The True Althanian Army v.s. The Brotherhood of Castigars (Osiris Legion)

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

The village of Havre Lesaint, two miles north of Helen Var. Brotherhood main base.

The Brotherhood of the Castigars main forces could be heard long before they came into sight as they passed through the Whitevale-loyalist Coronian village of Havre Lesaint. Children clung to their mothers' skirts and wondered what dreadful things made such noises. The hooves of the great steeds mixed with the traces and chains, the hollow rumbling of rickety wooden wheels of supply carts, and above it all the crashes as tons of brass, iron and timber bounced on the settlement’s broken paving. Then they were in view; the 95th Foot, the Ea and Elish Cavalry and their outriders, the remaining Immortals, cannons, the Reavers and the Mirage and Jester brigades, all of them to advance the sloping fields of Corone to pound their enemies into oblivion. Once, they did it running, swamped by the native Imperials and slaughtered like sheep. A century had passed since then. Now, they would do it again, this time with Shinsou Vaan Osiris at the helm to reclaim their place in history.

A second Castigar War.

Mothers held their smallest children and pointed at the Reavers, and their leader, and boasted that these soldiers would make the Imperials and the armed insurrection led by the three Thaynes wish they had stayed in hell and suckled souls, which was all they were fit for. And the cavalry! The civilians applauded the trotting ranks of black and navy green uniforms, the polished lances and crossbows of their soldiers unsheathed for display in Havre Lesaint’s newly liberated streets and squares. The fine dust from the horses' hooves was a just small price to pay for the sight of the splendid Brotherhood regiments who, the townspeople said, would chase anyone who opposed them clean over the plains and back into the sewers.

Who could resist this army? From Whitevale in the north and Helen Var in the south, from the ports on the western coast, they were coming together and marching on the road that led to Radasanth, and through every enemy. That didn’t just mean the Imperials, either; that meant the three Thaynes and their mage contingent, that meant Storm Veritas and his mutineers, that meant William Arcus and his band of cultists. Shinsou was worried it even meant Philomel Van der Aart and the Gilded Lily, if she decided he was her enemy. He would pray nightly to the gods that situation would never arise.

The Telgradian, head held tall and eyes steeled on the horizon as he headed the impressive column of men atop his horse Slepnir, was not so confident, though, that everything would go his way.

True, he had enough forces at his disposal to deal with the Imperial army but, marching into lengthening shadows, he wondered what lay beyond Whitevale’s safe borders, the next town of Helen Var and the last before the Radasanthian frontier. Soon they would face these mages with their horrific powers; the main threat of the current battlefield, the hordes that could turn the finest soldiers of their world into so much mincemeat. The townspeople of Havre Lesaint were for now impressed, at least by the cavalry and the 95th Foot, but to experienced eyes the troops gathering around the Brotherhood’s Osiris Legion were pitifully few and the hordes to the south, the numerous forces out to stop them, frighteningly big.

The Brotherhood army that awed the children of Havre Lesaint would not frighten those factions. Not yet, anyway.

Harper Malley, waiting for orders in his billet on the outskirts of town, watched the cavalry sheath their weapons as the last spectators were left behind and then he turned back to the job of unwinding the dirty bandage from his thigh. The leader of the Immortals grunted. The jagged cut had become nine inches of puckered scar tissue, clean and pink against the darker skin. That bastard Imperial had nearly ended him, that jagged spear halfway through a massive down-stroke when Shinsou's rushing blade had lifted it from the ground and the soldier’s masked grimace, framed by the steel helmet, had turned to sudden agony. Harper had twisted desperately away and the javelin, aimed at his neck, had sliced into his thigh to leave another scar as a memento of sixteen years of survival. It had not been a deep wound but the monstrously built man had watched too many men die from smaller cuts, the blood poisoned, the flesh discoloured and stinking, and the doctors helpless to do anything but let the man sweat and rot to his death in the shit houses they called field hospitals. A handful of maggots did more than any army doctor, eating away the diseased tissue to let the healthy flesh close naturally. He stood up and tested the leg. "Thank you, Arius. Good as new."

"Pleasure's mine. Need you fit for briefing, after all." Arius, the wiry, scholarly man who took the title of Shinsou’s right hand, patted the cloaked shoulder of his brother in arms.

Harper pulled on the black overalls he wore instead of the regulation green of the Brotherhood. He was proud of the overalls with their black leather reinforcement panels, a uniform fit for an officer of the mighty Immortals. It was all he had; his uniform and what he could carry on his back and under his arms. Harper Malley knew no home other than the battlefield, no family except for his brethren, and no belongings except what fitted into his supply pouches. He knew no other way to live and expected that it would be the way he would die, even if it were to be here.


