As a single chime rang out over the camp, Gregory left the tent with Rafiq behind him. The cooks were in the process of pulling a cauldron off the fire.
“Sir!” Basal called out.
Gregory looked back to find the boy with three bowls and tankards in his arms. “Oh? Bring your own bowl, hmm?”
“They were all issued one, sir,” Basal told him, “along with a cup and cutlery. They are responsible for washing their implements. If they are dirty, they will not be fed.”
“I see.” Gregory accepted a bowl and cup from Basal. “Let’s go get in line.”
As they approached the serving line, Davis waved Gregory to the front. “Sir, officers get theirs first.”
Walking down the line of men under his command, Gregory felt bad about it. He was here after them, so it felt wrong to go before they did. Finally reaching the two men at the cauldron, he held his wooden bowl out.
The guard ladled out a serving of the soup with a smile. “Enjoy, sir, but mind the bones.”
The light scent of chicken drifted up to his nose. “I will.”
Another guard came out of the tent behind the cookfire with a keg on his shoulder. He took position off to the side, waiting for the others. Gregory shifted over, careful to balance the bowl in one hand as he put the tankard under the tap of the keg. The guard gave him a grin as he opened the tap and let the liquid out in a slow stream.
“Diluted wine, sir. We have it mixed in town,” the guard explained, seeing his expression. “One cup at breakfast and dinner.”
“Thank you,” Gregory said. He stepped aside, then looked back the way he’d come, frowning— Rafiq and Basal were in line where he’d been, as they hadn’t moved forward with him.
“Surprised you didn’t just have your squire get it for you, sir,” Davis said.
“I note you didn’t, either, Lieutenant.”
“I prefer the men to see me, sir.”
“As would I. I will be taking my meals with them. Where do they eat?”
“Anywhere they can sit,” Davis said.
Gregory moved a little way off, then gracefully lowered himself to the ground. Only his conditioning let him manage it without spilling his meal. Davis looked impressed as he did the same.
“Surprised, Lieutenant?”
“Not many outside of the service can do that so fluidly.”
“I’ve trained my body over the last few years. I’m flexible. What about the men? Do they not all have that ability?”
“They’ve learned over the last year, sir. Some might splash a little, but even they’re improving. Practice makes perfect.”
Gregory set his tankard beside him. Summoning his spoon from his ring, Gregory began to eat.
“Spatial item, sir?”
“Yes. It keeps the things I need on me. I will be making sure to pick up a couple of things when I visit Grakle again. I can cheat to a degree.”
Davis chuckled. “Yes, sir.”
“I have questions, but I’ll be asking them tonight with the sergeants.”
“Understood, sir.”
Gregory ate slowly, watching his men get their food. He watched a couple of them have difficulties sitting down with the bowl and tankard in hand. A few more carefully set their cup down, then knelt instead of sitting, making it even less likely to spill.
“Where’s Willof?”
“Getting his things in order. My boy came out to get his food for him.”
The soup was bland; it had seasoning, but it was barely there at all. The wine was diluted enough that he doubted anyone could even catch a buzz from it. The flavors between meal and wine weren’t all that compatible, either, though no one seemed to care.
Rafiq came their way once he had his food. “Do you mind, Gregory?”
Gregory held his hand up. “Give me your bowl.”
Rafiq set the bowl in Gregory’s upraised hand, then took his seat. “Thank you. I could manage, but that was easier.”
“Basal went back to the tent?”
“I believe so.”
Gregory nodded, handing the bowl back. “Mind the bones.” He nodded to the small pile he’d made in front of his legs.
“I can eat them,” Rafiq said. “They won’t harm me as they would you.”
“Good to know. What happens to the bones, Davis?”
“Just put them in your bowl when you finish. Basal will dispose of them. All the men scrape their bowls into the tub, which is carted off to the midden after the meal.”
“Best we can do?”
“It is, sir.”
Gregory took a long drink, his eyes scanning the guard. “They look content enough. Might start complaining tomorrow.”
“How hard are you planning on drilling them, sir?” Davis asked softly.
“No harder than I push myself. The first week will just be conditioning with the Peaceful Fist. After that, we’ll see. These men are my responsibility, and my life might depend on them. That makes me want to make sure they’re as prepared as I can make them.”
“Do you expect us to be in dangerous places, sir?”
“No idea about next year, but my magus posting is going to be at the embassy in Krogga.”
Davis’ eyebrows went up. “You’re certain, sir?”
“Yes.”
“We’ll need them to be as prepared for fighting as we can make them, then. I’ve talked to magi guards who’ve been to the embassy. Fights happen all the time; the Kroggians seem to look for reasons to test the guards posted there.”
“All the more reason to start tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
They finished eating, but Gregory sat there a little longer while Rafiq ate. No one came close to them, and Gregory knew the men were probably leery about the magi eating with them. He had a plan— based on what he’d read in Lighthand’s journals— to help make things more comfortable for them.
“Sir, if you’re ready?” Davis asked, standing up.
“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” Gregory said. “I’ll wait for my friend to finish.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll be in my tent.”
“I’ll be along momentarily.”
Rafiq was nearly done, so Gregory put the bones back in his empty bowl.
“After the meeting, if you have time, I’d like to play a game of Go, Rafiq.”
