Of the Scipii Family/Aulus Severus/Trinbar ~ 'Ere the Sun Rises

'Ere the Sun Rises

Aulus waved the end of his quill through the flame, causing the light inside the tent to flicker.

The candle was burning low, and the smell of singed feather hung around the small tent.

Aulus looked down to the letter he had penned to the Sirion General, laying on his desk atop several day’s worth of scout reports, letters, unit rolls .. He really was starting to hate paperwork.

He signed his name carefully, then rolled the letter into a scroll between his palms, heating the small nub of blue-dyed beeswax in the candle, turned his nose at the pungent smell as he did so, and pressing it firmly to the paper. He pressed on lightly the iron-seal, bearing his family crest and initials, and then slid the letter into a casing, to ensure it would not be crumpled when it arrived.

Had they done enough? He he done enough, was moreso the question.

A shame some didn’t understand the ploy he had tried to use, though it stood testament to the Marshals who still followed the orders, constructing false field-defences, … to mask the full-retreat that never came. A pity.

He glanced at the most recent scouting from across the river, showing almost all Sirion troops marching toward them. As predicted, today would be the battle, as the sun rose the elven Army would attack. He just hoped the allies dealt them a painful blow, like they had the past week.

Trinbar’s defences were no more, the Elven region was cleared and softened, even if today saw a defeat, the allied nations would walk away with victory.

Even now his mind raced with possibilities, with nervousness, with worry and regret.

They could have attacked Sirion City … marched across the bridge under the cover of darkness, allowed their scouts to dodge them a path around the elven Army’s advance and then, as Sirion looked upon a Trinbar alighted by a new dawn … and found to be abandoned with but empty trenches and the ground marks of thousands of boots, the allied forces could have been storming Sirion City, a mere garrison remaining, charging into the elven Capital and setting the whole war on a new pace.

The Ultimate Victory.

Had it been his decision alone … he’d have done it.

He was risky, but the rewards of such a victory would have been great .. Nay .. Would have been unimaginable.

He knew however, no matter how they weighed the situation to be exploitable, most the commanders would not take the risk.

He sighed, looked to his hands, the blue wax dye staining his fingers.

Men .. Would die … at his order today. Brave soldiers … and even perhaps, nobles. The responsibility was heavy, and taking a deep breath as he pulled on his gloves, sheathed his knives, took up the scroll case and reached for his unstrung bow, knocked against a strut of the tent … Aulus felt the shaking fear hit him once more. There was eagerness, there was excitement, but just as with almost any man stood there today, he knew what battle meant, and how much of a savage slaughter it was. He knew the old fear.

The lives and dreams, hopes and ambitions, of so many men would be crushed or set this day.

Aulus made his way outside, handing the scroll to a messenger, before his Captain saluted and Aulus stood before his assembled men.

A few moments of relative silence passed … he need not say anything, they knew it already.

With a nod of his head in acknowledgement, Aulus and his soldiers set-forth on march to the defences where the rest of the Allied Forces were already gathering, Westmoorian, Sultanate, Fontanese. Brothers united against the elven hegemony.

Ready to die, side - by - side.