By the river, Gellas establishes the command tent, where it can be watched by guards, is close to everything else, but far enough from the nearby buildings so that it might avoid any surprises the Huns left behind.  The following day, after resting and getting some breakfast there is a "staff meeting".

Guards stand near the tent.   Patrols ring the town in the distance, keeping an eye of everything within five miles with the aid of the troops in the watchtower.

According to Gellas the time of easy pickings like this is ending.  The arriving troops with the supply caravan told him about the Humans pressed into service by the Huns.  That means the Huns are becoming wise to these games, and another easy raid on Hun supplies will mean attacking soldiers that are at least nominally under Theoderic’s brother.  And they don’t expect small Hun forces to stay in place.   They will probably simply withdraw, rather than face Theoderic.  But Gellas and Theoderic both expected things to winds towards the finish.  Typically, once the “big armies” are assembled by either side, it’s comes down to where and when the two sides will find each other.

This leads up to two serious questions:  Where is the Hun main army now, and where do they expect it to go?

And a third question: with everyone together, now where will they go?

Jestrynara, looking tired, reports back here herself, with Wellawut the Gnome.  She admits to playing sniper in the town during the battle, and takes credit for putting one of her arrows into the shaman as he stood on the watchtower platform.

After seeing the caravan through to the center of town, Eadoin makes his way to the command tent.  Though he does want to see friends, to inquire after their well-being, to hear everything that's happened, and to share his own news, he feels the pressure of duty.

There's little chance he'll slip through the cavalry pickets, especially as there are near a hundred of his folk in arcs just as wide as the other existing patrols.  Centaurs stand out amongst such a gathering.  Even though there's is a large band of the equine folk, amongst the numbers of Theoderic's army, they are but a small few.

Eadoin seeks Gellas, to present himself and a few select members of his own band.  "G'day, sir.  You called for a hundred of my folk, swearing by the White Mare.  We've come sir, a little more than four score us here and another couple of dozen behind near Raviniacum."

He goes on to offer a brief summary of the encounter with Fernand, his encounters in the Nethershires, Mos Trajectum, and other parts north.  Fernand, he estimates, and others like him, might be turn to help the King if the reason for their helping the Hun were resolved.

Once they have arrived in Viroviacum Titus asks Bardas to look into arranging quarters for their party and sends Minnie into town to learn what she can about things here. He takes his leave of Thyrmold and invites Ali'Cor, Cirrus, and Jaquin to join him in the Command Tent.

When he arrives he sees that Eadoin is there before him and he enters as quietly and unobtrusively as he can as he does not wish to interrupt the Centaur Chieftain's report.

Ovo, feeling better, likewise enters the tent but does not interrupt. Unless he is asked he remains closed mouth. The Dwarf awaits the discussion about how to fight the Huns. To him it would be feigning in one direction with just enough manpower to be dangerous and drawing attention away from the main body. While the main  body goes to relieve a city besieged. After lifting the siege the towns armies join Theoderic.

He remains quiet and listens carefully.

Ali'Cor seeing all the activity watches everything a carefully as possible noting area where perhaps he can help.  But for now all he wants to do is see his sister.  When Titus and Eadoin head for the command tent, Ali'Cor assumes that Aela is going to be there with Theoderic so he accompanies dragging Jaquen with him.

Once inside the tent... he stands quietly and waits as he attempts to recall who everyone is and what point the conversation is.  He does not want to interrupt.

Minnie goes about finding quarters.  She’s not the only one, and there is a general “quartering” lecture from Theoderic.

”We are not here as conquerors or looters,” he says to everyone.  “These are our people.  Many are dead, some have been taken away as slaves.  Those that have been taken away, one day we will find, and we will return them, and I expect that they will want their homes again.  So we must use them, but I insist we be respectful of them.  Treat the homes here as if they belong to friends, and you are guests.”

Minnie is certain that wasn’t mean for her… Wereminks are always respectful.  In fact, it wouldn’t surprise her that if the owners of a house came back and found her there, they’d be flattered that a Weremink chose their house to rest in.  It must have been meant for the soldiers here… they look like a pretty rough bunch, some of them.

