and they called it...

P A P E R M A D N E S S

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This story and all the material herein belongs to me and my creative mind. The names, characters, locations and ideas are all from my overactive imagination, so please be a kind reader and don't steal them unless I give the say-so. Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events.

Enjoy...
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: : Bred for Excellence : :

//Chapter two, Structure and Frame

"How many men were lost today?" Flaure asked a nurse in the medical hall.

"Twenty three last I heard, even Vollam." She answered, eyes sticking to her work on replacing bandages on a resting knight. Many of the healers and doctors present had traveled from the wards in Baland, helping to tend the injured as per their sworn oaths. "Lord knows how many wounded."

"Any word on captain Saldar?"

This made the nurse quiver. "He's hangin' on by a thread, missie. If your concerned about him, it'd be best to see him while he's still alive. He's in his personal chambers."

"Thank you." Flaure turned and left the hall, walking across the grounds with an eye overseeing the damage done. Dozens of men were outside and talking to one another, covered in while bandages and blood stained clothes. For many of them, she knew, this was their first time in an actual battle. For others, this was the first time they ever had to kill someone in such a close and personal conflict. Hunting animals and sparring was one thing, to kill another human and see their blood out and their souls expire was something not many people had the courage to do. Flaure was still shaken by the experience, but she had logic to fall onto. She was dedicated to winning this war for Corvalia, even if it cost her more than she could bear to part with. Such was the meaning of sacrifice.

The central meeting hall, little more than a wooden box with carpets and thick tapestries to cover the dirt, was crowded with the worse off knights. Healers wished to keep them in shelter and close by for easier observation. Passing through the rows of men was a somber reminder of the brutal nature of any battle. Near the end there was a door to a separate chamber, and passing through it revealed her captain resting on a bed and tended to by several healers and commander Westler.

"Ah...if it isn't our little firebrand." Saldar wheezed.

"Please, Sir, don't strain yourself." She insisted, saluting briefly and trying to keep composure.

"Nonsense, I'm feeling better by the minute." He raised his voice, but his pale and strained flesh betrayed pain and suffering levels above what she could understand.

"Lieutenant, why are you here? The captain needs his rest, please leave him in peace." Westler was keeping his voice in check, but it still seethed with obvious anger.

"That's alright, Bart, she can stay." Saldar berated his subordinate. "I'm glad you came, Flaure. Have a seat."

"Sir?"

"Sit." He repeated, struggling to sit upright despite the hounding of the medical wardens present. Able to lift his upper torso up so he could see his comrades properly, he relented to exhaustion and kept still. "What's our status?"

"Twenty three dead from last report." Flaure answered before Westler, earning another blistering glare from the man. "Commander Horace Vollam among them."

This made Saldar sigh deeply, adding to the great weight pressing on his shoulders. "Thrice damned mercs..."

"Sir, we may have suffered numerous losses today, but we still have a sizeable contingent of knights remaining active. The enemy retreated on foot, and we have no evidence that they have a place to return to nearby. If we use our cavalry to front a company of knights, we can pursue them and run them through as they pull back!"

"And leave the camp without protection?"

"It's the best chance we have to make an example to those damned bastard knights! They'll be haggard and worn once we reach them, it will be an easy time to kill them all! They'll think twice before tempting such a bold move against us!"

"Commander, I won't sacrifice more men today." The captain replied quietly. "Recovery is our priority. Attacking them now would lead both us to ruin."

"But Sir-!"

"Our men have suffered enough today." His voice, while still quiet, cut the commander's argument down with ease. "To have the new recruits pursue and kill them would also kill their moral. We would be just as dead as if the enemy did the deed themselves."

"I still-"

"The captain is right, commander." Flaure interrupted, standing to face the man. "My men are exhausted both physically and mentally. To ask them to pursue the Carpise knights would break them, body and soul."

Westler, eyes wild at the sight of a woman opposing his idea, stood to tower a head over the thin girl. "I never asked for your opinion, woman! You're place is to follow my orders to the letter!"

Despite the intimidating stance the knight held, Flaure still stood her ground with an equal defiance. The arrogance of her skills in battle seeped into her words as she spoke. "Our captain has rejected your proposal, commander. You make yourself a hypocrite to accuse me of disobeying the chain of command alone!"

Westler's face grew red, his hands quivering with the impulsive desire to strike her down for stepping far beyond her place as a knight and as a woman. Whatever restrain he had kept dominant until captain Saldar spoke and drew his attention.

"Bart, stand down!"

Fealty to his superior and nothing else made the commander step away, eyes burning into Flaure's own with promises of vengeance and retribution. Flaure, skin flushed at how many rules of conduct she breached, kept her place but looked towards the wounded captain for any signs.

