Fri Jul 13, 2007 3:10 pm
For those who watched, and there were more than enough of them to go around, it would have seemed that the Brotherhood was going to do naught in the face of this threat of invasion. Yet, here and there amongst the ranks, there was talk of mobilisation. Certainly there was a surge of production of the portable trail rations they would live off of if they were ever put into the field. There were more drills at the trio of Gate-Forts than there had been in the proceeding weeks.
And, more importantly at Fort Sumpter just outside of the township itself, the soldiers of the First Company of the Brotherhood -were- mobilising. Though few in number, they donned the newly acquired harness that would mark their status as the elite of the Order. The gates would be, for the first time in weeks, cast closed to the populace as those within prepared themselves for the rumour of conflict and the possibility of war. By the end of the week, those gates would have flung open once more, though there was little to be given to those who came begging for the handouts Marshal Karolinger had offered.
Instead the full force of the Company, some sixty-seven men and women in gleaming plate, would slowly wind their way out of the wooden fortress and stage mock charges up and down the 'lists prepared for their jousts. First alone, one by one they would hurtle down the set track to vanquish their spinning targets. Then two. Then four. Then patrols. In time, as the day would wane, those who watched would see the Company entire participate in the charge, wheeling in formation across the ground set aside for their practice.
Perfection. The way they moved, as of one mind and body. Marshal Karolinger in the van of each practice charge, his sabre raised high in the air and screeching for the town to hear, if they but could over the thunder of hooves upon the earth. 'For Myrken! For Brotherhood! No Retreat! No Surrender! Charge!'
It was Perfection.
There was something to be said about that, wasn't there.