Then Theoderic gets to the issue of Centaurs.  A hundred Centaurs!  It had been said as a jest!  Gellas looks embarrassed.  No one’s actually counted the Centaurs, but there are certainly a lot of them.  Even if Eadoin has not managed the full hundred, it’s a feat above and beyond anyone’s expectations.

But… how best to employ them, when he doesn’t know their capabilities?

”There are Roman tactical writings,” Gellas says, “which neither of us have read because we’ve never had a force of Centaurs… and who’s got the time to read, anyway?”

”A mock battle,” Theoderic says. “That’s what we need.  Eadoin, we need to see not only how they perform as individuals, but in groups as well.  We need to set up some sort of mock practice battle that we can watch.”

On the other hand, Eadoin's made extensive and repeated attempts to count his folk, even made focused efforts to meet and chat with each of them over the intervening weeks.  He's gone to great lengths to learn each person's name, their family members, their hopes, and why they'd come to a far land.  He's travelled with scouts and with groups simply going to get water, trying to learn everyone's strengths, who likes whom and who doesn't get on well.

He'd asked Mayez to leave a reserve of no more than one in five in Raviniacum, even met with the leaders there to set each a task in preparation for the rest of the band who'd come in the spring.   These're things he'd expect of a chief, so he's pushed himself hard to meet his own expectations, so he hopes his encompassing efforts, not just to have a census of his folk, but to know them aren't in vain.

---

Where Eadoin's faith is concerned, there is often room for humor, amusement, and even plain old fun to be had.  Oaths, however, he takes quite seriously.  When one swears by the gods, not Epona as Eadoin remembered, but by Mars and Minerva as Gellas had, that's something sacred, a statement of intent to bend one's will to accomplish something or to die gloriously in the course of doing it.  Whatever Gellas' intent in so swearing, the young druid's met that challenge to the best of his ability.  Whatever his reasons, an oath before the gods freely given and sworn to them is an oath one ought to strongly consider keeping.

In the meanwhile, Eadoin's learned a little about his folk.  "We're fine archers and self provisioning where the land's not scorched over.  There're few better at us than woodcraft and there's a fair number of us can track."  Without mincing words much, Eadoin addresses the King.  "Many of my folk are spoiling for a fight, even if it's a little one.  We've been looking for a bit of trouble, but haven't found any.  Not a single Hun, just the burned out villages in a wide path.  They don't seem to have had out any pickets at all, not even outriders or worgs.  I thought they'd have supply trains, patrols, or just more of them coming to where they're gonna fight.  Not a one, though."

Theoderic speaks to Eadoin in the command tent...
“Eadoin, I am not doubting the courage or the skill of the Centaur warriors.  Or their eagerness for battle.  No, they have come so far on faith, no one with that heart should be doubted.  I am speaking of technique.  It is one thing to observe a warrior alone, or a few together.  But twenty together, how do they move?  When one wheels right, do they all?  Does their line hold tight in a charge?  How quickly does a group rally to a point when a command is given?  These are the things I need to know.  I expect they will fight, but I don’t know how.”

”Hay bales,” Gellas says.  “We’ll set some up.  We’ll give them some Orc armor and weapons.  Mock targets.  We’ll run a few drills.”

”I don’t want to insult them,” Theoderic says. “In a way, it is they who must teach us, who have never fought along Centaurs before. “

”Now… the subject of supply trains… it seems we’ve scared them off.  So, as you discovered for us, they're using conscripted Humans now, to bait me into killing them.”

”This is where it comes to the head,” Gellas fills in.  “They know we’re out here now, and they’re not going to meet us in battle unless they think they can win.  Even Orcs won't throw away good troops for nothing.  Well, not often.  And we’re not going to meet them in battle unless we think we can win.  So I don’t expect many more battles, but there’s going to be at least one that’s big enough for your friends.”

Titus considers the exchange and figures it is about time to say something. He steps forward and beginning with a Roman salute speaks, "Your Majesty, my Lord Gellas, if you are confident that we have the time for war games an exercise as you describe might well be useful. It seems as if the variety of your command has grown as much as its quantity. I have some experience with the sorts of drills you suggest and happy to offer my services here...

