Darvo Nidiad that Beaumont's behavior brought to his mind, then the smile departed at the reminder that he no longer had Darvo to depend on.
He had meant it when he'd told Enri Willard that the older man had earned his trust, but Parno would likely never trust anyone to the degree he had trusted Darvo. The old soldier had been his only real father in a time when his family shunned him and the royal retainers followed suit for the most part. It had been a favorite pastime to 'pick' on the royal that no one would defend.
No one but Darvo. The man had never once deserted him, misled him, turned away from him. Always Darvo had been there for him. Always.
But not anymore.
Parno shook those thoughts away. He had no time for this. Self-pity of any kind was as unknown to him as fear for his physical well-being. And right now he had much bigger things than his -.
“Rider coming, milord,” Harrel Sprigs mentioned softly, pointing toward a galloping horse that had just emerged from the woods. Parno hadn't even known Sprigs was nearby.
He squinted at the rider, recognizing him as one of Parson's scouts. The man practically slid to a halt, his horse foaming with sweat.
“Milord, the heathen are no more than five hundred yards out and advancing!” the man reported breathlessly. “Cap'n Parson requests orders, sir!”
“Withdraw to the east and continue to screen the flank against possible infantry attack,” Parno ordered at once with no need for thought. “Keep us aware of any danger to our right. We'll worry with the 'heathen' from here on out.”
“Sir!” the man nodded and was once more in motion, on his way back to relay these new orders. Parno attracted Beaumont's attention and waved him over.
“We have minutes at best,” Parno concluded after repeating the warnings of the scout. “You're ready I presume?”
“That we are, milord,” Beaumont nodded grimly. “Ready and waiting.”
“Good,” Parno nodded. “I want you and your men to be the rear-guard when we withdraw,” he told Beaumont and the man literally came to attention in the saddle.
“You'll be there to screen Whipple's men if needed and to prevent a surprise charge from hitting our backs when we're least prepared.”
“Thank you, sir!” Beaumont's normally boisterous voice was subdued. “My men appreciate your confidence.” Parno nodded and raised a hand in dismissal. Beaumont raised a hand in half salute and returned to scream at his men a bit more, this time encouragingly. Parno chuckled lightly, shaking his head at the man. He really was a force of nature.
“Any last orders, milord?” Whipple's voice made him turn. The Archery Brigadier was sitting his horse beside the Prince, still carrying his bow. Parno decided the man likely didn't realize he was carrying it at all.
“General Beaumont and his men will screen your men as you engage, should it become necessary,” Parno told the archer. “Remember, three flights and flee. I want no casualties of any kind that we can possibly avoid.”
“It will be so, milord,” Whipple nodded.
“Carry on, then, and Godspeed,” Parno ordered. Whipple raised his bow to his brow and then hurried back to his own men,
“Quite a pair, aren't they, Harrel?” Parno noted. “More like drill sergeants than Brigadiers, aren't they.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“Both came up through the ranks, milord,” Sprigs replied. “Whipple had the advantage of nobility in so far as education was concerned, but he entered the army as a private and asked no special privilege. Beaumont actually began his career as a private as well, then left active duty for a while for a posting in the Tinsee militia, after which he was called back to active duty to teach horsemanship. He was commissioned a Captain and placed in charge of the riding school at Donson Academy. From there he managed to gain a field command and since then has worked his way up to his present rank.” By the time Sprigs had
He had meant it when he'd told Enri Willard that the older man had earned his trust, but Parno would likely never trust anyone to the degree he had trusted Darvo. The old soldier had been his only real father in a time when his family shunned him and the royal retainers followed suit for the most part. It had been a favorite pastime to 'pick' on the royal that no one would defend.
No one but Darvo. The man had never once deserted him, misled him, turned away from him. Always Darvo had been there for him. Always.
But not anymore.
Parno shook those thoughts away. He had no time for this. Self-pity of any kind was as unknown to him as fear for his physical well-being. And right now he had much bigger things than his -.
“Rider coming, milord,” Harrel Sprigs mentioned softly, pointing toward a galloping horse that had just emerged from the woods. Parno hadn't even known Sprigs was nearby.
He squinted at the rider, recognizing him as one of Parson's scouts. The man practically slid to a halt, his horse foaming with sweat.
“Milord, the heathen are no more than five hundred yards out and advancing!” the man reported breathlessly. “Cap'n Parson requests orders, sir!”
“Withdraw to the east and continue to screen the flank against possible infantry attack,” Parno ordered at once with no need for thought. “Keep us aware of any danger to our right. We'll worry with the 'heathen' from here on out.”
“Sir!” the man nodded and was once more in motion, on his way back to relay these new orders. Parno attracted Beaumont's attention and waved him over.
“We have minutes at best,” Parno concluded after repeating the warnings of the scout. “You're ready I presume?”
“That we are, milord,” Beaumont nodded grimly. “Ready and waiting.”
“Good,” Parno nodded. “I want you and your men to be the rear-guard when we withdraw,” he told Beaumont and the man literally came to attention in the saddle.
“You'll be there to screen Whipple's men if needed and to prevent a surprise charge from hitting our backs when we're least prepared.”
“Thank you, sir!” Beaumont's normally boisterous voice was subdued. “My men appreciate your confidence.” Parno nodded and raised a hand in dismissal. Beaumont raised a hand in half salute and returned to scream at his men a bit more, this time encouragingly. Parno chuckled lightly, shaking his head at the man. He really was a force of nature.
“Any last orders, milord?” Whipple's voice made him turn. The Archery Brigadier was sitting his horse beside the Prince, still carrying his bow. Parno decided the man likely didn't realize he was carrying it at all.
“General Beaumont and his men will screen your men as you engage, should it become necessary,” Parno told the archer. “Remember, three flights and flee. I want no casualties of any kind that we can possibly avoid.”
“It will be so, milord,” Whipple nodded.
“Carry on, then, and Godspeed,” Parno ordered. Whipple raised his bow to his brow and then hurried back to his own men,
“Quite a pair, aren't they, Harrel?” Parno noted. “More like drill sergeants than Brigadiers, aren't they.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“Both came up through the ranks, milord,” Sprigs replied. “Whipple had the advantage of nobility in so far as education was concerned, but he entered the army as a private and asked no special privilege. Beaumont actually began his career as a private as well, then left active duty for a while for a posting in the Tinsee militia, after which he was called back to active duty to teach horsemanship. He was commissioned a Captain and placed in charge of the riding school at Donson Academy. From there he managed to gain a field command and since then has worked his way up to his present rank.” By the time Sprigs had
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