Chapter 22: The Oath of the Warband
The moon hung high over Varnhold as the last embers of the village fires flickered in the dark. Dikun Silver stood before his newly gathered recruits, the worn banners of the Silver's Warband fluttering behind him.
The makeshift camp on the outskirts of the village was bustling — men sharpening blades, repairing leather armor, and tending to the wounded from Lindell. Some recruits were farmers, others disgruntled militia, and a few were deserters from noble armies. None wore the polished steel of a lord's knight.
But there was something more valuable in their eyes — resolve.
"Step forward," Dikun commanded, his voice steady.
One by one, the men approached. The firelight cast long shadows, illuminating their determined expressions.
"I do not ask for blind loyalty," Dikun began. "There are no crowns here. No lords to bow before. Only the man beside you. That is who you fight for."
The recruits nodded, some gripping the hilts of their swords with newfound purpose.
"We are the Silver's Warband. We stand against those who prey upon the weak. We fight not for gold, but for the right to choose our own path."
Dikun's eyes swept over the crowd. "Do you swear to uphold this? To fight with honor, to protect your brothers, and to stand unwavering in the face of death?"
A resounding chorus answered him.
"We swear!"
The words rang into the night, a binding oath etched in the hearts of all who spoke it.
---
Forming the Ranks
Dikun wasted no time. After the oath, he gathered his officers around a crude wooden table, a rough map of the region spread before them.
"Revan," Dikun began, his finger tracing the road leading south. "You'll take a group to scout for supplies. We'll need more grain and leather before we march."
"Aye, Captain," Revan nodded. "There's word of traders passing near the river. I'll see to it."
"Harlon," Dikun continued. "You'll oversee the recruits. Form them into units. We're no longer a wandering band. They need discipline."
Harlon's grin was grim. "They'll learn fast."
"And I'll establish the ranks," Dikun added. "We're building more than a warband now. We're building an army."
---
The Ranking System
Dikun's memories of Bannerlord served him well. His knowledge of chain-of-command and tactical formations was second nature. But in this world, there were no glowing UI markers or automated orders. Every command had to be earned.
He began with the foundation.
Private: Fresh recruits. They would start as the backbone of the warband. Simple, disciplined, and reliable.
Corporal: Five privates under one corporal. Their role was to ensure discipline, organize formations, and watch over their men.
Sergeant: Leading ten men, including two corporals. Sergeants would maintain order on the field, reacting swiftly to changing situations.
Cornet: Commanding twenty men. The rank was a symbol of experience — someone trusted to lead with tactical awareness.
Lieutenant: With two cornets under his command, a lieutenant led forty soldiers. They would be the linchpins in larger-scale operations.
Captain: Leading eighty soldiers, captains formed the pillars of the warband's strength. They commanded with authority and bore responsibility for the lives beneath them.
Dikun called the most promising men to him — those who had shown leadership during the fight at Lindell. After thorough tests of skill and grit, the ranks were formed.
Revan and Harlon were his lieutenants. Tova, though not a conventional soldier, had proven her leadership through courage and sharp thinking. She accepted the role of captain without hesitation.
The structure was in place. Now, they needed to train.
---
Drills and Discipline
"Form up!" Harlon's bark rang across the training ground. "Shield wall!"
The clatter of shields locking together echoed as the privates scrambled to position. Some wavered, the weight of their new iron shields unsteady in their hands.
"Too slow!" Harlon growled. "Your enemies won't wait for you to find your feet."
Dikun observed from the side, his arms crossed. He nodded as Harlon's voice thundered through the ranks. The recruits needed this. They needed to feel the strain, the sweat, the burn in their muscles. Only then would they understand what it meant to fight as one.
"Again!" Harlon roared.
The shield wall reformed, this time faster. Dikun's lips curled into a faint smile. Progress.
---
Words with the Men
As the sun dipped low, the day's training concluded. Fires crackled across the camp, the scent of roasting meat mingling with the evening breeze.
Dikun sat beside the largest fire, the warmth easing the ache in his muscles. A few of the men gathered around him, hesitant but curious.
"Captain," one of the younger recruits ventured, "why did you fight Jorvik? Most would have run."
Dikun's gaze softened. "Because no one else would stand for those people. Power corrupts in this world. The lords see their titles as shields — untouchable. But I see every life as worth defending."
The young man nodded slowly, his respect for Dikun growing.
Another man, a grizzled veteran with scars crisscrossing his arms, leaned forward. "And what of the nobles? They won't ignore what you've done. Killing Jorvik drew attention."
"I know," Dikun replied. "And I welcome it. Let them watch. Let them wonder."
He paused, his voice steady.
"When the time comes, we will meet them. And we will show them that men without crowns can stand just as tall."
A murmur of approval passed through the group. The Silver's Warband was no longer a ragtag gathering of survivors. They were becoming something greater — a force to be reckoned with.
And as the flames crackled and the stars illuminated the night sky, Dikun Silver knew that the road ahead would not be easy. But he would meet it head-on.
For Calradia had yet to see what the Silver's Warband could become.
To be continued...