"We stay here." He ordered with a tone of finality. "Commander Westler, rally the healthy knights for a close patrol and double guard duties. Commander Highguard, try and organize the units into some semblance of proper form. I'm certain a consolidation of squadrons is necessary."

Both Flaure and Westler saluted, the sudden promotion for the woman not lost to either of them as they left the room to attend their duties.

The young page dropped another large sheaf of papers onto the desk Flaure sat at, the woman hurriedly grouping men and equipment together and trying her best to reform the broken ranks of the battalion. She glanced up at the new additions to her workload, then eyed the barely adolescent boy for an explanation.

"Rosters for the Third, ma'am." He spoke, voice quiet and polite.

"Ah, thank you." She replied, picking up an equally thick stack of official parchments and scooting them to the youth. "Take these and give them to the First Company, those are their new assignments and rosters."

"Yes'm." He nodded, holding the paper load like a newborn in both hands before turning to leave.

Flaure continued her work, now feeling overburdened with the volume of details to flesh out for the reassignments of knights. Nine men to a unit, ten units to a company, three companies to a battalion, and she was responsible to make order out of the patchy remains of the knights in those positions.

'I've already had to eliminate an entire third of a company to even out the numbers in the other two! Forty one men dead, and ninety eight wounded and out of action for two days minimum. How can Captain Saldar or the commanders deal with this kind of nonsense?'

Flaure sighed heavily, knowing that her promotion to Commander would require her to master the skills needed to organize and lead a large volume of men. She was responsible for the Third Company, holding seventy men in seven bolstered units. Having just finished reorganizing the First Company of eighty one men, she looked forward to several more hours of sitting at this desk and plodding through papers. The late afternoon sun brought little sunlight to the cramped office, and her stomach tightened in a reminder of a forgotten lunch.

'This might rationalize Westler being so angry around others, this would drive anyone to a rage after a time.'

Another paper was filled with scribbles, circles, and arrows pointing to columns and listings. This was the end result for the organization of the Second, and now she had the pleasure of filling out the dozens of official 'transfer of men or materials' parchments to legitimize the changes.

"Miss Highguard?" A voice drifted in from the open door of the small room.

"Come in." She replied, knowing from the respectful tone and measure of the words who it was. The man stood in front of her desk and Flaure looked up to see Jonas in a blood stained tunic and dirtied pants. She motioned for him to take a seat, and he did so with care taken to make sure he didn't jostle his left arm.

"I heard you were promoted to Commander. Congratulations." He kept his tone neutral, curiosity marking his words.

"Thank you, but you didn't come just for that, did you?"

"Well, I just thought you might like some company is all. It's been a tough day."

"Yeah." She glanced up from her work to look over her fellow graduate. He seemed well enough, arm tightly bound and free of fresh blood. "How are you holding up?"

"Okay, I guess." He slouched, eyes reflective of inner struggles. "I just don't know what to think. We were trained to be knights, and I was ready as anyone else to fight the enemy. I just didn't think it would be so horrible...so bloody."

"So personal?" Flaure added, a flinch sign that she struck a nerve. "It's the nature of war, Jonas. Of course we're eager to fight the enemy to help win the war, but it comes at the cost of so many lives. You remember Leon and Peradin? They both died out there, even though they both were good men."

"Even Fencer died, and he was second behind you." Jonas added with a pained sigh. "He was my friend. They all were, and now they're dead...just like that, like they were just randomly taken."

Flaure set down her ink quill, knowing that his visit for some company was really just an excuse to talk with someone about his troubles. Not that she minded, of course. Jonas was a friend of many months, and knowing that the next battle might randomly take his life made the time they had together all the more valuable. His life had been kept within the confines of his home and neighborhood, so he was very naive of how the world functioned. Escaping into the Academy of Warfare was his only way out of that stifling environment, but it was a poor means to experiencing the world. His lack of social skills when she first met him was the most evident sign of that choking childhood.

"It's tragic that lives can be so easily thrown away and lost, but it's the risk we take as knights for Corvalia. It hurts, for me just as much as you, but we don't have the luxury to set aside time for mourning their loss. The only thing we have time for is to pick ourselves up and continue the fight, to win so their sacrifices weren't in vain."

"But what's the point of winning if it costs everyone their lives? Our classmates are the only friends I've ever had, I don't want to see them all die and leave me alone again. What kind of victory will it be if I don't have anyone to celebrate it with?"

"We won't all die, Jonas. We've been trained to be the best, and the survivors will be much smarter next time." She stood up and walked around the desk, standing in front of the boyish knight. "Besides, do you think that I'll go down so easily? I'm a Master Knight, that untouchable wench. You don't have to worry about me, and I'll make sure none of our friends die either."

Jonas looked up at her. "But how can you be so sure that you can go on? Even I'm feeling like death's just bidding his time before stealing my soul away."