Command HQ: Twenty minutes later

Harper Malley looked out of the window into the town square of Havre Lesaint, soaked in afternoon sunlight, and made an acute observation.

“Here comes our executioner."

“Executor, Harper."

Harper ignored Arius’s reproof about Shinsou’s title. He and the bookworm beside him had been together too long, shared too much in life and death, and Shinsou’s head of intelligence knew precisely what liberties he could take with his collegue. "He's looking more cheerful than ever, Arius. He must have another suicide mission for us."

"I don’t doubt it." Arius nodded, pushing the rim of his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I heard he has his eyes on Helen Var.”

Harper, his huge hands gently stripping the hilt of a nearby sword out of habit alone, pretended not to hear the remark. He knew what it meant but the subject was a dangerous one. Shinsou just wanted to get a long wait out of the way and free his people from the shackles of Imperialism, as well as bringing some normality back to their lives after the Brotherhood had split into two factions. The Telgradian now commanded the both the 95th Foot and also the remnants of a company of Reavers who had been cut off by Corone’s army from the rearguard of the Brotherhood during its retreat from the outskirts of Whitevale the winter before. It had been a terrible campaign, mostly in weather that was like the traveller's tales of the poles rather than northern Corone. Men had died in their sleep, their hair sometimes frozen to the ground, while others dropped exhausted from the march and let death take them. The discipline of the army had crumbled and the stragglers were easy meat for the Imperials who murdered their exhausted mounts at the heel of Shinsou’s army. The rabble was saved from disaster only by the Reavers and the 95th, who kept their discipline and fought on through the brunt of the worst weather.

The door of the ruined cottage slammed open and Shinsou Vaan Osiris stepped into the room. He looked and dressed like a proper officer for a change; garbed in black and green uniform with his drakescale navy green coat over the top. He grinned as he took off his coat and nodded at Harper’s leg, ignoring Arius’s dark glare. "The warrior restored then? How's the leg?"

Harper nodded. “I’m ok, sir.”

Shinsou, placing his backside on a nearby chair and putting his boots up on the creaking table in front of him, glanced at both men. "Good. I have a treat for you; one that even a heathen like you might like." He took a dark bottle out of his sack and raised an eyebrow to Arius. "You don't mind?"

Arius shook his head. Shinsou set the bottle on the table and pulled the cork. Harper grabbed a glass, and took a swig.

"Fill me in on the situation in Helen Var." Shinsou asked.

"Major Paikuhan and ten others have just arrived back from there," Harper began, seating himself on a dusty window-ledge, “They managed to salvage some gunpowder before anyone else got to it. It was in those crates that dropped from our wagons when we evacuated the wounded. The Immortals have a piquet set up around the whole town; if anything happens there we need to know about, I’ll know instantly thanks to my link with them. At the moment, no sight of anyone or anything.”

“Good,” Shinsou replied, “I want the remaining Immortals to split south, east and west. A hundred south and fifty-fifty split east and west. I want to know who is in the area, and I especially want to know more about this mage contingent I keep hearing so much about. I also want you to bring the guns we have to just within nine hundred meters of Helen Var, and send the Mirage division in full strength to the town. I want them in full 95th colours.”

"That's very interesting." Arius's eyes lighted up, his lips parting for the first time since Shinsou entered the room. "What about the Elish cavalry, Reavers and the 95th?"

"Put them on standby. Oh, and most importantly of all, send word that I want every available man at Helen Var who isn’t on billet duties to gather the Oyster shells there." Shinsou grinned, gulping down a vast quantity before passing it to Harper, who snatched it away and supped. "I understand Helen Var is, or was, a town for Oyster fishermen, yeah? Get the men to stockpile as many as they can find."

Arius and Harper exchanged confused looks.

“Trust me,” Shinsou said, standing finally from his chair, “It’ll all become clear soon."

Men and supplies moved in first post arrive at Havre Lesaint. Remaining two hundred Immortals sent to scout the south, east and west in divisions of a hundred to the south, fifty to the east and fifty to the west. The entire Mirage division is sent in full strength to the town and activates their ability, appearing as a 2,000 strong 95th Foot. The artillary pieces in full strength are moved to the northern outskirts of Helen Var, 700 metres away from the centre of the town. All above movements to take one post to move into position.