Chapter 42: Mark of the Ranks
Status of Dikun Silver:
Name: Dikun Silver
Age: 21
Rank: Captain of the Silver's Warband
Reputation: Defender of Rithgar, Rising Leader, Potential Ally of House Carlin
Health: Slightly Wounded (Minor Cut on Left Arm)
Equipment: Steel Longsword, Reinforced Chainmail, Leather Cloak
Mount: Brown Destrier
Morale: Steady
Status of Silver's Warband:
Total Soldiers: 93 (Five soldiers wounded, two in critical condition)
Ranks:
63 Privates
20 Corporals
8 Sergeants
2 Lieutenants (Revan, Harlon)
Supplies: Limited (Grain, Dried Meat, Water)
Weapons: Mixed (Spears, Swords, Bows)
Armor: Basic Leather and Chainmail
Morale: Stable
Current Location: Rithgar Village
Next Objective: Establish rank-identifying equipment, recruit more men, and strengthen defenses
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The Morning After
The rising sun cast a pale light over the battered village of Rithgar. The cries of the wounded had quieted, though the scars of the battle remained. Dikun stood at the village square, watching as his soldiers moved about, tending to tasks with grim determination.
Despite the victory, the warband was ragged. Many soldiers still wore blood-streaked leather, while others patched up damaged armor with whatever scraps they could find. Weapons were chipped, shields splintered.
Dikun knew something had to change.
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A Leader's Vision
"Captain," Revan approached, his expression expectant. "The men are restless. They know Varrin's forces will return. We need to give them something to hold onto."
Dikun nodded. "We will." He turned, gazing at the blacksmith's hut, smoke rising from its chimney. "It's time our ranks were made clear."
Revan frowned slightly. "You mean…?"
"I mean no man should question who he fights beside," Dikun answered. "They'll know their leaders by sight."
---
The Forge Awakens
Inside the humble smithy, the village blacksmith, a grizzled man named Barrek, wiped soot from his hands as Dikun entered. The forge crackled, glowing embers illuminating the darkened workshop.
"You fought well, Barrek," Dikun said with a nod. "And now I need your skill once more."
The smith straightened, his thick arms crossed. "What do you need, Captain?"
"Armor. Not for protection alone, but for identity," Dikun explained. "Each rank will have its own mark. Something visible — simple, but clear."
Barrek nodded slowly, considering. "Aye. I can manage that. But we'll need resources."
"I'll see that you have them," Dikun assured him. "Now, listen carefully."
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Designing the Ranks
Dikun's system of rank-based equipment was clear and efficient:
Privates: The base rank. They would wear a simple leather tunic with a small bronze insignia stitched to the shoulder — a single triangle, symbolizing their foundational role.
Corporals: Slightly better equipped, corporals would receive reinforced leather armor with an additional bronze shoulder guard. Their insignia would be two crossing triangles.
Sergeants: As battlefield leaders, they would wear chainmail over their leather armor, marked with three triangles forming a pyramid. A crimson cloth belt would signify their authority.
Cornets: Officers responsible for commanding groups of twenty. They would be gifted steel-plated shoulder guards and a polished chestplate engraved with their insignia — a silver-bordered shield with a single diagonal slash.
Lieutenants: Leading forty men, lieutenants would wear a distinct half-cloak with silver trim. Their chestplates would bear a silver star engraved upon the center, a symbol of their elevated authority.
Captain: Dikun himself would wear a reinforced chainmail coat lined with a dark blue cloak, the color of his warband. His insignia — a silver wolf's head — would be carved into his chestplate.
"Once they wear their rank," Dikun said, his voice firm, "they'll stand taller. Knowing who leads them and who follows will make them stronger."
Barrek nodded. "I'll start at once."
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Addressing the Warband
By midday, Dikun called his men to gather in the village square. The wounded sat among their comrades, listening intently. The air was thick with anticipation.
"My brothers," Dikun began, his voice steady. "Yesterday, you fought not as scattered soldiers, but as one. You proved your strength. But strength alone will not win the battles ahead."
He gestured toward the smithy, where Barrek's apprentices worked tirelessly. "We are no mere band of fighters. We are a warband. And every man must know his place upon the field."
The soldiers murmured, exchanging glances.
"From this day, we fight with purpose and order. You will earn your rank, and with it, the responsibility that comes with leadership. Every insignia you wear will not only mark your station — it will be a mark of your worth."
The men stood straighter, pride igniting in their eyes.
"And know this," Dikun continued. "The battlefield shows no mercy. But together, we are stronger. Together, we will defy those who would see us fall."
A resounding cheer erupted. The sound echoed across the village, fierce and unyielding.
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First Steps Forward
With the forge burning bright and the smith's hammer ringing through the air, the ranks of the Silver's Warband began to take shape.
Privates helped craft their own leather tunics, while corporals stood proudly as their insignias were etched into their armor. The sergeants bore their crimson belts with stoic pride. Revan and Harlon, as lieutenants, wore their silver-trimmed cloaks for the first time.
Dikun watched it all, the faintest hint of satisfaction flickering across his face.
This was only the beginning.
To be continued...