The drill-captain marched up and down the line of soldiers. When he reached the end of the line, he shouted a command. The soldiers responded, their axes falling into the air, demonstrating the correct slashing motion of the weapon. Pleased, the captain corrected the posture of several of the soldiers, and indicated for them to drop their shield and hand-axe. Opening a wooden box nearby him, the officer began to dole out battle-axes to the soldiers.
Well, fake approximations. He ordered for the exercise to begin. The soldiers broke from their line, and spread out across the ground. Raising their wooden practice-axes above them, they began a mock battle. Laughing, some of them began speaking in Farrmarchic accents, or the low droll of the Pictaelic language.
Green recruits, these men had not yet tasted the sting of battle, nor would they in all likelihood. The war had ended, only months before they were to take the front lines. There had been mixed emotions; relief, anger, a feeling of being cheated. Many of them had hoped to prove themselves on the field of battle, but were robbed of the chance. Others felt that they had been saved by the Gods from a sure death. Whatever the case, they were now reserve, and if they were to go to battle, it would at best be a small House dispute.
Indeed, they would be lucky if it were. The provincial armies of the Houses came with estates and a claim to a House, and thus, a place in Albionic politics. In the Royal Army, the best they could hope for if they did not rise up in the ranks, was a station for eight years in the mines, or in the north. Thus, they drilled and learnt as much as they could.
At present, the ongoing exercise was implemented in the Lorenn Barracks Grounds. Beyond the small walls of the barracks rose the towers of that city, and the familial homes of many of the soldiers stationed within the barracks' walls.
Each evening, with the fall of the sun and dusk, a patrol of three would ascend a section of the city walls, and keep a silent and dark vigil throughout the night. Normally, these vigils were anything but vigilant. The need for them had long passed, since most of the indigenous nomads that resided near Lorenn had long ago been exterminated, and most believed that Lorenn would never suffer an assault from an actual military force.
Therefore, the watchmen were known to draw. In the guard-towers that were fitted at points in the walls, there were stones that had been doused in ink or dye. These paintings were not punished by the garrison officials, no one truly cared enough, but there was a general clandestine feeling about the act and despite its familiarity with the sentries, it was mostly kept secret.
Unfortunately for some of the artists, who were on duty at the time of the Albion-Farrmarch Wars, they would not be wrested from the Royal Army to serve in a House division, or as an artist for a lord or lady. Most of them in that time period, would march out with their colleagues to paint the grass red.
Really looking forward to this week's update. What with everyone expanding outward... Zee plot, it is sure to theekehn.
