William walked among his followers, noting that there was no uniformity to the so-called Army of War. To even call the fanatics and madmen that made up the force an army was an insult to a properly regimented military force. This made a certain amount of sense considering that Jeremiah Gustav, the lunatic who'd gathered the army and self-titled High Hierophant, had based his army's recruitment upon cult tactics instead of military doctrine.
Gustav had been a minor noble in Corone but had lost his position during the height of the Coronian Civil War. Along with his inherited title, Gustav had lost his mind. But though he was more than a little insane, the High Hierophant had been a masterfully charismatic individual. He'd also possessed intimate knowledge of a variety of occult rituals, including several rituals for the summoning of demons. Gustav preached his message of tearing down society to the cast-offs of the civil war, reaping his reward in followers from those that Corone's new government left. He fed and clothed them, and they devoted themselves fully to him and his promise that one day an infernal savior would rise up to lead them against society.
Unfortunately for the High Hierophant, his charisma and occultism amounted to little when an infernal savior actually arrived.
The cult immediately bowed to accept William as their messiah upon Gustav's death at the revenant's hand. Those who remained loyal to the High Hierophant found themselves either fleeing or being fed to the forge demons. William accepted their fealty, even though he'd never really considered himself a leader of men.
"Domnus!" a rider called out at the edge of camp, using the title Gustav gave to the cult's prophet. William grimaced. He hated the title but couldn't reject it without rejecting his place in the eyes of the cult. Despite all his power, he was still bound by the cult's religious fervor.
"Here," William called back to the rider, startling a nearby group or men who'd apparently dismissed him as just another drifter. William gestured the cult's blessing at them and turned his attention elsewhere, letting the fanatics fall all over themselves in their rush to make obeisance.
"Domnus," the rider called out again in respect as he approached. William rolled his eyes and waved for the man to continue. William didn't know the man's name but he was clearly one of the hound masters that William had set to patrol the perimeter.
"Numerous sentries have spotted the enemy's outriders and have followed them back to their main camp. It's set up atop a small rise to the east of here, across an open tundra."
"Were you spotted?"
"Undoubtedly, Domnus. There were several small skirmishes between our scouts but no real casualties to speak of. They've likely reported us to their leaders."
William frowned but nodded. "Alert Kharas and have him report to my tent."
***
William glanced up, surprised to find Kharas standing at attention inside his tent. The revenant had been so lost in his study of terrain maps that he hadn't heard the vampiric warlord's approach. Despite being clad in heavy plate the Raieran made little sound when he wasn't howling his bloodthirsty, frenzied war cry. William recovered quickly and nodded his respect to the man.
"We have found the enemy, Arcus?" Kharas asked as he approached, his surprisingly light voice echoing from within the depths of his bladed helm.
William nodded and gestured to a few new notations he'd made on the map. He'd complied several more reports from returning scouts in the time it had taken Kharas to make his way across camp. Still, what he had to go on wasn't much.
"They've made camp on a hilltop in this area," William said, pointing to a small rise on the other end of the plain. "We've seen both ground and air scouts but little in the way of defensive fortifications. I'm inclined to belive that they've only recently arrived."
The warlord's burning gaze swept to the scratches on the parchment in front of him. "Give me command of your army and I will bathe in the blood of your enemies this night."
William arched an eyebrow. "And likely lose half the army in the process. We've little night-fighting capability aside from the demons and the hounds. The rest of those howling fanatics would be little more than bumbling fools out there. Not to mention that when they get all worked up there'd be little difference between friend or foe in the dark. Half of our casualties will be from our own people."
Kharas was unmoved. "It matters not, Arcus," he swept a clawed gauntlet in a sharp slashing motion. "There are casualties in war and the more blood shed the better."
William snorted. "Tell me that it doesn't matter when you have no one left for your blood sport."
"Irrelevant," Kharas said. "I will kill all of your enemies. That is all that matters."
William made to reply but cut himself off. As mindlessly bloodthirsty as Kharas was, there was a certain pleasurable bluntness to his approach. He ran through several scenarios of how Kharas' plan would work but ultimately couldn't see a way through without too many unacceptable losses.
"No, Kharas. They know we're here now and will be preparing for us. A charge uphill into a ready enemy will be costly enough without the charge being done in the middle of the night."
Kharas nodded acceptance. He'd made his case and been rejected. Despite the breach of formalities that William allowed, Kharas knew that William was still his superior. "How do you wish to proceed?"
"The enemy's camp is an hour march from here. They'll doubtless be preparing for an assault and we can't give them the luxury of deciding what to do at their own pace. We have the initiative and we need to keep it. Summon a hundred forge demons and call out a hundred spring mortars. I'll take them to the plain opposite the enemy's camp and use them to rain fire down as the enemy puts together their defenses."
"And the rest of us?"
"We'll move at a slow march to give their scouts plenty of warning. I want them up all night in their defensive positions. You'll have the rest of the army stay ready to move out at a moment's notice but get a couple of hours of sleep. Then you wake and march to join the forward position just before dawn. We will attack an exhausted enemy at dawn."
"And if they choose to sally forth against you instead of hunkering down?"
William nodded and gestured to the newest marks that'd been made on the map. "I'll take a thousand men, the hundred censors to support them, and half the hounds to this location. In the dark it should be hard to estimate numbers and enough men will make the enemy hesitate to charge directly out into what could potentially be a vastly outnumbering force."
"And you'll be a small and fast-moving enough force that you can fall back to join the advancing army should they come out," Kharas noted.
"Where they'll be just as blind as us," William agreed. "Just be ready to rouse everyone to march at a moment's notice."
William called for runners to spread the word while he and Kharas finished the details of the upcoming engagement. By the time he emerged, armed and armored for war, the camp was buzzing with excited energy. Finally, they would see battle and drown their enemies in blood.
The battle-group departed to the sounds of chanting and the roars of eager demons.