Flaure put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, offering what comfort she could to the ailing young man. "I'm not sure, but we can't go second guessing ourselves all the time, can we? Just keep your spirits up. We've trained together, can work as a team, know all our strengths and weaknesses. So long as we stick together and watch one another, then no one will be able to break us apart."

Jonas remained silent, but his expression lifted slightly and a corner of his lips tugged up in a grin. "Okay, Flaure, I'll watch your back and everyone else's."

"And I the same."

The young man stood up and inspected his wounded arm, and Flaure returned to her desk to continue the pointless amount of paperwork needed to make permanent the changes in command. He walked towards the door, but a light cough from his comrade bid him to hold a moment.

"Jonas, I'm promoting you to a Lieutenant in the Third." Flaure announced.

He spun around, eyes glittering with surprise and concern. "Promoting me? Why?"

"Because I know you're a better leader of men than a tool to be directed."

"But...do you have permission to do that? Commander Westler-"

"Westler is not responsible for the organizations of the knights." She spoke in a half growl, anger the only emotion she would lace in regards to that man. "Captain Saldar gave me orders to reorganize the knights because of the losses we took. Since Commander Vollam died, I was given his position and reign over the Third. You're part of the Third, so it's wholly in my right to give and take positions as necessary."

"I...I don't, I mean..." He struggled to find the right words for her, his face red with embarrassment.

Flaure held up a hand to forestall his coming arguments. "You don't need to argue about it. You and I know that you'd do better as a leader than a follower, you showed as much this afternoon, remember?"

"...Yes."

"Then can you honestly give me a reason for why you don't deserve a chance to prove yourself as a leader? You want to protect everyone so we don’t lose any more friends, right? This is the best way that you can do it."

Jonas again struggled for a reply, but gave up the fight. He saluted instead, standing in proper military fashion. "I can't think of a reason. Thank you for this chance, I won't fail you, Commander Highguard."

Flaure stood and returned the gesture. "I know you'll make me proud, Lieutenant Decklar."

* * *

"What happened out there?"

"I don't know, Sir."

Alvard clenched his hands together even tighter. "I'm not asking for excuses, man! I want to know what went wrong with my plans that kept the enemy from scattering? I've carried out a dozen missions on this front and I've never seen the Corvalia knights rise up like that."

"Maybe that new addition of knights were veterans and knew how to fight?"

"No. At most they were a unit transferred from the rear, my spies has confirmed that there is no way they can afford to move a front line company without risking a breach in their borders."

The scouter raised his arms in defeat. "I don't know, then, Sir. Maybe the new unit was trained on aggressive tactics to counter our own?"

"I don't see how that could have made a difference."

"Well, you said yourself that the enemy should have folded on itself once we arrived. The diversionary unit was to harass them and get them shaken, and we'd come in a break their lines and run them down. When we arrived our unit had retreated already, and then they rallied and charged us. We didn't have a chance to get into one on one combat, so they just bunched up on us with sheer numbers. Even the Silver Reaper's can't win against superior numbers when it gets down to the bones of a fight."

Alvard listened carefully to his scouter's words. While his tactician, Faran, had a keen and intelligent mind for battles, the scouter had an eye for detail and could pick a battle apart, man for man if pressed. "So you think it was their rush and sheer numbers that overwhelmed us?"

"That's the only thing I can think of. Normally the Corvalia knights just sit in their camps and wait for us to come for them. This time they charged right at us like berserkers, and that I have never seen them do."

"Perhaps it was revenge for your shot on their leader?"

The scouter grinned. "Maybe. He must've been pretty important to have golden armor. Wait a moment..." His eyes widened, brain working to unfurl the images he could recall of the moment in time. "Right after I shot the man in gold armor, the girl he was talking to looked towards us. She started running, and everyone else followed-"

"A girl rallied the Corvalia knights against us?" Alvard twined his fingers together casually, eyes narrow as he contemplated the idea.

"I think so, unless my memory’s getting fuzzy already."

"A girl." He repeated slowly. "Do you recall her being there before?"

"I couldn't say."

"So she must have been a part of that new unit of knights. Curious that a backwater unit has such a person within their ranks." He stood from his table and stretched his arms. "Winters, go get Faran and bring him here."

The scouter stood and saluted. "Of course, Sir."

Alvard slumped into his chair once the man was out of the planning tent, muscles sore and begging a proper rest on a comfortable bed. He sighed, knowing such luxuries were far and few in the front lines.

'How could a mere girl be so daring as to rally a force of knights to fight against me? Surely they knew who we were, but they still came at us like men possessed. If she is new from Corvalia's reserves, then what does that bode for the future of the war? Could we win against an army led by such zealots?'

He let his head loll back, staring at the mud green fabric of the tent. "We must persevere..."

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