"As a matter of fact I would like to announce here and before all that I am prepared to resign my position as Ambassador of Burgundy and join your Court, if you are willing to have me, Theodoric. I hope this will not be understood as a lack of loyalty to my House or to King Gundobad, but I believe I have done my duty to him and I find myself incapable of continuing any pretend neutrality in these affairs.

"I would pledge my sword and myself to your cause."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:59, Sat 18 Aug 2012.

Ovo held his tongue though he wanted to talk about supply lines and such but when the newcomer pledge his sword and services to the king, he could not help but smile. The dwarf had seen this happen more than once in the past. Ovo gave Titus a rare smile and nod. He wanted to clap him upon the shoulder but then thought better of it. He then awaited Theoderic's reaction...

Eadoin glances to Thayer and Mayez.  He thinks perhaps the king has misunderstood his statements as defensiveness.  He's troubled that after a few short weeks of maneuver, there's to be some sort of large, presumably decisive battle.  "What is it you have in mind, sir?"

Theoderic is very happy to see Titus again.

“Titus, you’ve traveled over Belgica more than I have at this point, and you’ve met the leadership, and the people, throughout the land.  When this is over, and it will be over very soon, there will be a nation to rebuild.  Belgica will be badly damaged.  Your service will be invaluable, as a Minister.  If you are open to that job, it is yours.”

But first, there is the matter of the Centaurs.

Gellas and some of his men use poles, stakes, and rope to arrange a practice course for the Centaurs near the town.  Many of the Centaurs are skeptical.  Is it a game?  They didn’t come here for games.   But Gellas and Theoderic don’t seem to looking to the Centaurs to “prove themselves” or beat anything.  Mostly, they seem to be measuring.  They are interested in knowing how fast a group moves, and strange details like, how far apart are Centaurs when they run?

“They’re not going to be lancers,” Gellas says after observing the first few groups of Centaurs on the mock-battle course.

“I see that,” Theoderic confirms.  “They stay loose.  They don’t hold a rank close on a charge.  And… they don’t charge like horsemen, either.  A rider has the horse between him and the foe in front.  Not the Centuars.  They’re right in front.”

“Skirmishers, then,” Gellas says.

“Or mobile archers.  Fast light infantry.  They’re different… so they have to be employed with different tactics.  There is no time to retrain them.  I have to use them to match what they can do, not squeeze them into something we’ve done with someone else.  They are good archers.”

“They’d be better if more had bows,” Gellas replies.  “I’ll see what we can pilfer from the Huns.”

The letter from Seti arrives.

“A very formal man,” Theoderic says.  “He and Rita are nothing alike, despite coming from the same place.”    He reads.

“A portal.  A magical door, from one place to another.  We’ve used one before.  Yes, I see the importance of this, and why the Huns would want it.”

Agility courses.  Whether it's true or not, Eadoin begins to feel the divide between his age and other's assessment of his judgement.  It presses hard on his resolve and patience is not his strong suit.  It's...odd to hear Gellas and Theoderic discuss things that seem obvious, like stating affirmatively and sagely that water is wet.  Gellas had it right when he suggested all those months ago that Eadoin and his little family of four ought to be equipped with bows.  In fact, Eadoin still carries that very bow, as well as the spear Vagrenk gave him.  Though he's got a staff, it's strange to him that no one's picked up on things that seem plain to him.

"We've little armor among us, leather and metal are difficult to come by, sir," Eadoin says interjecting himself into the conversation.  "We'd be best armed, sir, with bow or sling and a short spear for throwing or fighting, as well as a shield and a club.  I've worked hard to provide everyone at least those last two through the gods' blessings, but there are more than I can manage in a short time."

How does one suggest to a king a way of doing things?  Perhaps directly.  "Forgive me, sir, but it's best I speak plainly.  When we came with Caesar from Hellas, my folk served as light infantry, sometimes as heavy when we had armor and metal to spare.  Here, we'd be best as archers, slingers, or to respond quickly when you need someone who can.  We're few, but we're strong as their ogres, some of us even as strong as their trolls."  That's all the upside.  "We...aren't highly disciplined, though, sir, at least not in the ways others think of soldiers, to rally to a point or to hold tightly together in a charge."

