Chapter 25: The Road to Strength
Status of Dikun Silver:
Name: Dikun Silver
Age: 21
Rank: Captain of the Silver's Warband
Reputation: Rising Leader, Slayer of Jorvik
Health: Healthy, Slight Fatigue
Equipment: Steel Longsword, Reinforced Chainmail, Leather Cloak
Mount: Brown Destrier
Morale: Steady
Status of Silver's Warband:
Total Soldiers: 100
Ranks:
70 Privates
20 Corporals
8 Sergeants
2 Lieutenants (Revan, Harlon)
Supplies: Moderate (Grain, Meat, Water)
Weapons: Mixed (Spears, Swords, Bows)
Armor: Basic Leather and Chainmail
Morale: High
Current Location: Torver's Hollow
Next Objective: Expand Warband, Secure Resources, Scout Lord Varrin's Movement
---
The Morning After
Dikun Silver awoke before the first light of dawn. The pale blue sky hinted at the coming sun, but the air still held the chill of night. The camp stirred slowly, the crackle of embers and the rhythmic sharpening of blades breaking the silence.
As captain, sleep never lasted long. Responsibility weighed heavily on his shoulders, and with the news of Lord Varrin and Lady Elira's mobilization, every passing moment felt precious.
Dikun pulled his cloak tighter as he stepped through the rows of tents. Soldiers nodded respectfully as he passed. Many still bore the marks of Lindell, faint bruises and hastily patched cuts. But despite the lingering pain, their morale held firm.
Revan was already awake, leaning against a makeshift training dummy, his arms crossed. His ever-present grin tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Couldn't sleep?" Dikun asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Not with rumors of lords breathing down our necks," Revan replied. "But worry isn't what kept me up."
Dikun arched a brow.
"The men," Revan continued. "They talk about you, Dikun. You're no longer just a captain to them. You're a symbol. They believe in you."
"That belief can be dangerous," Dikun said. "It makes them fight harder, yes. But it also makes their losses weigh heavier."
Revan's grin faded. "And what about you? How much of that weight can you carry?"
"As much as I must," Dikun replied, his voice unwavering.
---
Training the New Recruits
The day's drills began at first light. Harlon's booming voice echoed across the field as the recruits scrambled into formation. Their shields clashed together, forming a rough approximation of a shield wall. Sweat dripped down their brows as they strained against the weight of their gear.
"Hold the line!" Harlon barked. "You're not farmers anymore. You're soldiers!"
Dikun observed from a distance, his arms crossed. He watched how the men moved — their stances, their reactions. Some faltered, their movements sluggish. Others stood firm, eyes burning with determination.
One recruit, a young man barely older than nineteen, stumbled. His shield slipped from his grasp, crashing to the ground. Harlon growled, advancing toward him.
"Pick it up!" Harlon roared. "Or do you think the enemy will wait while you fumble like a fool?"
The recruit scrambled to retrieve his shield, his face flushed with embarrassment. Dikun stepped forward before Harlon could press further.
"What's your name?" Dikun asked.
The young man swallowed hard. "E-Erwin, Captain."
"Erwin," Dikun repeated. "When fear grips you, what will you do?"
"I… I don't know," Erwin stammered.
Dikun's gaze hardened. "You'll stand. You'll grit your teeth, and you'll hold that shield like your life depends on it. Because it will."
Erwin nodded, though the doubt lingered in his eyes.
"Again," Dikun commanded. "And this time, show me why you chose to stand among us."
The shield wall reformed. This time, Erwin stood firm.
---
Gathering Intelligence
That evening, as the fires crackled and the warband rested, Dikun called for a council. Revan, Harlon, and a few chosen sergeants gathered around a crude map spread over a flat wooden table.
"The messenger said Varrin is marching," Dikun began, his finger tracing the map. "Sargoth lies to the north. His banners will likely gather along the river, cutting a clear path through the villages."
"And Lady Elira?" Revan asked.
"She's more cautious," Dikun replied. "Curaw's forces are disciplined, but she won't move without certainty. That gives us time."
Harlon's scowl deepened. "Time to do what? Fight two lords at once?"
"No," Dikun said firmly. "We'll fight with information. We don't have the numbers for open battle. But we can strike where they are weak."
He pointed to a small cluster of villages. "Their supply lines. Varrin's men will need food, water, and rest. We'll cut them off before they reach the front."
The sergeants exchanged determined nods.
"I'll lead the scouts," Revan offered. "We'll map their movements. You'll know when and where to strike."
"Good," Dikun said. "But be careful. The lords will expect resistance. I won't lose good men to reckless pride."
Revan smirked. "When have I ever been reckless?"
Dikun's stern expression didn't waver. "Every day since I've known you."
The table erupted with laughter, but beneath the humor, the weight of their task remained.
---
A Leader's Burden
Long after the council had dispersed, Dikun remained by the dwindling fire. He traced his fingers over the edges of the map, thoughts racing. Every choice he made altered the path of his men. Every step brought them closer to the inevitable clash with the lords of Calradia.
But as the embers glowed, so too did the resolve in his heart.
He would not falter.
The Silver's Warband was no longer a name whispered in passing. It was a force — a family. And Dikun Silver would lead them, through blood and fire, until Calradia itself was reshaped.
"Tomorrow," Dikun murmured to himself, "we march."
To be continued...