Thanks Oddey.
Chapter 7
Once the sergeant had been called to the officers room for a briefing by Smivey and William, he left and descended the stairs, a little dumbfounded. The outlaws had been quick and sly to get this close to the town before being noticed by scouts. And now it was time for him to organise the men of Haydurg, ready for battle.
Sergeant Duncan Smith was a very experienced soldier, and had risen through the ranks the hard way; by surviving on the field of war, proving his ability to lead troops and outmanoeuvre enemy units. But he wasn't as fit as he used to be.
He entered the courtyard from the stone section of the barracks and rang a bell hanging from a stand, which called all troops in the barracks to arms.
Sergeant Duncan looked on rather disapprovingly as Haydurg's soldiers unenthusiastically filled into the courtyard and lined themselves up, messily. He was halfway through shouting the corporal when he remembered he was in Collern. He sighed and walked to the front of the unit, then filtering through the ranks, counting the men.
Once he had finished he shouted “We have 57 men. Where's the other bloke?”
“Gareth died last night, sir.” One of the men shouted.
“Oh.” Duncan said, already moving towards the front again, not caring about how he died. “Okay men, I just received word from the captain and sheriff that outlaws have hidden themselves in the wood just to our East, and are planning to attack. Its our job to ensure they do no such thing, so check your weapons and seek the storeroom if they are damaged or broken, we leave at the captain's say so.”
The soldiers murmured to themselves, and the sergeant could tell they were not happy about going into battle on such short notice. Duncan noticed this and decided to tell them that the captain would be joining them. It seemed to raise morale.
“Alright, when I ring the bell, I want you lot to form up here as quick as possible, none of that pissing about like you did earlier. Then we'll march for these scum bags to the East. Dismissed.” Duncan didn't think it a good idea to tell them the intricacies of the battle, and that there was a second unit of outlaws to the West that was going to be ambushed by the fairly new corporal; it could sway their minds from battle.
Johnson heard what the sergeant said as he stood amongst the troops, and felt that shiver of fear run through him like it always did just before battle. Once the sergeant had dismissed them he made his way to the storeroom with a few other soldiers to see if he could route out a better sword.
There was a few other men in the room, sorting through tables of old weapons and looking at the items hanging on the walls. He knew one of them; Bill. He was slightly younger than Johnson but looked a lot older due to his raw-looking face and numerous missing teeth.
“How are you, Bill?” Johnson asked as he began to filter through the weapons on the table top.
“Not too bad, Johnny. Bit of a shock, aint it?” Bill replied, picking up a wooden Heater shield with the Monarchy's symbol calved into the front. “I cant even say goodbye to my woman.”
“Same with me and my kid. And I've gotta fight with
this.” Johnson said, holding up his crippled hand.
Bill looked at it, frowning. “Broken?”
“It sounded like it when the bloody carriage rolled over it.” Johnson answered, looking at a spiked-ball flail.
Bill was happy with his shield and left the storeroom, patting Johnson on the shoulder as he left, saying “I'll stick close to yeh.”
Johnson gave up and decided to stick with his old sword.