Chapter 27: The Weight of Command
Status of Dikun Silver:
Name: Dikun Silver
Age: 21
Rank: Captain of the Silver's Warband
Reputation: Rising Leader, Slayer of Jorvik, Defender of the Innocent
Health: Healthy, Minor Exhaustion
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: Low (Grain, Meat, Water)
Weapons: Mixed (Spears, Swords, Bows)
Armor: Basic Leather and Chainmail
Morale: Moderate
Current Location: West of Torver's Hollow
Next Objective: Track Bandits, Secure Supplies, Reinforce Morale
---
After the Fire
The sun barely peeked over the horizon as the Silver's Warband moved out of the scorched village. The villagers, though weary, had expressed their gratitude through simple words and tearful nods. Dikun knew it wasn't enough.
As they rode further west, the acrid smell of smoke still lingered in the air. Some of the soldiers glanced back at the smoldering ruins, their silence heavier than any words could convey.
Revan broke the silence. "That wasn't just some rogue band of brigands. Someone sent them."
Dikun nodded, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "A distraction. Bandits rarely strike a village without purpose. They were covering their tracks."
"Tracks leading to whom?" Revan pressed.
"We'll find out," Dikun replied, his voice low. "But first, we strengthen the warband. The men are weary. They need to know that we stand for something greater than survival."
---
Discipline and Order
By midday, the warband set camp near a shallow stream. Harlon wasted no time establishing a perimeter. Soldiers collected water, tended to their mounts, and made quick repairs to their armor and weapons.
Dikun stood before the assembled men, his gaze firm. The weight of leadership pressed upon him, but he welcomed it.
"Today, we march not for gold or glory," Dikun declared, his voice carrying through the camp. "We march because no one else will. But discipline will decide whether we stand or fall."
He stepped forward, scanning their faces. "From this day, we establish ranks. Every man will know his place. Every man will know his duty."
Dikun gestured to Harlon.
"Private," Harlon began, his tone like a drumbeat. "The lowest rank. Fresh recruits, untested in battle. But even the lowliest private can rise."
"Corporal," Dikun continued. "Five men stand under you. You are their guide, their shield. You earn their respect."
"Sergeant," Harlon's voice thundered. "Ten men follow your command. You ensure order, train the weak, and lead in the thick of battle."
"Cornet," Dikun added. "You command twenty. You stand where the fighting is fiercest, and you will not falter."
"Lieutenant," Harlon said, his eyes sharp. "Forty men will look to you. You are the right hand of your captain. Victory and failure alike are your burden."
"And then there is Captain," Dikun concluded. "A captain does not rule with fear. A captain leads by example. If I fall, it will not be from a gilded throne, but beside you on the battlefield."
The men stood straighter. Dikun's words sank deep into their hearts. They weren't just a ragtag warband — they were soldiers now.
"Promotions will be earned through skill and loyalty," Dikun stated. "But titles alone mean nothing. Prove yourselves, and your brothers will follow."
A resounding shout echoed in response.
---
Training and Brotherhood
The following days were grueling. The warband trained relentlessly, perfecting shield formations and spear tactics. Harlon's booming commands kept them moving. Blades clashed, arrows thudded into targets, and sweat drenched their bodies.
Revan took to sparring with the privates, his grin ever-present. "You call that a swing? Put your back into it!"
But it wasn't just strength that Dikun wanted from his men. He drilled them on endurance — long marches with full armor, maneuvering through rugged terrain, and reacting under pressure.
One afternoon, Erwin, the young corporal, stumbled once more during shield drills. Harlon barked at him, but before he could press further, Dikun stepped in.
"Again," Dikun commanded calmly.
Erwin grit his teeth, lifting his shield. The line formed once more.
"Hold!" Dikun roared.
The force of the charging sergeants battered against their shields. This time, Erwin held firm. His legs shook, but he did not yield.
When the drill ended, Dikun clasped the young man's shoulder. "Strength comes not from never falling, but from rising each time you do."
---
Nightfall Reflections
That night, the campfires burned bright. Laughter echoed through the clearing as the men shared stories and drank from their meager supplies.
Dikun sat among them, his usual stoicism momentarily eased. Revan lounged nearby, his mug of ale half-empty.
"Y'know, Captain," Revan began, his grin wide. "If you keep inspiring the men like that, they might start thinking you're a hero."
"I'm no hero," Dikun replied. "I've simply chosen a path few dare to walk."
"Heroes rarely see themselves as such," Revan countered, raising his mug. "But the men do."
Harlon, sitting across the fire, nodded. "And when the lords come, it'll be that belief that keeps us standing."
Dikun's gaze flickered toward the stars. The road ahead would be treacherous. But in that moment, he felt the strength of the men around him — a bond forged through struggle and loyalty.
"We stand together," Dikun said softly. "And together, we'll face whatever comes."
The men raised their mugs, their voices united. "To the Silver's Warband!"
The echo of their cheer carried through the night, a defiant promise to Calradia itself.
To be continued...