Chapter 30: Rumors of Blood and Steel
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
Equipment: Steel Longsword, Reinforced Chainmail, Leather Cloak
Mount: Brown Destrier
Morale: High
Status of Silver's Warband:
Total Soldiers: 98 (Two soldiers wounded from the last battle)
Ranks:
68 Privates
20 Corporals
8 Sergeants
2 Lieutenants (Revan, Harlon)
Supplies: Moderate (Grain, Dried Meat, Water, and Ale)
Weapons: Mixed (Spears, Swords, Bows)
Armor: Basic Leather and Chainmail
Morale: High
Current Location: West of Torver's Hollow
Next Objective: Gather Intelligence on Lord Varrin, Forge Alliances, Secure Trade Routes
---
The Path Ahead
The early morning sun peeked over the treetops, casting long shadows across the muddy road. The Silver's Warband had broken camp at dawn, the air filled with the rhythmic clanking of armor and the steady march of boots.
Dikun Silver rode at the head of the column, his expression stoic. His thoughts lingered on Lord Varrin — the serpent who dared to stain his warband's name with cowardly banditry. Yet, the time for revenge would come. For now, his men needed to be stronger.
Revan pulled his horse alongside Dikun, his usual grin subdued. "Any word from the scouts?"
"Not yet," Dikun replied, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "They're tracking Varrin's movements. We'll know soon enough."
"And the men?"
"They're steady. But steady won't be enough when the banners of lords rise against us."
Revan chuckled. "Then we sharpen our steel and train until they're more than steady."
---
Morning Training
By midday, the warband reached a wide clearing. Dikun called for a halt, and the men began setting up temporary camp. Despite their recent victories, he knew discipline would determine their survival.
"Sergeants!" Dikun barked, his voice cutting through the chatter. "Form your squads. Every man trains today. No exceptions."
Harlon's gruff voice followed, reinforcing the order. The soldiers scrambled into position, their shields clanging as they readied themselves.
Dikun paced before them, his eyes narrowing. "You think a sword in your hand makes you a soldier?" His tone was sharp. "A soldier endures. A soldier adapts. A soldier never breaks. Today, you prove it."
The day was merciless. Shield walls locked, spears thrust, and the dull thud of training swords echoed through the clearing. Dikun moved between the ranks, offering corrections and commanding adjustments.
Erwin, the young corporal, gritted his teeth as he took blow after blow. His shield wavered, but he held firm.
"Good," Dikun said, his voice low. "But remember — a shield is not only to block. It's a weapon. Strike. Push. Break their stance."
Erwin nodded, sweat dripping from his brow. With newfound resolve, he drove his shield forward, sending his opponent stumbling. A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
---
A Soldier's Doubt
After the training concluded, the men gathered around the campfires, their bodies aching but their spirits lifted. Dikun sat beneath a lone tree, sharpening his sword. The rhythmic scrape of steel against stone brought a sense of calm.
It wasn't long before Revan joined him, tossing a waterskin his way. "The men are toughening up. Even Erwin's starting to look like he belongs."
Dikun nodded, though his thoughts remained distant. "But belonging isn't enough. Not when lords like Varrin see us as nothing more than upstarts."
Revan leaned back, staring at the sky. "Then we stop being upstarts. We become something they fear."
Dikun's gaze hardened. "Fear alone isn't enough. Respect — that's what we'll earn."
---
The Merchant's Offer
The next morning, as the warband prepared to move, a small caravan approached from the eastern road. Four guards flanked a heavily laden wagon, their rusted weapons revealing their lack of professionalism.
The merchant leading them dismounted, a portly man with a sweat-streaked face. He adjusted his ill-fitting tunic, forcing a smile. "Greetings, good sirs! Might I offer a proposal to the famed Silver's Warband?"
Revan smirked. "We're listening."
"I deal in grain, salt, and cloth. But the roads grow dangerous. Bandits, taxes, you know how it is. However, with the protection of your noble warband, I can offer a fair share of my profits. You gain gold, I gain safety."
Dikun studied the merchant, his eyes narrowing. "And what makes you think we won't simply take what we need?"
The merchant paled. "B-Because you're not common brigands. Your reputation precedes you, Captain Silver."
Dikun remained silent for a moment before responding. "We'll escort you to the next town. But know this — if your dealings betray us, no gold will save you."
The merchant nodded vigorously. "Understood, Captain. Understood."
---
The Road to Power
With the merchant's caravan in tow, the Silver's Warband continued their march. Whispers of Dikun's name grew louder in every village they passed. Some saw him as a protector, others as a dangerous rogue.
But Dikun didn't seek their approval. Not yet.
That night, as the fires burned low, Harlon approached. "We'll need more than a few merchants to stand against a lord. You're thinking about alliances, aren't you?"
Dikun nodded. "Not just any alliances. Strong ones. The kind that tip the scales."
"And who do you have in mind?"
"A knight's title is the first step," Dikun said, his voice firm. "We rise through the ranks. Knight. Baron. Viscount. Until no one questions our strength."
Harlon grinned. "Then let's make sure Calradia remembers the name Silver."
The road ahead would be fraught with blood and betrayal. But Dikun welcomed it. For in this world of war and ambition, only the strongest could carve their place.
And Dikun Silver would see his name etched in history.
To be continued...