Chapter 3 – Persona

“Be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of the opponent’s fate.”

– Wu Changqing, 1st Sun General, Dawn Imperium

 

Luna squirmed uncomfortably as she leaned against Konstantin. The saddle was not meant to seat two people, and the forward swell was annoying in how it dug into her bottom. Her long skirt forced her to sit sideways and… while she did not doubt the young lord’s equestrian skills, her questionable balance and the distance between her feet and solid ground made her anxieties flutter.

Four days had passed since Konstantin’s meeting with Aleksandr before he found an opportunity to leave the estate without suspicion.

“I heard the town of Arbuzynka is hosting an open harvest festival this year,” he had told the Steward that morning. “I’ll be riding there to have a look today.”

“It’s just the ploy of some peasant village to attract more merchants,” Vitomir had downplayed the event.

“Maybe. But it might also be fun! So I’ll be away today. And I’ll be taking Luna with me.”

Nobody could object to Konstantin riding out for a day of leisure. After all, the young baron had a reputation as a hedonist. His top aspirations were considered to be gambling, women, and horses, though not necessarily in that order.

His demand for Luna to come along did raise an eyebrow though, since the girl didn’t know how to ride. That skepticism lasted until Konstantin pulled the petite maid onto his mount, where she sat between his arms. Her discomfort, combined with her total naivety in the saddle, meant that her only recourse was to lean into his chest and hang onto him.

Konstantin did not show any sign that this was unwelcome. He even took a moment to rub his chin against her soft, fluffy hair. His arm holding onto the reins also gave her waist a light squeeze.

The other servants who watched his departure all looked upon the master with knowing eyes, as if blandly commenting: ‘so that’s what he was aiming for’.

“We’re off!” Konstantin announced to the Steward at last as he whipped the reins, instantly spurring his thoroughbred mount into galloping motion.

Luna squealed as the sudden acceleration came without any warning. The galloping rhythm also made her bounce up and down on the saddle’s protruding front swell, which was the very opposite of security and comfort. Her thin arms instinctively squeezed around Konstantin’s chest as his steed charged out of the estate, as though she was hanging on for dear life.

A broad grin spread across Konstantin’s face as his left arm tightened around the back of her waist:

“That was adorable. I should do that more often.”

Luna’s entire face flushed scarlet as she realized just what she did and how unlike her it was. She hadn’t screamed since the aftermath of the Iskar War when the soldiers caught her, or at least… she almost never did. It was the behavior of naive girls who weren’t taught any better, the idiotic promotion of a society that found helpless damsels acceptable and even attractive.

She was better than that!

Evidently not, a voice nagged from the back of her mind.

Her fingers tightened against his cashmere coat as she held on atop the galloping horse. She then tried to restore her composure before protesting her annoyance:

“Lecherous scoundrel.”

Yet despite her best attempt to sound stern, the words still came out shaky and in her usual soft and airy voice. They only fueled his elated grin as he urged the horse on further.

…

“So what did Your Lordship actually want me to come along for?” Luna asked some time later, after Konstantin had slowed his horse to a modest canter.

“Mmmh?” The young lord mused. His gaze dipped down to meet hers. Those mercurial, emerald-green orbs reflected a childish and fun-loving light.

“No reason,” he smirked. “I just wanted some company for the long ride…”

Luna knew that most lords would have found such interaction with their servant inappropriate. Even if she was officially a slave of intimate nature, there was no reason for her to ride in the same saddle as him in public! But the way he dragged her along today…

Is he feeling lonely after Kalyna’s departure? She couldn’t help but ask herself.

“–That, and your skirt was a perfect hiding place for those bags,” he snickered, sinking any pleasant mood that might have stayed adrift.

Before she left his room this morning, Konstantin had laid out three flattened canvas sacks that were shut tight. They weren’t bulky, but they were large enough that he’d have trouble hiding them. Therefore, he ordered Luna to stand still, while he reached under her ankle-length skirt and attached them to its inside.

It would easily rank as one of the most embarrassing acts any young girl might have to endure, if only Luna hadn’t been subjected to far worse in the past by others.

“What’s in those bags anyway?” She asked.

She was familiar enough with the concept of enchanted, ‘extradimensional space’ that she knew appearances were often deceiving. When it came to magical containers, the length and width of the package — especially that of the opening — mattered far more than its volume in dictating what it could carry.

