Leave a man without a problem, and his mind quickly wanders to his fears. He makes connections where they don’t exist and sees things where there are none. The general reached for his sword more than once after catching a glimpse of a shadow in the trees. Each time it turned out to be a tree trunk that the fog mocked him with.
“Roric, how is your squad?” - Veran asked for the third time that day.
“Food is running as planned, and the men are in good spirits, sir, as I told you earlier. Not eager to reach Rhana, but disciplined either way.”
“They don’t want to fight?”
“They will. Just… It’s not easy to fight someone who shares your tongue and blood.”
“Tell them their own kind will kill them just the same as the imperials. If there’s tension in your company, let me know.”
“Yes, sir.”
Rushed by the czar’s orders, Veran chose to march through the forest rather than take the high road. It was a day quicker at best, but if it meant cutting of the separatist’s supplies and troops earlier, it made the mud worth it. The forest promised secrecy - no traders, no villagers, and hopefully no scouts.
“I never considered how much effort goes into moving soldiers to the fight. I’ve always studied the strategy and tactics of combat but getting there is half the war.” - Ozren said, breaking the frail harmony of hooves and rattling armor.
Veran wasn’t ready to start worrying about the boy yet, that was for the day of the battle. If he had made all the arrangements before that, he wouldn’t have to fear for his safety.
“They say amateurs speak of fighting. Experts talk about logistics. Violence is a memorable but small part of war and getting fed on the way there is a good way to ensure your guys fight harder than theirs.” - answered Veran.
“Does it get easier?” - Ozren asked.
“The planning does. There are harder things in the world. Men need to walk, eat, shit, and rest enough to be useful. The thrill of fighting washes away your fatigue when the day comes, but you must make sure your soldiers can still hold a sword straight.”
“What about the actual fighting? What’s it like to be on a battlefield?”
Veran remained silent for a moment. He gripped the reins tightly, the leather squeeking. The feeling of his sword tapping against his thigh reminded him of that day. The day he let Ozren’s brother die.