Titus is well pleased to hear Theodoric's welcome and the position, vague as it might be, he is offering. That said, he knows that there are more important things to discuss and he is quite interested in the matter of how the Centaurs might best be used in combat. He finds the conversation a bit patronizing despite the fact that he's not one of those being discusses, but understands that the King and his Marshal are feeling the crush of time.

If this matter is not directly related to himself, he notes Eadoin's growing discomfort, but says nothing. The Chieftain must learn to navigate these shores, he thinks to himself. When Eadoin does speak Titus is gratified that he did not waste the opportunity and steps forward, "Discipline can be learned. Strength, endurance, and speed are the gifts of the gods, Chieftain, and your people have certainly been blessed."

He smiles and turns to Theodoric and Gellas, "My Lords, what Eadoin says here makes good sense. As soon as we have the opportunity we might begin training the troop to be better disciplined; however, in the meantime, they are valiant warriors who might be used to quickly support infantry with missile weapons or, as you say, flankers and skirmishers. This company not only expands our capacity on the offensive, but the defensive as well.

"The diversity of the King of Belgica's forces not only reflects the nature of his war, but will catch the Emperor off guard as the force you have against Him is unlike any he might have expected."

A tall lanky professor of indeterminate age and the subtle awkwardness of one wrapped up in battling for truth, justice and all things Burgundian who really doesn't mind evil all that much and would just as happy to continue studying the extremely dangerous and blasphemous universal truths with an army of dumbass graduate students and a nice cuddly cat and who loves idiotic run-on sentances came into the command tent.

Um ... Hello

Says Scolo, who would is perfectly comfortable wearing furry Malemute slippers and a tiny girls backpack.

I heard you had a special Arm the Centaurs with Bows program so I picked up a few things.


He unzips his backpack and dumps out A dozen fine bows and 20 odd ordinary ones, two that were recently mended. Along with loads of slightly stained quivers a pile of arrows many of them high quality by Orc standards. And a few daggers.

He smiles and waits a moment for the accolade - he wants to help after all.

Then he wanders off.

Eadoin regards Scolo strangely, mildly curious how the unkempt old man manages to keep all of that hidden away in so small a space, much less carry it all.  Orcish longbows would be quite small for most of his folk, closer to shortbows.  Still, he's not one to...ummm...look a gift horse in the mouth.  "Thank you, sir," he offers by way of accolades.  "We'll put 'em to good use."

Titus, in a most unusual moment, is struck silent by Scolo's appearance and gifts. He has not yet met the man and has no idea whom he is, however, Theodoric, Gellas, and others of the King's circle seem to know him, so... He stands bemused and impressed.

Scolo smiles - glad to help a fellow  - uh ... Er fellow heh
He says to the man with a horses ass.
I've never met a fellow like you ... Bigger than I thought
He holds out a hand to shake
Have fun mowing down your enemies!

Eadoin smirks, finding Scolo quite disturbingly and amusingly odd.  He'd be glad Scolo said nothing about his thoughts, though.  The young Centaur's learned through the years to let some of the comments pass him by, to shape the comments and perceptions when the circumstances are right.

He's large, sure, but much smaller than the grown warriors of his folk, those who are more of a scale of the largest of warhorses; he's still young.  Eadoin shakes the hand proffered.  "'Man' is proper, sir, no more or less than other folk.  You've our thanks and we'll try to put your gifts to the best use they can be."

There is a moment of befuddlement when Scolo makes his appearance.  There are some things that just do not seem to fit into Theoderic's universe, and it is clear that he has never figured out quite what to make of Scolo.  Then he shakes it off, as if waking from a dream he cannot understand.

The Orc bows are what some would call second rate.  Not everyone, though.  They are not as big as the traditional Centaur bows, or as skillfully made as Elven bows, but they are strong and rugged.  They are designed for Orcs- the draw is shorter, but the bow itself is much stiffer.  But many Centaurs lack bows entirely, and so a few more can't hurt.  And they are better than what a typical Human peasant might make for himself.

They can't expect much time for training, though.  Theoderic expects to get moving soon.  The stop here is only a couple of days, to complete the resupply, and send the caravan back on its way.