It was as though magic folded space to the point where ‘depth’ vanished, with ‘weight’ disappearing alongside.

“I think you’re sitting on about a squadron’s worth of weapons right now,” Konstantin replied. “plus a small pile of silver rubles.”

Luna shivered. The idea that she was smuggling several hundred axes, arrows, and crossbows under her skirt was not a pleasant thought.

“How did you get that many?”

“This?” He patted her lap. “Merely a fraction of what I have. I’ve been secretly buying up weapons from just across the border and smuggling them back into my own home for years. And the spare gold comes from all those times I over-exaggerated my expenses and gambling losses, like when I bought you.” A smirk spread across his face as he added: “the trick, of course, is to make a huge fuss about it every time I lost, then fume about how I didn’t win back enough when luck swung back to my side. People’s memories have a selective bias for drama, and this way even those spying on me will think I lost far more than I did.”

He then rubbed her lap in a way that’s hardly appropriate. Luna shivered slightly at the sensation but otherwise made no protest; her mind barely even took heed of the behavior.

“It’s a rather attractive hoard, you know,” he added.

“What am I, a drake?”

“You’d be a very cute drake to summon,” Konstantin chuckled, before he looked up through the trees at the distant sky and took a long pause.

“You know, I’ve always wanted a Zmey Gorynych drake for a familiar. Dreamed of it even, when I was a boy.” He spoke with a sense of awe in his voice, alongside the lingering traces of hero worship. “The Chosen of Zirnitra is the most elite military order in Polisia, and their Shturmovik drake riders are considered the best of the best.”

“Then why did Your Lordship never try to summon a familiar?” Luna asked.

Konstantin frowned at first, then scowled.

“Inconvenience? Taking care of a familiar can be a great responsibility — depending on the results of the summoning — and that just doesn’t work with my other persona at all…”

He took another long pause, plus a deep breath.

“And maybe apprehension as well,” he admitted. “After all, the summoning ritual is supposed to give a mage their partner, a critter that not only fits their personality but also the path they expect to tread. Well, what if I received a repugnant and despicable beast?” His voice then fell far away: “or worse… something totally insignificant, like a snow hare.”

“Hey,” Luna tilted her head up and stared at him with a frown. “I like snow bunnies.”

She adored them as a young girl, actually. Her mother used to joke that she must have been a rabbit in a past life.

Konstantin chuckled as his gloved hand ruffled her white hair.

“For you, that may be enough…”

Luna pouted at the condescending way he put it. But at the same time, she couldn’t really think of a retort. All she wanted, growing up, was to have a nice, quiet life. It was almost a universal desire among Samarans, based on what she knew.

‘You Samarans are the most unadventurous people I’ve ever met.‘ She remembered how her father once chuckled and ruffled her hair in much the same way; and he, as a trader of the Inner Sea Imperium, had traveled across the whole of Hyperion continent.

She closed her moistening eyes as nostalgia rose in her chest. Instead of peace, her family had received the opposite. Her life had been turned upside down ever since the Iskar War, and it had never recovered since.

“But for me?” Konstantin wasn’t paying attention to her as he switched to his best foreboding voice: “oh great seer, please tell me when I might attain the strength to exact revenge for my brutally slaughtered family! Please tell me what the Gods have in plan for me! What? What did you see for my future? A rabbit!?”

Luna couldn’t help it as her cheeks first swelled, then burst into a laugh.

“Is it really that bad?” She wiped a tear off the corner of her eye. “To simply live a relaxing life?”

“For me? Yes. It is.” The young lord asserted. “I’m the direct male descendant to one of the founders of Polisia, one of the four Great Houses that the Veche Assembly of Ilmen must elect a Grand Prince from. I was raised to lead men, be it into reforms or into combat! Not lay back and relax and watch the snow fall outside.”

The petite girl sitting between his arms smiled as she slowly relaxed.

It couldn’t be helped. Their upbringing was too different. Their expectations were too different. Even their sense of moral values were too different.

There are some things about life that we might never view the same way, she thought.

But then, as one of his servants — albeit a close and trusted one — she didn’t need to either.

 

—— * * * ——

 

“They should be around here,” Luna heard Konstantin mutter irritably under his breath.