“I’d be glad to play. I’ll take the bowl, spoon, and cup to Basal.”
Gregory got to his feet before handing over his dirty dishes. “Thank you.”
Walking slowly, Gregory watched the men as they broke apart after dinner. Each of them scraped their bowls into a half-barrel by the cookfire before walking away. The five men on cooking duty didn’t seem perturbed while they got things wrapped up for the night. A couple of them were scraping the cauldron clean into their own bowls.
“Excuse me,” Gregory said as he paused near them. “Is that one of the perks of being on kitchen duty?”
“Sir!” one of the men jerked, saluting him. “It is, sir.”
“At ease. I was just curious. There was just enough to give you each an extra half-serving; that’s fine. I’d only be concerned if it was double or triple what everyone gets.”
The men relaxed, glad that he wasn’t going to yell at them.
“Is the seasoning for the soup a set amount each time?”
“It’s a set amount, sir. It has to be.”
“Thank you. Have a good evening.”
As Gregory walked away, he heard the men behind him whispering.
“Seems nice enough.”
“Didn’t think any magi was so easy to talk to.”
“They say he married into the Warlin family. That’s why we all got jobs.”
The rest was lost to him as he got farther away.
~*~*~
Gregory knocked on the wooden post next to the tent before entering. “Sorry for the delay, men.”
“We were just about to start, sir,” Davis said. “Please join us.”
Gregory took the last open chair. “I’ll have a question or two at the end, but you can begin.”
“Milton, report,” Davis said.
The half-dwarf sergeant stood up. “My men will have everything clean and back in order before Townson’s squad takes over the kitchen. The men have asked if the seasoning allowance could be increased a little.” He glanced at Gregory, then sat. “That’s all I have, sir.”
“Milton, I won’t find fault with what is said,” Gregory spoke up. “You held back because of me. This is the chance for me to learn; how can I if you hold back?”
“With all due respect, sir,” Milton replied, “my men worry about you. You spoke of conditioning, but without more to go on, their nerves are high.”
“Understandable,” Gregory nodded. “Tomorrow will have answers, but since you’re their leaders, I will demonstrate after this meeting what I’ll be teaching them after breakfast.”
Davis cleared his throat. “As for the seasoning, we’re on the budget set for us. I didn’t get as much as I would like. I’m not sure if spices are more expensive than I thought or if the price went up when I bought them, but I’ll be finding out. For now, we’ll deal with what we have.”
“Understood, sir,” Milton replied.
“Townson, you’re up.”
Townson stood. “My men are eager to get into the kitchen. They are sure they can do better.”
“Good luck with that,” Milton snorted.
“My squad has been putting in extra work on sparring. Now that our magi is here, they will tone it back,” Townson went on, ignoring Milton. “Nothing else to report.”
The next few went basically the same: each squad had been getting practice in at something or other, but overall, the sergeants reported them being ready. When they’d all gone, Davis looked at Gregory.
“Sir, if you want to add anything?”
“I won’t be here often. I’m sure even you feel nervous with me being so eager,” Gregory said, then saw the flashes of relief on their faces. “A few things to mention, gentlemen, and you can let it slip to your men as rumor or fact: I have three wives. One is part-fox eurtik, another part-snow owl eurtik, and the third has dwarven blood. I don’t hold prejudices based on heritage. I know some of the men, like you, might’ve worried about that.”
“I will add in,” Willof said softly, “that I’ve seen him and his wives a few times. There’s nothing but love between them. All of his clan that was at the Buldoun tournament had eurtik or other-than-human heritage. They were always having fun together. I would advise you to take him at his word.”
The sergeants looked thoughtful.
“Now, I had three things to bring up, and I need advice from all of you. My bed isn’t right. It’s too cumbersome and heavy for anyone who travels. Sell it and bring me a standard cot. I might have some things better than the men, but I won’t overburden the entire unit with frivolous things like that bed.”
“We can get you a cot, sir,” Davis said, “but it’ll still be a little better than what the men get. It’d been an officer’s cot, but the bed was foisted on us when we got to town. The mayor there said it was ‘his gift to the magi.’ I’m not sure we can sell it without hard feelings.”
“When supplies are to be purchased next, it’ll be loaded up. I’ll deliver it back to the mayor,” Gregory said. “Until then, have it packed away.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Next is gambling among the men. I’m sure you’ve already covered it, but I want it known: vela games only, and no debts are allowed when betting.”
“Already covered, sir. We all know how that can spiral.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. The last topic is a custom that was around in Lionel Lighthand’s day. I will let any of the men who have a concern approach me at meals. That time is open for any of them to bring comments or concerns directly to me.”
“Sir…” Davis started to say.
Gregory held up his hand to stop him. “I’m not undermining any of you. It’s there because Lighthand had proven that even the lowest man being able to approach him had positive results. There might be times the men disagree with one of you, but won’t bring it forward. This would give them that outlet. Any of you will always be able to approach me in privacy— as long as I am awake— and I will listen. You all have more experience than me, so I’m going to listen, then discuss things with Davis without mentioning names. I want us to be the best unit in the empire.”
“It’s well outside the norm, sir,” Davis said slowly, “but we’ll do what you want.”
“Thank you. Now, as for conditioning tomorrow morning,” Gregory chuckled, then stood up. “We have to move everything back. We need room.”
