Chapter 45: Strength in Brotherhood
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: Determined
Status of Silver's Warband:
Total Soldiers: 93 (Five soldiers wounded, two in critical condition)
Ranks:
63 Privates (Bronze Triangle Insignia)
20 Corporals (Crossed Triangles Insignia)
8 Sergeants (Crimson Belt and Pyramid Insignia)
2 Lieutenants (Silver-Trimmed Cloak and Silver Star Insignia: 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: Fortify Rithgar, gather resources, and scout the surrounding lands.
---
Morning Preparations
The sun crept over the distant hills, casting a golden hue over the village of Rithgar. The rhythmic pounding of hammers echoed from the blacksmith's forge, where Barrek and his apprentices toiled. The smell of burning coal mixed with the crisp morning air.
Dikun Silver stood near the training ground, observing as the warband continued their drills. Despite the soreness from the previous day's training, the men moved with renewed focus.
Revan approached, his silver-trimmed cloak swaying gently. "The men are improving, Captain. The corporals are learning to manage their squads efficiently."
"They've adapted well," Dikun replied, though his gaze remained sharp. "But discipline isn't forged in a day. We'll need more than routine drills to harden them."
Revan nodded. "The threat of Varrin's return lingers. Fear can drive men to grow faster."
"Fear alone won't keep them standing," Dikun said, his voice low. "They need pride. Purpose. Something worth defending."
---
Fortifications and Duty
Dikun gathered the corporals and sergeants, outlining their next task.
"Rithgar is vulnerable," he began, unfurling a rough map across a wooden table. "The enemy will see our victory as defiance. They will return, and we must be ready."
He pointed to the eastern side of the village. "We'll raise a palisade. The villagers will assist, but our men will lead the effort."
"Captain," Sergeant Harlon spoke, his massive arms crossed. "What of scouts? We cannot build blindly."
"Agreed," Dikun replied. "Revan, take a squad and patrol the eastern hills. I want to know the moment Varrin's banners are spotted."
Revan inclined his head. "Consider it done."
The lieutenants saluted, and the corporals dispersed to organize their men. Dikun remained at the table, the weight of leadership heavy upon him. Every decision could mean life or death.
---
Conversations Among the Ranks
Later that day, Dikun walked along the half-constructed palisade, the sound of axes biting into wood filling the air. He paused as a group of soldiers worked together, driving sharpened logs into the ground.
"Good work," Dikun remarked, his tone even. "Every wall we raise buys us time."
A corporal named Garlen straightened, sweat dripping from his brow. "Captain, I've never built a wall before. But if this keeps Varrin's men out, I'll build it twice as high."
Dikun nodded. "That's the spirit. But remember, walls can only delay the enemy. Our strength will decide the battle."
The men exchanged resolute glances.
Nearby, Harlon barked orders to another group, ensuring the stakes were aligned. "Dig deep, lads! We don't want these logs toppling at the first push!"
Despite the gruff tone, there was a sense of camaraderie. The warband was no longer a scattered band of survivors — they were building something.
---
At the Mess Tent
As night fell, the soldiers gathered around the flickering campfires. The mess tent buzzed with laughter and conversation. The day's labor had been exhausting, but spirits remained high.
Dikun sat with Revan and Harlon, their mugs of watered ale clinking together.
"Captain," Revan began, his voice low. "There's a rumor among the men. They speak of the noblewoman from the feast — Lady Evelyne."
Dikun's brow furrowed slightly. He hadn't forgotten the noblewoman who had caught his eye. Her elegance and fiery spirit were unlike the noblewomen he had encountered before.
"She left an impression," Dikun admitted. "But our path leads to war, not courtship."
"Perhaps," Revan said with a faint smile. "But even a captain needs a reason to fight. Men fight harder when they have something to return to."
Harlon chuckled. "Or someone."
Dikun shook his head, though a trace of amusement flickered in his eyes. "Enough. We'll speak of banners and blades, not noble hearts."
But as the laughter continued, Dikun couldn't shake the lingering thoughts of Lady Evelyne.
---
A Quiet Resolve
Before retiring to his tent, Dikun walked the perimeter of the village. The stars gleamed above, a silent testament to the vastness of the world he now called home.
In the distance, the dark silhouettes of the unfinished palisade stood firm. It was not much, but it was a start.
"Captain."
He turned to find Harlon approaching, his expression solemn.
"The men believe in you," Harlon said. "They would follow you into the jaws of death."
"They follow because they have no other choice," Dikun replied quietly.
"No," Harlon countered, his voice resolute. "They follow because you give them hope. And when the time comes, they will fight not for survival — but for you."
Dikun said nothing, but the words settled within him.
He would not fail them.
The Silver's Warband would stand.
To be continued...