The two had ridden for an entire morning, until they reached the locale marked on Aleksandr’s map. It had brought them to this narrow animal trail in the middle of a forest.

They were surrounded mostly by birch trees. These narrow and tall plants reached over thirty paces high and raised the forest canopy well above the ground. However, their sparse foliage also allowed a heavy undergrowth to thrive on the forest floor, which now lay covered by thick layers of bushes, shrubs, fallen leaves, and moss.

All of this made travel difficult and camouflage easy.

Luna helped to scan the surroundings as Konstantin’s horse trotted along. Her tranquil mind immersed itself in the soothing sound of flowing water and singing birds, only to be interrupted by with the angry growl of a hungry beast.

It was Konstantin’s stomach.

The distracting noise drew Luna’s attention back around. The young lord scowled in annoyance as he continued to survey the area. It was already past noon and they hadn’t eaten anything since an early breakfast. It might have been easier if he could simply cast a magical scanning spell. But nature spells weren’t his specialty, and he probably hadn’t prepared a rune capable of piercing plant matter.

And the hunger is clearly interfering with his focus, she thought.

“By the river,” Luna suggested before pointing at a dirt trail that branched off the main path, from the direction where she could hear gentle water streaming down a brook. “That way.”

“You saw something?”

It only took a hundred paces or so before they crossed a ridge and arrived near the water’s edge. Under Konstantin’s curious gaze, Luna climbed off his mount and searched around. She found what she sought near the stump of an old tree. Scampering over in her skirt, she pulled one of the large wild mushrooms from the earth and nibbled on its edge.

Tastes right, she thought before uprooting the whole colony and rinsing it in the nearby creek. She saw some wild blueberries and white marrow flowers along the way and took some of both as well.

“Hey Luna, we’re here to meet people, not pick flowers!” Konstantin yelled irritably as he rode his horse close.

“Here,” she raised the herbal mix between her palms and offering it to him with a smile.

Konstantin’s eyebrows rose as he looked between the contents of her hand and her expectant eyes. Clearly, he had never received a bouquet of flowers… and berries and fungi, from a girl before.

“What… do I do with this?” He asked as he reluctantly took a handful of it.

“Eat it.”

Konstantin stared at Luna like she had gone insane.

“I’m not that hungry.”

“We have no idea how long it’ll take before we find them, and Your Lordship will only grow more grouchy in the meantime,” Luna reasoned. “Better to eat something now.”

Konstantin looked down at the plants in his fingers. It must have seemed less appetizing than his horse’s feed. At least there were grains mixed in among the animal’s dinner.

“But this isn’t food! How do you know if this is even edible!?”

“Because I lived on these, among other things, for five months during the Iskar War.” A faint gloom cast over Luna’s smile as she calmly replied. “Mama was a herbalist and apothecary; if she hadn’t taught me about all the wild plants… I would never have survived.”

Konstantin scowled as though berating himself. He stared at the forage in her hands like his life and honor was at stake. Then, without another word of protest, he snatched a palm of this ‘autumn mix’ and forced it into his mouth.

His face soon distorted like his tongue was being tortured.

“This texture is awful. It’s like… rotting garbage…”

Luna blinked as she stared back at him. Part of her was tempted to defend her food. But then, the mushrooms did often taste grimy, and Konstantin had once been on the run for several weeks after he escaped the Streltsy Revolt. So maybe…

“You poor thing. Even I’ve never had to resort to eating rotting garbage.”

Konstantin almost choked. He swallowed hard before coughing several times to clear his throat.

“I don’t mean that literally!” He exclaimed. “I don’t know what rotting garbage tastes like!”

Luna looked disappointed as she stared back.

“Then why were you lying?”

“I wasn’t! I was just exaggerating! Ugh. Stop taking everything I say so seriously!”

“I take everything seriously.” She pouted with a knowing gaze. “You already know that.”

Before he could reply, Luna heard a quiet ruffle in the tall grass not far from them. She spun around in reaction, and Konstantin instantly responded by drawing his arming sword.

“Who goes there!?” He pointed the blade in challenge as he swiveled his horse back around. “Show yourself!”

Three bodies stood up from behind bushes, all of them just over thirty paces away. Each of them wore a green camouflage cloak with hood over their leather armor and clothes, as well as a shortbow and arrow loosely in hand.