After that...

"The first job of an army is to find the enemy," Gellas says.  "Not necessarily to attack.. we'll hold off until the timing is right.  But we can't seize the right time unless we're on top of them, ready to pounce.  The Centaurs told us the Human riders in Hun service were headed to Tornacum.  They might be using it as a supply base.  They have to eat to.  So our first job is to scout out Tornacum.  Not attack it."

Theoderic continues.

"It's a full day on foot for a man, so we'll have only riders.. and Centaurs.   It might be a trap- Tornacum was the Capital of my line, the Merovingian Franks, once.  Even though my father moved the throne out before I was born, the Huns might think it is significant to us in some way, and think to bait us.  That won't happen.  I want to fight the Hun army only on my terms." 

"I wish we had time to work with the Centaurs," Gellas says.  "Ah, it's like that old saying.  You go to war with the army you have, and whatever else shows up along the way."

Riordeg has gravitated to the command tent. Having done a fair bit of travelling in the past few weeks, he expects to be doing more in the weeks to come.

He doesn't mind going where he's ordered to go, but would like to know why those orders are given. He reckons this is the best place to be to understand any orders he's given.

He's a little unsure how the centaurs will work as archers. Sure, they'd be better able to fire on the move than a horseman, but from what he can see of their build, they can only shoot in the direction they are travelling, whereas a human can fire in any direction, not just the one his horse is facing.

Oh well, as Gellas has just said, you fight with what you've got - and make it work for you.

There isn’t much time for training, but Theoderic and Gellas try to get the Centaurs adjusted to some of their own basics, in particular, training the Centaur leaders to recognize their flag and bugle signals.  The bugle can be heard quite a distance away- miles, on a quiet night, up to a mile in battle.

As they work, the plan for moving forward is formulated.  Theoderic does not intend to disperse the spell casters and elite fighters he has available.  They will be formed into teams intended to attack specific targets- enemy leaders, wherever they can.  Theoderic has learned that the Huns do not fight well when their leadership is not giving orders.  They fight fiercely, yes, but not smartly.

Centaurs aren’t entirely inflexible.  They can twist their front torso around.  Although, Riordeg might be right about taking a shot directly across their aft quarter.  That might be too difficult.  Fortunately for Centaurs, years of experience with being Centaurs have taught them ways of coping with this; they can occasionally zig zag, they can shoot at targets behind other Centaurs, or the most favored tactic- don’t leave anything dangerous directly behind unless it is close enough to kick.

OOC: <open sarcasm>If that banner doesn't strike fear into the orcs, huns, blackguards and demons I don't know what will.<close sarcasm>

The onlookers here learn something of the organization of Theoderic’s army.

It is an ad-hoc organization, much of it hastily assembled, not only with the recently arrived Centaurs, but with Belgicans who were scattered in the initial advance of the Huns.   Previous arrivals include many men who fought for the Frankish rulers of Gaul, including Theoderic’s father king Clovis, and could not agree to living with the “peace treaty”.  The core beneath that is his own cavalry, several hundred men recruited from the small towns and villages under his direct control, including his home town of Raviniacum.  And then there is the very potent Lucimburic company.  Most of those fighters are Lycanthropes, and they take full advantage non only of their ability to transform into various animals (a lot of them are werewolves) but their resistance to non-silver weapons.

This makes for something of a hodge-podge of leadership, titles, and functions.  Sometimes it seems confusing even to Theoderic- he was not aware until a few days ago, for example, how many Belgican soldiers he had with him.   He gathers with him the leaders from each group- a few of the Centaurs, Lycanthropes, Frankish men, and Belgicans- about twenty five in all.  It is time to hand out the first assignment.

The Centaurs, who seem to accept Thayer as their military leader even though Eadoin remains their spiritual guide, are at first dismayed that it does not go to them.  But then… this isn’t forward, this is back.  He assigns a squad of light scouts to check the route behind them, making sure the supply caravan, which is getting ready to return to Hiricio, will not run into trouble.

