Drilling the Troops (3)

"Lord Suleiman!" "The town ahead refuses to let us in, but it can provide us with food and supplies!" A scout bowed to Suleiman.

At present, the group had only three horses in use: one for me, one for Lushen, and one for Roslyn.

Those two now each served as the captain of a hundred-man formation, so they could only pick ten of the fastest foot soldiers to serve as scouts.

Suleiman frowned. "Did you show them Lady Roslin's seal?"

The scout replied respectfully, "I did, but they said that Wildlings are running rampant and bandits are everywhere, so they simply can't verify our identities. They ask for your understanding, my lord!"

Suleiman knew it was just an excuse, but their willingness to provide supplies was already more than they could reasonably expect.

This was already the third town. In Westeros, towns were managed by officials appointed by the lords.

How could these men fail to recognize Lady Roslin's seal?

He didn't think Lady Roslin had given them any instructions.

The town officials simply believed that as long as Valleydeep Town hadn't fallen, the war was far away, so they could stay out of it and protect themselves.

Suleiman now had to consider what to do next. Lady Roslin had authorized him to recruit the soldiers he needed throughout House Deddings' lands, whether in villages or towns.

But so far, he hadn't even entered a single town. They had all turned him away.

He let out a soft sigh, then swept his right hand out and said to Roslyn beside him, "We'll make camp here! Build fortifications! Send out plenty of scouts!"

Roslyn scratched his head. "Lord Suleiman, isn't that a bit much? We haven't even entered the war zone yet."

Suleiman glared at him. "What the hell do you know? Remember this: before you do anything, make sure you've covered every possibility!"

"Yes, sir!" Roslyn snapped to attention.

His efforts to build up his cause weren't going smoothly, and Suleiman felt thoroughly flustered.

The only thing going well was the troop he had with him.

Suleiman watched the two formations below begin making camp under Lushen and Roslyn's commands.

He had noticed that both men had serious problems with the way they led their troops.

Lushen's men stood straight, their formation orderly, but the atmosphere was oppressive. There was barely a sound.

The moment a soldier was even half a beat too slow, Lushen would lash him with the wooden switch in his hand.

And because of what had happened before, the soldiers were all terrified of him. They followed his orders to the letter, not daring to slack off in the slightest.

Roslyn's troops, on the other hand, were the complete opposite.

His formation was much more lax. The ranks were crooked, and the soldiers murmured among themselves from time to time.

Roslyn himself often joked around with them.

As a result, the formation was undisciplined.

Suleiman had seen it all, but he didn't criticize anyone.

Lushen was too strict, and Roslyn too lax.

Criticism wouldn't teach them how to do better. They had to learn through practice and reflection.

And Suleiman himself didn't know much about management.

The makeshift camp had been set up. The fire crackled, and the air was thick with the smell of food and sweat.

The soldiers sat in groups of three or five, chatting quietly or eating their rations in silence. The atmosphere was deeply oppressive.

Suleiman sat before his own fire, wiping down the Myr Sword Raymun Darry had given him. Its blade glinted coldly in the firelight.

Lushen and Roslyn came over and sat beside the fire.

"Lord Suleiman, there's something I need to report." Roslyn's voice was low, and he seemed troubled.

Suleiman stopped what he was doing and looked at him. "What is it?"

"One of the soldiers... might be planning to run away," Roslyn said.

Suleiman's gaze sharpened. "Who told you?"

"Another soldier in his rank. He was worried, so he came to tell me," Roslyn replied in a low voice. After all, it had happened in his formation.

"Where is he?" Suleiman asked gravely.

Desertion was absolutely intolerable in an army. If one man ran, another would follow, and soon it would trigger a chain reaction.

"He's still with the troops. He hasn't made a move yet." Roslyn hesitated. "My lord, should we arrest him and execute him in public?"

Suleiman was silent for a while. He didn't answer right away, then slowly asked, "Why does he want to run?"

Roslyn sighed and explained what he had learned. "The soldier's name is Toman. He's only twenty. His father was conscripted by Lord Deddings a long time ago and went with Lord Balon to defend Seaguard against the Ironborn."

"At first, there was news from him, but it's been a long, long time since the last word... He may already be dead."

"His family consists only of his mother and two young sisters. He's afraid that if he dies too, no one will look after them, and they'll starve."

He slowly rose to his feet. "Roslyn, gather your troops. Lushen, gather yours as well. Bring everyone here," Suleiman ordered.

Roslyn and Lushen immediately carried out the order.

Soon, the two groups of one hundred and fifty men had assembled in the open space at the center of the makeshift camp.

They weren't standing particularly neatly, especially in the dim light. The soldiers' murmurs weren't loud, but in the stillness of the night, they could be heard.

They didn't know why they'd been called out in the middle of the night. Many looked confused, even uneasy.

Suleiman didn't step forward. He simply stood before them, his face lit by the firelight.

Lushen and Roslyn stood behind him, their expressions stern.

Suleiman stood there, watching them, as the soldiers grew more and more uneasy.

When the moment was right, Suleiman finally spoke:

"I called you here."

"Because the vast majority of you were dragged into this."

"You don't want to be here. You want to go home."

"You're afraid of dying, afraid that if you die, no one will look after your families and they'll starve."

A low murmur ran through the ranks. His words had struck at the fear in their hearts.

That was why the troop was so oppressed. Someone sobbed softly.

"Bring out the chest! Lushen! Roslyn!" Suleiman barked.

Lushen and Roslyn carried out a large chest.

"Open it!" Suleiman said gravely.

The soldiers raised their heads, looking at Suleiman curiously. They had no idea what he was planning.

At Suleiman's command, Lushen and Roslyn carried the chest to the platform in front of the troops and opened it.

Inside was nothing but neatly stacked silver stags. In the firelight, they gleamed bright and white.

This was the recruitment fund Lady Roslin had given him. But now he had money and nowhere to recruit.

The soldiers began murmuring among themselves, unsure what this young lord intended to do.

Suleiman took a few steps forward and stood beside the chest. He looked around without expression.

"First, I want you to face the truth!"

"From the moment you were conscripted, there was no going back!"

"If you run home now, Lady Roslin will confiscate your land! And she'll have you hanged! Your families will be dragged into it too, and suffer terrible punishment!"

The soldiers' faces turned pale in the firelight. Some who had thought of fleeing trembled with fear, convinced Suleiman had found them out.

"And me!" Suleiman's voice took on a self-mocking note. "I'm just like you—all roads are closed to me!"

Suleiman needed the soldiers to feel that he stood with them and faced the same predicament. Only then could he unite them.

His voice softened, but grew more forceful:

"There's only one road before us! The only road!"

"Either we see this through, complete our mission, and make it home alive—or we die together along the way!"

He paused as the soldiers' eyes turned toward him.

"But I make you this promise! By my name, Suleiman! By the name of House Foulkeep!"

"Every one of you who dies fighting at my side—I'll provide for your family!"

"If your family's land is taken away—"

"I'll set aside the best land on my own estate for them! And build them the finest house!"

Suleiman drew his sword and pointed it at the heavens, shouting:

"Let the Seven bear witness! If I break this oath, may Dragonfire consume me and my line be wiped out!" His oath rang across the camp.