Neither Konstantin nor Luna even realized that they had been watched this whole time, nor that they might have been killed had they behaved more suspiciously.

“You laughed first,” one of the three grinned to another. “Pay up.”

The two in the rear exchanged coins while the one leading the trio stepped forward. He then pulled down the black cloth covering his lower face.

“Prince Konstantin Radomirovich Apraksin?” The bearded, stocky man who was at least a decade past his adult prime spoke. “My name is Anton Mikhailovich Kuznetsov, senior retainer in service to the House of Tuchkov.”

Luna finally exhaled the breath that she had involuntarily been holding. Meanwhile Konstantin sheathed his sword again and climbed off his horse.

“How did you know it was me?”

“The young master told us that you have an… unusual maid,” the old man made a twisted smirk as he pulled off his hood.

His face was actually kind of frightening, between his bulging, mismatching blue and gray eyes, a large, prominent nose, and thick brown beard, he looked more like the leader of a robber gang than a druzhina. It didn’t help that his wrinkled forehead gave him a perpetual, angry frown.

“Feels like a waste of talent, for her to be a mere housemaid. I’d–”

“Is it your place to have an opinion on how I employ my servants, soldier?” Konstantin cut him off with a stern face.

“No, Your Highness.” Anton said dryly as he gave a quick bow of his head, military style. He continued to address Konstantin based on the title that the Dolgorukovs had stripped from him: an heir of the Princely House of Apraksin.

Luna knew that while Anton was well-intentioned, his remark had been entirely premature. But then, was that a test? She couldn’t help wonder as she saw his disappointed gaze.

Konstantin’s choice in his ‘strict aristocrat’ persona might have just made a spectacularly bad first impression. Most druzhina might not be of noble birth. But as the word druzhina, which meant ‘fellowship’, implied, they were retainers who often fought, trained, and dined alongside the nobles whom they served. Perhaps Konstantin only remembers his father giving stern orders to such military men. But off the battlefield, the noble Boyars would have treated their druzhina retainers with respect and a modicum of equality… especially for a military household like the Tuchkovs.

“Is the rest of your group nearby?” Konstantin asked next. “And ‘Lordship’ will be fine. I have no need to see my head inflated before the deed.”

“Yes, Your High… Lordship. They’re just over there.”

Anton pointed at what looked like a tiny hill just on the other side of the creek. One of his men picked up a pebble and tossed at it, which went straight through the dirt mound while the air above it shimmered, like the rippling surface of water after a splash.

“A Mirage Arcana; I had expected as much,” Konstantin spoke as though he knew it all along. “Well then, lead the way. We have much to discuss, and I hope you have something better for lunch.”

The young lord’s voice was demanding yet woefully short on details, followed by a sharp silence that he clearly expected the other to fill. However Anton did not respond in a straight tone. Instead, his reply came with just enough respect to cover its silent snicker:

“There’s still some smoked venison from last night.”

Definitely the wrong choice… Luna concluded behind them as she examined at the remaining forage in her palms with a sad gaze. As she followed the others, she began putting it into her mouth.

To waste food, just because there was something better, was a cardinal sin in her book.

Then, as they crossed the shallow creek in splashes of water, she hurried close to Konstantin and leaned in to whisper:

“Your Highness isn’t impressing any ignorant peasants here. I suggest loosening up.”

 

—— * * * ——

 

“Twenty-five MCOs won’t build much of an army,” Luna heard Anton state the obvious fact.

Her, Konstantin, Anton, plus seventeen others –all those currently in camp– sat and stood around in a loose circle. None of them had chairs. A few of them, like Konstantin, simply found a rock to perch on. Meanwhile Luna stood flanking him, her mind paying attention to every word spoken.

She doubted any of them would explain to her if she lost track of the conversation. She was just a servant after all.

Luna knew that MCO was an abbreviation for ‘Magic Capable Officers’. It was generally seen as the bottleneck for military forces across the continent. Since unlike the magic-lacking commoners with their short lives, the aristocratic mages lived for well over a century. Combined with a need for straightforward family trees that facilitated succession and reduced dynastic struggles, it meant they simply didn’t reproduce as often.

Therefore, while magic could be used to decisive results on the battlefield, every nation sought to fill out their armies with commoners. War was often a conflict of resource attrition, and ‘manpower’ was just another one of them.

