“What about fucking our wives?” someone called out.
“If she’s into it, sure. If not, guess you’ll all get really friendly.” Ieduin replied, drawing out a few snickers and hoots of laughter. “I know you think you’re not soldiers. Eight months out of the year, you’re out there breaking your backs on your farms, tending to your sheep, raising your families, and yes, fucking your wives. But not anymore. From now until Greymark is free, or until we are all dead, youaresoldiers. I don’t give one fat fuck if you like me or my methods. I wasn’t sent here to be your friend. I was sent here to train you to fight, and that’s what I’m going to do.
“When Trinta comes crawling over those hills, they won’t be coming for a harvest feast. They’re coming to kill your sons, rape your daughters, and burn your way of life to the ground. They think they’re marching on a thousand stupid, unarmed potato farmers. Are they?”
The answer from the men was less than committal.
“Are they?” he asked again, raising his voice.
This time, the answer was a loud roar of disapproval, with several shouting, “No,” and “Fuck Trinta!” Some of them spat in the dirt.
“What are you?”
“Soldiers,” came the rallying cry along with the stomping of feet and pounding of fists against chests.
Ieduin turned to Rixxis, who’d come down to join him, grinning. “I don’t know about you, but I’d be pretty terrified if I were Trinta.”
“If Trinta’s army was only twelve hundred strong, maybe,” she replied. “Which we know it’s not.”
“The Crows will fill the gap,” he promised and waved the Crows down from the wall.
The Crows spread out, one to each line of Greymark’s men to take command. As the lines broke up, each unit following a Crow to a different area in or around the castle, Rowan came down from his perch above.
“Walk with me,” the king said to Ieduin. He didn’t wait for Ieduin, either. Just took off.
Ieduin scrambled to catch him before he got too far.
“I’m surprised they took so well to your speech,” Rowan said as they passed by a group lining up to have their weapons inspected. “Greymarkers are notoriously stubborn and historically reject most attempts at rallying under an outsider.”
Ieduin shrugged. “Maybe they can relate. I’m a stubborn outsider myself.”
“Perhaps.” They walked past one of Rowan’s blacksmiths, who was in a heated argument with a woman about a horseshoe. “Tell me, how will you train them to work with the Crows?”
“I handpicked the twenty captains myself,” Ieduin said. “A few of them are familiar with Greymark. The rest have some experience as farmhands or related work. I thought it would be good if they all had something in common.”
“Hmm. Smart boy,” Rowan said in a low voice that left Ieduin blushing.
He cleared his throat. “The Crows will spend the day assessing their assigned unit’s strengths and weaknesses, and I’ll have a report by the end of the day. Once I have some idea of where your people are, I’ll develop a proper training regimen. Until then, they’ll be on rotations of marching, formations, sparring, and manual labor using the list of tasks you gave me. They’ll be moving through all of it as units with their respective Crows, and I plan to rotate more through so they get to know a few of them. That’ll promote a sense of unity, which should make it less of an us versus them situation.”
“We can win this?”
Ieduin stopped, prompting Rowan to do the same. “Is that in doubt?”
The king sighed and lowered his head. “Trinta is the superior force with every advantage. I’ve only been a king for a few weeks. I’m still learning to run my kingdom, let alone how to inspire troops.”
“Speaking of that, I had a look at your books last night. Never let Gallaway touch them again.”
A small spark of pride ignited in Ieduin’s chest as Rowan laughed. It was nice to know he could easily pull him out of that melancholy mood he’d been on the edge of, doubting his ability to lead. Rowan was a good king who cared about his people. Time and experience would take care of the rest.
They started walking again, making their way around the large courtyard.
“About Dagh Cairn.” The way he drew it out, Ieduin knew it was a sore point.
He could overrule Ewan, but if Rowan told him not to go forward with his plan, he’d have to listen. Frustrating as it was, Rowan was his employer.
“Ewan raised objections,” Ieduin acknowledged. “Ethical ones, which I understand. Necromancy’s always a touchy subject in any culture, but you’ve got to understand, Rowan, that the other side is going to use it. Our best defense is to field one of our own and use it, too.”
“It is an especially tender subject for both Ewan and me. We both have loved ones who’ve been laid to rest out there. It’s painful to think of them being used, even to further Greymark’s goals. And we’re not the only ones. Many families have blood ties to the people buried there.”