axes at their hips, and some even had round bucklers on their back. Behind them stood a line of fifteen pike men all armed with kite shields and fire hardened pikes with cruel iron points. With each unit of five, there was an official knight of the Roses to guide them. The right wing of the infantry was guarded by a dozen mounted knight and on the left another. The reserve backed them as ten strong split between mounted and infantry.

They were cut into small flanks for the attack, Eadwig knew, but he was a meticulous planner nonetheless. Tactics had saved his life and the life of many of his comrades in his years of service. When the bandit king Evan and his army of fifteen ambushed him and his five fellow knight, they had galloped ahead and spun around to launch a sortie in a formation so tight that their feet touched. When they hit the mass of confused bandits, their lances killed five of them and another three were trampled. The bandits had been routed before they fully realized what had occurred. It was not a singular experience either, small unit tactics had aided him in the early days of Phoran Cal’s rebellion and in devastating flanks during a number of foreign excursion wars.

“Sir Eadwig?” Dame Delacroix spoke up beside him, “Before we begin and I no longer have the luxury of asking . . . These pikes, are they efficient at removing men from their horses?”

The girl seemed prepared, and she was thinking of her command. Sir Aethelmund’s brow furrowed into deep canals masking his contentedness, “I see that your training has stuck with you,” he said brusquely, “Aye, the pikes can do that. Not as efficiently as lances mind you. You’ll need to be careful with your balance while using them.” Eadwig nodded over to the mounted soldiers Marianne would command, some among them held lances but they were the exception. “The plan is good. You should be able to break their morale quickly. Be careful while firing on horseback, these knights can shoot while in saddle, but few if any can while riding. Find a good place to fire where you cannot be overcome if you insist upon it.”

The runner came upon them quickly, “Sir! Philin has spotted the camp ahead.”

Eadwig narrowed his gaze, “Aye, what did he make of it?”

“There are a few hundred of them with palisades, and the camp is better for cavalry.”

“Is the rest of the forest as dense as this?”

“Nearabouts, yes. Horses’ll be slow going up until their camp.”

Sir Aethelmund tapped his reins. He had not expected the camp to be as fortified as that, “That will slow us, but most of the bandits will be engaged when we enter.” The man turned to the small supply wagon and called to the pages for ropes which were distributed among the Roses with haste. “The archers and the left and center pike will march down to the palisades diagonally toward Captain Danbalion and we will pull it down!” Aethelmund declared with a storm beneath his breath, “The left cavalry will ride in and strike the flank of the bandits rallying against our Captain before wheeling northward toward Sir Tiral’s forces while the infantry clears the camp toward the center.” A gauntleted hand pointed to the remaining pike men and Marianne’s cavalry. “The right pike will make for the palisades closer to the north flank and throw it down so that Dame Marianne may rush and harry those who stand against Sir Tiral. The pike shall reinforce her, but will leave space for the bandits to flee toward our flank.” He points to the reserve, “Sir Bernhard shall ensure they surrender instead of rally.”

Rolling his shoulders, rode up behind the units of pike men. The force moved slowly in the direction of the camp, and what they were unable to see the scouts would tell. They laid in wait fifty meters from the fortifications hidden by a copse of trees and dense brush, “Sir Tiral should give a signal when he is engages,” Sir Aethelmund spoke in a low voice to Marianne, “When he does this, I will signal us forward.” He pats a horn at the side of his horse. “Sir Tiral may have a different course of action however, wait on my signal, but once we are engaged the command and the decisions are yours.” He paused a moment, “If the terrain of the camp is too harsh, then dismount.”

Eadwig heaved his heater shield onto his arm, and a squire handed him a heavy lance. His heart longed for his voulge, the weapon for which he had made into his art. But today was on for swords and lances.

To Marianne he said, “Keep them alive, improvise, but always think two steps ahead.”

@harinezumikouken