“It’s enough to form us a battalion or two,” Konstantin declared.

He reached into a side pocket and pulled out a scroll. Laying it against the ground, he unfurled it to display a hierarchy of military ranks and formations scribbled onto the parchment.

“My father drafted this for future reforms when he and Marshal Tuchkov studied the differences between our outdated regimental system, and the new Tagmata structure of the Inner Sea Imperium,” the young lord explained. “What they came up with was a full threefold system: three sections of three per squad, three squads per platoon, three platoons per company, three companies per battalion, plus a few squads sprinkled here and there for specialist roles. Only platoon leaders, signal officers, and above require MCOs.

“I did the math: if we swap one company in each battalion for a logistical unit — they only need two MCOs — we can cut requirements to as low as twenty MCOs per battalion. If we recruit yeomen to fill the signal, pioneer, and logistical officer roles, we can skim by on just thirteen each. That’ll allow us to form two battalions.”

“That’s seriously diluting the magical support,” a druzhina noted. “Fresh yeomen might know some basic utility magic, but they won’t be trained in battle-support and logistical spells.”

‘Yeomen’ was the term for commoners blessed with magical affinity. Luna was quite familiar with their social rank, as her own father had been one of them. Many were the descendants of noble bastards or outcasts stripped of titles, and therefore inherited some sorcerous lineage from their bloodline. They made up the middle class of specialists and artisans, whose capacity for spellcasting made them ‘first class commoners’ in the eyes of the nobility.

However, due to how the gift of magic worked differently among Samarans than most other human sub-races, Luna did not inherit the potential for spellcraft herself.

“Compared to us druzhina, yes.” The conversation continued in the circle. “Compared to the Home Guard regiments? They’re lucky to get more than one qualified officer in a hundred.”

“What about the squad leaders?”

“We train commoners of leadership potential,” Konstantin answered. “Veterans, overseers, boatswain, et cetera.”

“Much like the Streltsy then.”

Konstantin’s temple twitched slightly as he heard that word again. “Yes,” he forced out between bared teeth.

“Even then, two battalions is only eight hundred men,” Anton’s gaze left the parchment and stared at the young lord. “Your Lordship wants us to launch an insurrection with only eight hundred men?”

“In war, numbers alone confer no advantage. Do not advance relying on sheer military power.” Konstantin quoted the famous Sun General from the Far East. “I need a scalpel that can ride a thousand kilopaces and seize opportunities overnight, not a lumbering mountain that arrives only too late and must resort to brute force.”

Anton’s eyebrows elevated, looking just a little bit impressed.

“Very well, Your Lordship. I take it that your father also has a new location planned for us?”

“Funny,” Konstantin half-snorted, partly in derision and partly… Luna wasn’t sure yet.

“I do not commune with the dead, I assure you. Nor do I keep Mímir’s talking head like the Great Stormlord,” Konstantin commented before pulling out another map, one with not only an ‘X’ to mark the target but even a route planned to avoid being seen.

“Here,” he spread it across the ground and held it down with rocks. “It’s in the foothills of the haunted Dead Mountains, close enough that you can see the everlasting mist so only the brave will last. The location is in a valley secluded by steep hills and forests. It’s also far enough south that the woods might still hold game to hunt even during wintertime. Two streams runs through the local forest for water supply. Within three hours’ journey is a farming village, large enough to purchase extra supplies but remote enough that word of us won’t get out easily. Five hours southeast is my estate, so I can visit in a single day trip without raising too much suspicion.”

“Well,” Anton scratched his beard. “Your Lordship has certainly done his homework. Though I don’t think we’ll be able to avoid some rumors leaking out about us. Best to disguise ourselves as trees in the forest.”

“I think we’ll be fine as long as we remain small under the looming shadow. Nobody is going to pay attention to us when there’s an all-out invasion in the east.” Konstantin then frowned before gazing upon the druzhina leader. “But I am perceptive to new ideas.”

Anton’s brows shot higher. He had clearly thought that the lordling had brushed him off.

“Simple,” the gruff man noted. “We disguise ourselves as a lumber camp, build much of our facilities deep in the woods to hide our numbers. We might violate a few laws due to our lack of permits, but considering how the undesirable the location is, only the most petty local noble will even care. And those we should be able to bribe easily.”