He picks a light, fast squad under the command of a warrior Riordeg knows well; Justin, one of the sons of the Magnate of Castricum.  The Magnate of Castricum, one of the several minor Frankish lords loyal to Theoderic, supervises the training of the cavalry in the old fortress near the Meuse.  He has three sons, two of which are now serving.  Gellas and Theoderic “tweak” Justin’s squad; they want the fastest riders for this.  Riordeg sees familiar faces among them- the young crop of Frankish warriors are the “peer group” he grew up with, and trained with.

For an army on the move, speed is most essential not for scouting in front, but rather, for scouting behind.  Justin’s men will have to catch up from behind as the main army moves away from them- the scouts in front, on the other hand, know the main army is approaching them.

It is only when they realize that these scouts will be going back the way they came do the Centaurs feel not snubbed.  Surely, they will get to impress by going forwards, not back.

Scouting!  Here's something that Eadoin and his folk can manage well, though they'd not be able to pass themselves off in the city.  For that sort of scouting, Kyriel or Jaquen would be ever so much better.  He does find it very odd that both the king and Gellas continue to discuss him and his folk in the third person, as if he weren't present with a number of leaders from his band.

All but the last few months, Eadoin's lived virtually as a slave to the Huns.  He's quite uncertain, though, how one discusses things with a king when one is not a vassal.  Six months ago, he'd not have frowned, but would have avoided the situation entirely.  Here, having lived with and led his band south to aid this king and to honor gods Gellas swore before, the young Centaur's restiveness is unmistakeable.

Eadoin listens carefully, as spoken words so often desert him.  He's accutely aware he's in front of dozens of warriors, his own folk, his friend Riordeg, Gellas, and Theoderic-turned-King.  Wrong action here or a lack of appropriate action could have long-term consequences the young Centaur has no basis for predicting.  For now, he holds his tongue as it seems the Lycanthopes, too, are broken up into small units.  He wonders whether the Elves and Dwarves who've pledged their support will be broken into small bands under the command of Human lords, as well.

---

Riordeg's seen well enough how a Centaur can manage with a bow and that's quite well, thank you, if his friend remembers the trip to and beyond Laodunum.  Certainly they're flesh and bone, like everyone else, and they're no less and no more flexible.  Why is it, he'd wonder, than others continue to have these absurd conceptions that Centaurs are any less capable of something than anyone else?  Heck, the "Parthian Shot" required superb riding skills of even Human archers, prior to the invention of the stirrup.

The difficult part isn't shooting over one's croup.  That's easily done.  What's hard is doing while running flat out in the opposite direction; that's a sure way to break a leg.  A broken leg during a retreat, real or feigned, would be a death sentence for one of his folk.  He'd love to see a company of Human archers trying to run forwards and shoot backwards.  It would be comedy of the slapstick sort.

But for their lack of armor and steel, the Centaurs are likely the largest and easily strongest warriors in the little army.  Heavy lancers with their close-order drill would likely not make a common appearance until the introduction of that magical step and strap.  Surely, they'd made a fine impact against Caesar's army at Carrhae, but that was far away in the exotic east where the Parthian Shot and Persian κατάφρακτοι had carried the day.  Perhaps something to discuss with the King, should an opportunity for gaining enough armor arise.

---

Later, Eadoin asks Titus for a moment of aside.  Should Titus agree, Eadoin shares his concerns.  "You've pledged your service to the King, Titus.  I'm sure he'll have work for you soon that will call upon your skills soon."  The young Centaur tries not to frown, isn't completely successful.  "This is dangerous ground for me, Titus, but it is hard to ignore how I feel.  My own folk have raised concerns over how we'll be regarded here and I do not feel I can be seen to do nothing.  My folk did not come here to have a prince in the human way, nor will I live subject to any man again as long as I draw breath, Human, Hun, or otherwise."

The young Centaur sighs out heavily, tail whisking a moment.  He's not quite blown all the way out, but mostly.  "It troubles me how to tell a lord whom I love that we are not vassals but allies, friends but not subjects.  He's given so much, so freely, in ways I can never explain the depth of to my people, but...I don't feel like my person is my own, anymore."

He looks at Titus levelly, someone who's dealt with men of power and prestige and in a variety of capacities.  "I ask you to keep my concerns in confidence, sir, but your counsel here would be appreciated."