Chapter Text
Iris awoke to a knock at the door. The room was empty, and from the light coming in through the windows Iris guessed that it was almost noon. Groggily, she pulled on her clothes and opened the door.
A courier with the King’s badge on his breast was waiting for her.
“What?” she asked. Some days she missed coffee.
“Does the General plan on coming to the parade ground? The troops have been waiting for review.”
“Who’s the General?” Iris asked, loose thoughts floating through her mind, trying to find something to connect to…
“You are. Madame. You have been commissioned as the General of the Demon-Subduing Army.”
“Oh! Excellent. Yes, just give me one minute.”
It was noon by the time she arrived on the parade ground on Stormcloud’s back, Abelard trailing after her.
Late to your first day as a General, great job, Iris, she thought as she dismounted.
She had been placed in charge of an army of three thousand, all of them mounted. Two thousand were cavalry, the other thousand were mounted infantry. Of the cavalry, most were the King’s Light Horse, lancers and horse archers trained by the specifically for anti-demon campaigns. Five hundred of them were heavy knights, led by…
“Sir Rupert of Bantam Bridge,” the man said. He was young, possibly Iris’ age, with red hair and a drooping mustache.
Taken hostage after the Baron’s Revolt, stayed to serve the King after being released. Loyal, honorable. Inexperienced, aggressive. Sigil is a blue rooster on yellow.
The Serpent-Goddess had told her that. Inner minds of men and women, indeed.
“Madame Iris Penny.”
“Of course, Madame!” he gushed, “And let me say I have full confidence that with a gallant knight such as yourself in charge, we’ll beat the demons and be home before Midsommer.”
“I should hope so,” said a dour captain.
Captain John Byfleet. Second-in-command after you. Commoner family, rose through the ranks. King’s Man to the bone. Experienced, hardened, merciless. Competent, but he’s certainly operating under special orders from the King.
That was one to watch out for.
“By summer we’ll all be baking in our armor, I should imagine,” Byfleet continued. He was balding, with a salt-and-pepper beard and a collection of pox scars on his face. “They say the Lady has cursed that land, and that’s why her sun shines so much hotter there.”
“You fought at Endisberg,” Iris guessed. Byfleet nodded.
“I was with the King’s Light Horse,” he confirmed, “Came to Cimarron on a plowhorse to join the army, and they made me a sergeant.”
“Good man. I’ll need your help, this being my first command.”
She shook his hand – squeezing just a little tightly, and she saw his eyes narrow. She knew what he was thinking: here he was, an old veteran who had climbed up the ranks, and he had to take orders from an inexperienced knight.
“It’ll be an honor, Madame General,” he said gruffly.
From there they took her down the ranks, introducing her to captains, lieutenants, and sergeants. Then she inspected the infantry. They were commoners, but this was no mere peasant levy. These men were armored in half-plate, their faces hidden behind the visors of their helms. They had huge round shields, throwing spears, longspears, and short stabbing swords at their belts.
Bit of Rome, bit of Renaissance, Iris thought. Add their packs to the arms and armor, full of food and other supplies.
“Lot of gear, isn’t it, Sergeant…?”
“Sergeant Mason, Madame General. And it is, but a proper soldier is used to the weight.”
“Mmmhm. Do you have a family, Sergeant Mason?”
“Yes, Madame General. A wife…we’re waiting for children when I get the land grant after my service.”
Do your tour and get land – and more importantly the seed and tools to work it. Land after all is cheap and free; the tools to make it profitable are not.
“Well, I’ll have to get you home safe to her,” Iris said, giving the man a smile. She continued down the line, Sir Rupert and Captain Byfleet close behind her, followed by a train of staff and servants.
“These crossbows,” she said, “Let me see one.”
A crossbowman offered Iris his weapon. It was heavy, carved from wood and set with brass and iron. On the back was a large winch, some kind of reloading mechanism.
“Easier to train with than a longbow, with the tradeoff being reloading time. Although…” She motioned at his quiver and raised an eyebrow. He handed her a bolt. She loaded the weapon, hefted it in her hands. She scanned the parade ground. “Give me a target.”
“That supply cart,” the crossbowman suggested. Iris pulled the trigger, and the crossbow went clunk¸ the bolt went thrum, and then it went thwack as it struck the side of the cart, humming angrily. Iris planted the end of the crossbow against the ground and turned the winch on the side, pulling the drawstring back until it went click.
“How was that?” she asked, handing the crossbow back to its owner with a grin.
“Due respect, Madame General, I could do that in half the time.”
Iris laughed.
“The crossbows are one of the King’s inventions,” Byfleet offered, “As you say, Madame General, they’re easier to train with than a longbow, and they have more stopping power as well. Not as much as a gun, but...”
“Guns? Let me see them.”
Byfleet hesitated for only a second, then motioned for a crate to be brought forward.
“You’ve held a gun before, Madame General?” Sir Rupert asked as she lifted the wheel-lock pistol from its crate.
Not like this, she thought. She was thinking of her father’s handgun.
“It’s familiar,” she said distantly. Something about it frightened her. She’d grown up in a small town, she’d handled guns before her eighteenth birthday, she wasn’t afraid of them – but this was different. It felt heavier in her hand than it should have. It was foreign to this world, meant to make war more deadly and more efficient. She suppressed a shudder. “Tell me about them.”
Again, Captain Byfleet hesitated.
“They’re new, actually this’ll be their first test in the field,” Commander Sally Butcher put in. She was in charge of all the light horse – Iris guessed that about a third of the army were women, weighted towards the cavalry.
At least the King is an equal-opportunity employer.
Byfleet nodded.
“From practice, though? Damn clumsy, hard to reload, finicky…but they do stop a man – or demon – dead in his tracks. We only have a few hundred pistols and a bare dozen rifled muskets, and hardly enough powder, but bullets we have in plenty. They’re reserved for officers and some of the light horse.”
A word flitted through her mind – the caracole, the wheel of horsemen armed with pistols.
“Test all the crossbowmen for aim, give the muskets to our best and put them in a unit together.”
“Sharpshooters,” Commander Butcher guessed.
“Where I’m from, we call them snipers.”
Captain Byfleet nodded again.
“And you?”
Iris hesitated, then twirled the pistol around.
“I’ll take two.”
For the first time, Iris saw the ghost of a smile playing around Byfleet’s craggy features.
“I prefer four myself. Drawing is quicker than reloading.”
Iris laughed bitterly and put the pistol back.
“I’ll address the troops now.”
She mounted Stormcloud and rode to the front of the army. It was a lot of people – more than filled the stands at her hometown baseball games. She cleared her throat, then looked down as a servant tugged at her sleeve.
“Amplification spell, Madame General?” he offered.
“Ah. Of course.”
When she spoke, it was like her voice was coming through a loudspeaker. It rolled across the parade ground, reaching every soldier’s ear.
“Hail! I am Madame Iris Penny, Wolf Knight, Lady D’Moines, Wyrmslayer, Outworlder! Some of you have heard of me, so take heart! I’ve beaten some tough odds in my day, and that was just on my own with a few companions about me. I see before me a fine army, full of soldiers who have been trained and given the best equipment the King can make.”
A cheer. They loved the King.
“And on top of that we have veteran officers here who have fought these demons before, and won. So yes, I think they’re right when they say we’ll go out there, find the Demon King, kill him and his raiders, and come home for a Midsommer feast. Are you with me!?”
She drew Fang and held it aloft, and there were more cheers, this time for her.
She couldn’t help but smile. If nothing else, she felt that victory was possible.