“Good idea,” Konstantin nodded in immediate acknowledgment. “I don’t know a thing about forestry though. So I’ll leave that one up to you.”

“Yes, Your Lordship.” Anton answered with pride in his voice.

Definitely someone who needs tasks to be delegated to, rather than be told exactly what to do, Luna thought to herself as she observed.

Her father always said that there were two kinds of people in the world: those who prefer to take personal responsibility, and those who prefer to live without. There were roles better suited for each type to play. Thus, the most important job for any leader — be it military or governance or trade — was to identify the personality and match them with their appropriate job.

“What about recruitment, Your Lordship?” Someone asked next.

“That’s a tricky one,” Konstantin leaned back straight as his hand went to his chin, as though holding it up with his thumb. “There are a number of towns in the south with potential, the trouble is motivating them…

“For example,” his hand pointed back to the map. “There are around a dozen border towns near the Iskar border, most of which were conquered during the last war. They have little love for whomever the Grand Prince may be in Velikaya. But they also have no reason to fight for my cause.”

“Apart from the money,” Anton commented dryly.

“There are elite mercenaries who are reliable, but peasants don’t make elite mercenaries,” Konstantin countered. “There’s also the remote towns in the marshlands. I could name three off-hand that lost over half their crop to the flooding this Spring. Those men will certainly find money — or better yet, food for the winter — attractive. But…”

“We won’t be the only recruiters?”

“Precisely,” Konstantin agreed.

“Excuse me, Your Lordship, but I personally think that misses the opportunity,” Anton interjected. “Consider: whom are they more likely to take an interest in? The local lords who do nothing about their plight until they needed manpower, or an adventurer who returned after hearing about their woes, offering them an opportunity for both keeping their families fed and potential glory?”

With a head-tilt to one side, Konstantin mulled it over.

“You’re excused for all future objections, Anton,” the young lord smirked at the Druzhina Captain. “I see why Sachka choose to bring you. Think you can manage it?”

“Not alone, no. I’m sure my face is handsome and appealing, but it’s just not the right one for this task,” Anton spoke with a ferocious grin that only made him look more like a brigand. However his gaze remained calculating as they eyed the young lord. “How about Your Lordship accompany me?”

Konstantin’s chuckle turned into a sigh.

“That’ll be tricky to manage, but I might be able to squeeze out a few days.”

Luna could tell that part of him was beginning to like this druzhina leader already.

Anton nodded. “Any other sources of fresh recruits?”

“There’s a few more towns in the river delta. Strongly independent. Never cared for their nominal lords. And the marshy terrain is so hostile nobody could force them to either. So the nobles leave them alone in exchange for a very basic tax. But whether or not those people will listen to anyone’s orders…” Konstantin shrugged.

“One never knows, some might appreciate the opportunism,” One of the druzhina chimed in. “There’s always a sense of adventure to military service, especially for those who grew up in a muck. I would know!”

“What’s your name?”

“Drazhan, Your Lordship,” the young man replied. He had a narrow face, brown wavy hair, and sported a trimmed goatee. He wasn’t quite handsome enough to be pretty boy, but his neat, untarnished wardrobe came in rather flamboyant colors compared to the rest, which suggested to Luna that he was a dandy.

“You want to try your hand at it?” Konstantin offered, though not before looking at Anton for confirmation nod.

“It’d be my pleasure Sir! I mean, Your Lordship!”

“Good!” Konstantin smirked. “Recruit a company, and you’ll be in charge of that company. Recruit a battalion, and I’ll let you lead that battalion.”

“What if I recruit a whole regiment?”

“Then get out of here.” Konstantin shooed with his hand. “I don’t need a braggart leading a mob of unarmed, unfed men.”

The druzhina around the circle all laughed.

Even Luna couldn’t help but put on a beaming smile. His Lordship might have stumbled at first — all his reading on leadership couldn’t make up for the fact that he had zero experience in it. But once he figured out the right approach, his social aptitude shone through and easily began to exude the charisma of a natural-born leader.

“Remember, people: quality, not quantity,” Konstantin continued. “I’ll pay the best, but I want the best. Oh, I’ll also need someone who knows horses to ride down to the Iskar lands and buy a few hundred. Needless to say the entire force will need to be mounted for reaction speed.”

“Training a cavalryman is hardly an overnight process.”

