why Kiria wasn’t working, but he nodded and
grunted his approval. “How do you suppose they do it? You know. How can they
play like they’ve not a care in the world when for all they know their father
is dead and their whole world is shattered?” Durik’s own mind reached back to
the memories of his own parents’ brutal death during the orc raid six years now
in the past, and he felt an old, familiar ache.
Manebrow’s
signature eyebrows lifted. “Well,” he began, “for all that, they’re still
little. The only way they know to deal with it is to play, I suppose, the same
as my three sons are likely doing right now, I’d imagine.”
Durik
nodded. He remembered it had been some time before he felt like playing again
after his parents were killed, but everyone is different, he thought. “Well,
shall we do our after-talk now or wait until after second meal?”
“Now’s
fine, sire.”
With
that, Manebrow gathered up the company. Durik called to Kiria, who left her
little brothers playing while she came for the meeting. Soon the bulk of the
company was seated on the porch while Durik stood in front of them. Off to one
side Manebrow leaned against the porch and Kiria had parchment out to take
notes.
“Is
everyone enjoying the morning’s activities?” Durik asked. There were several
groans from various warriors in the company. “Well, as I hear it, Manebrow has
got us in with Lord Krall’s cooking staff.” This time there were cheers from
the assembled crowd. “It looks like we’ll be getting resupplied with weapons,
trail rations and such here shortly as well.” Again there were cheers, though
more muted. “Well, I brought everyone together to talk about what happened
these last couple of days. I think it’s absolutely critical that we discuss
both what went right, as well as what went wrong, if we’re going to get and
maintain a competitive edge over our enemies. I’ve only got a few rules.
First, we’re not here to lay blame on anyone, so don’t. Second, everyone’s
comments matter. Third, I won’t hold anything you say here against you, and I
expect the same from all of you. Understood?”
There
was not a warrior in this group who had not been through one of Manebrow’s
after-talks. Durik’s servant Kabbak had not made it through the entire year of
training, but even he’d participated in a few of them. Kiria, on the other
hand, had not. She found the openness and honesty that the fusion between
Durik’s and Manebrow’s leadership styles brought to be refreshing; a definite
change from the constant political positioning of their gen’s council members.
As she looked around herself, she could see that the other warriors all trusted
Durik. Soon, Kiria watched with admiration as Durik pulled comments from the
assembled warriors as though he was plucking fruit from a tree. She got so
caught up in watching him that she forgot for a time that she was supposed to
be taking notes.
Suddenly
Durik’s voice broke into her daydreaming. “Did you get that last one, Kiria?”
he asked.
Kiria
started. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that, Terrim?”
“Well,
perhaps a better way to say it is that we didn’t pack the dogs’ packs in such a
way that we could easily shift pieces of their loads to other dogs, like when
we had to carry the casualties in the ant tunnels before you leaders arrived
with the wolves,” Terrim said.
“Ok,”
Durik said, pointing to Kiria, “so one point is that we need to pack the
packdogs so that we can easily shift their loads to other dogs if necessary.”
Kiria began writing furiously.
“Yes.
That’s right,” Terrim said.
“Good
point,” Durik said and turned his attention to Ardan. “Ardan, what did you
think of our scouting?”
Ardan
laughed under his breath. “Well, sire, it was passable, though I don’t think
we paid as much attention to it as we could have.” He saw that
grunted his approval. “How do you suppose they do it? You know. How can they
play like they’ve not a care in the world when for all they know their father
is dead and their whole world is shattered?” Durik’s own mind reached back to
the memories of his own parents’ brutal death during the orc raid six years now
in the past, and he felt an old, familiar ache.
Manebrow’s
signature eyebrows lifted. “Well,” he began, “for all that, they’re still
little. The only way they know to deal with it is to play, I suppose, the same
as my three sons are likely doing right now, I’d imagine.”
Durik
nodded. He remembered it had been some time before he felt like playing again
after his parents were killed, but everyone is different, he thought. “Well,
shall we do our after-talk now or wait until after second meal?”
“Now’s
fine, sire.”
With
that, Manebrow gathered up the company. Durik called to Kiria, who left her
little brothers playing while she came for the meeting. Soon the bulk of the
company was seated on the porch while Durik stood in front of them. Off to one
side Manebrow leaned against the porch and Kiria had parchment out to take
notes.
“Is
everyone enjoying the morning’s activities?” Durik asked. There were several
groans from various warriors in the company. “Well, as I hear it, Manebrow has
got us in with Lord Krall’s cooking staff.” This time there were cheers from
the assembled crowd. “It looks like we’ll be getting resupplied with weapons,
trail rations and such here shortly as well.” Again there were cheers, though
more muted. “Well, I brought everyone together to talk about what happened
these last couple of days. I think it’s absolutely critical that we discuss
both what went right, as well as what went wrong, if we’re going to get and
maintain a competitive edge over our enemies. I’ve only got a few rules.
First, we’re not here to lay blame on anyone, so don’t. Second, everyone’s
comments matter. Third, I won’t hold anything you say here against you, and I
expect the same from all of you. Understood?”
There
was not a warrior in this group who had not been through one of Manebrow’s
after-talks. Durik’s servant Kabbak had not made it through the entire year of
training, but even he’d participated in a few of them. Kiria, on the other
hand, had not. She found the openness and honesty that the fusion between
Durik’s and Manebrow’s leadership styles brought to be refreshing; a definite
change from the constant political positioning of their gen’s council members.
As she looked around herself, she could see that the other warriors all trusted
Durik. Soon, Kiria watched with admiration as Durik pulled comments from the
assembled warriors as though he was plucking fruit from a tree. She got so
caught up in watching him that she forgot for a time that she was supposed to
be taking notes.
Suddenly
Durik’s voice broke into her daydreaming. “Did you get that last one, Kiria?”
he asked.
Kiria
started. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat that, Terrim?”
“Well,
perhaps a better way to say it is that we didn’t pack the dogs’ packs in such a
way that we could easily shift pieces of their loads to other dogs, like when
we had to carry the casualties in the ant tunnels before you leaders arrived
with the wolves,” Terrim said.
“Ok,”
Durik said, pointing to Kiria, “so one point is that we need to pack the
packdogs so that we can easily shift their loads to other dogs if necessary.”
Kiria began writing furiously.
“Yes.
That’s right,” Terrim said.
“Good
point,” Durik said and turned his attention to Ardan. “Ardan, what did you
think of our scouting?”
Ardan
laughed under his breath. “Well, sire, it was passable, though I don’t think
we paid as much attention to it as we could have.” He saw that
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