“We’ll form them as dragoons if we must,” Konstantin used the term for ‘mounted infantry’. “Or even Tachanka battle-wagons if we can get our hands on them. But we need the mobility.”

“Also not immediately, I surmise?” Anton asked.

“No. Though it wouldn’t hurt to start looking and discretely build relationships with a few horse traders,” Konstantin answered. “Even if we won’t need the numbers until the recruits are ready for it. The beasts do cost fodder after all.”

“Well then, that’s all I have,” Anton concluded. “I think this should be enough to get us started. We’ll depart at dusk and head towards the new camp during the night. Shouldn’t attract any attention.”

Konstantin nodded as he gazed around the group. The men looked purposeful with a grasp of their immediate tasks. But before they adjourned, he needed to also make sure they remember the long-term goals. And therefore he raised his hand above his shoulder, followed by his fingers one at a time:

“Then let me summarize, our top priorities are: one, to recruit quality manpower with the minimal tell to local authorities; we need to stay out of their attention for as long as possible. Two, to secure sufficient provisions for winter and early spring; I’d say about five months worth for eight hundred men — that’s quite a few wagon-loads of grain.”

Amateurs discuss tactics, professionals study logistics. Luna heard Alexei’s voice from the depth of her memories. Though she had a feeling he learned that from somewhere else too.

“There’s still one question to be answered,” Drazhan the druzhina called out. “What should we name ourselves?”

Definitely a dandy, Luna couldn’t help think. But if they want a unit name to forge legends, there’s none better than… 

“Preobrazhensky.” She inadvertently, albeit quietly, blurted out a word.

Not quiet enough. Konstantin swung around, and Anton looked at her with his eyebrows cocked.

“What does that mean?”

What does it mean? Even Luna wasn’t sure. It felt like she knew the term, and the mere pronunciation of it conjured a fierce sense of pride within herself. Yet she couldn’t even remember where she had heard or seen it in the first place.

Perhaps it means something to Alexei, she finally realized. Something important to him.

“Sorry Your Lordship, just mumbling to myself,” she curtsied with a rather sheepish expression.

It had been enough for Anton to look away, but not Konstantin. He gaze was more curious than annoyed, as though saying ‘this is very unlike you.’

“How about the ‘Death Battalions’?” Her sudden interest in naming decided to offer a real answer. Luna increasingly wondered if her former life in Alexei held a passion in etymology, as the new proposal also triggered odd feelings of nostalgia.

“It’s morbid,” Anton frowned.

“It’s bombastic,” Konstantin followed.

“It’s just perfect!” Drazhan exclaimed. “I could really work with that.”

The leaders turned to look at him like the young druzhina had been hit in the head with something.

“No no, just think about it,” Drazhan stood up and pointed towards the north. “The Polisian aristocracy are the descendants of Hyperboreans! Northmen! Those frenzied, hardy warriors renowned across the continent for their berserkergang cries and seeking death in search of Valhalla! It’s perfect to conjure that exotic image of high seas adventurism and risking one’s life for glory!”

“Minus the high seas,” Konstantin corrected. But he also returned that tilted-head expression which meant ‘you make a good point’.

Meanwhile, Anton simply put two fingers to his temple and shook it, muttering:

“I have no idea what kids think these days anymore.”

 

 

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Author’s Notes

• Mimir’s Talking Head: Mimir, “the wise one”, is a Norse God who was beheaded during the Aesir-Vanir War. Afterward, Odin the Allfather began carrying his head around as a source of counsel and wisdom. This sparked a lot of tales involving Vikings who kept the heads of their loved ones for counsel (as a way of showing paganism as insane and barbarous).

• ‘Amateurs discuss tactics, professionals study logistics’: attributed to several people, most notably Napoleon.

• Preobrazhensky: the 1st and most elite Imperial Russian Guard Regiment, established by Peter the Great from his famous ‘toy forces’, which were units of boys that he drilled into a military unit when he was in his youth.
• Death Battalions: or Battalions of Death, which are Russian shock troop units assembled by volunteers during World War I. Trained in the predecessor of ‘Sturmtruppen’ (Stormtrooper) tactics, they performed exceptionally during the opening phase of the Kerensky Offensive. The most famous of these were the Women’s Battalions of Death assembled under Maria Bochkareva.

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