1 in 10 casualties. 1 in 10 for the first clash. The second day wasn’t much better. Micky’s division had severely reduced casualties after Micky dedicated his defense to the forest. He had even joined up with his fellow neighbor to repel the increasing invasions from the forest. Interestingly enough Maymay was the centurion two rows down. So with the combined forces of the three, they had been capable of forcing the enemy back into the forests. This was as opposed to the opposite flank witch had strictly followed orders up until the second day.

On the third day, a new division had taken over the flank after the dissolution of the following two from casualties as the left flank had ended in a route the following two days. This one completely abandoning their post to take up a defensive to prevent incursions from the forest. But it was already too little too late. Command was granting them reinforcements from the dissolved divisions but they took the ranked, elites, and soldiers while only filling in the numbers with levies. It was not going well. The left flank was responsible for a full ½ to ⅔ of the casualties. All of this because of the commands of leadership.

Micky looked down upon the command table from the theater for the legates. He could see the ‘predictions’ of the lines and success of the maneuvers coming back and forth and even Micky could tell that it was total bull. First of all the legate still refused to believe that the enemy would come from out of the forests. Such maneuvers were ‘vulgar’, ‘distasteful’, and ‘plebian’. These were ‘not’ the maneuvers of a trained army on the battlefield. One should meet the enemy man to man and fight for dominance of the field, blah, blah, blah. Micky would have fallen asleep if he wasn’t so angry and unnerved. Even the advisors were out of it, but not as much as the legate was. He seemed to think this should be going like his training exercises. Formations square up and charge. Commands are relayed in real time and followed explicitly. Then he wins.

The advisors were advising differing strategies relating to countering the inevitable incursions from the forest on the sides but they ranged from seriously underestimating the threat to insane. One advisor even suggested making two divisions of pure mages launching artillery into the forest to quote ‘Teach these barbarians a lesson on the proper rules of warfare’ end quote. Not only would that be terrible, it would end terribly for them more than the foe. The enemy was getting better at charging out with infantry or cavalry as the need arises and cavalry were famously known for outmaneuvering mages.

Micky looked over to one of the centurions that was actually sleeping. He was a center so he ‘knew’ what his mission was going to be from the start. It hadn’t changed today and wouldn’t change tomorrow either. Oh how he envied this contemporary. What he would give to be either lax, or asleep in this folly. Alas twas not to be, Micky stared off through the maneuvers one after another as they proposed things. Some were intriguing like the twin fang. It was a maneuver to send two columns of cavalry up though either side of the center and pushing through the momentum. This was of course, thrown out. But the sheer intrigue of the mauneuver of forcing open an opening with cavalry like that had merit in and of itself. Or so Micky thought anyway. Even the advisor himself didn’t see the maneuver worth much thought he just wanted to propose something to get advice from his contemporaries.

When the meeting was over Micky was glad to leave. He had so much to do and so little time to do it in. He had been having a conversation and considering the success with outmaneuvers the enemy was having they proposed it was about damn time they started night fighting. The enemy not the allies. So the trio of himself and his two fellow centurions are building a reinforced mini fort for their camp. This way they could build larger better and faster. They had been told to stop reinforcing their camps to allow the troops time to recover as well as decrease the complexity of the camps to allow for faster traversal from inside to outside camp. However, Micky hadn’t listened after the first day.

And now he was being pulled aside by a guard. He was instructed to follow to the legate’s office which was set aside. There was a veritable building of tents set up just for the legate. He had made himself a little tent mansion. Or at least an estate of all sorts of tents just for the use of himself and his servants. Micky understood as some were the offices of his clerks or, like in this case, himself. That wasn’t to mention the personal servants like maids to keep everything in check. And there was also the slave stable he had passed.

However, when Micky came to the legates tent and could feel the physical sneer from the guards guarding the tent he knew that something was not right. Had he figured out that he had traded off that rum for more siege magic regents? Maybe he knew about the scrap metal he traded 10 to 1 for new gear, way below market price.

When Micky entered the tent he was still stewing in his secret dealings when the legate whirled on him. “You dare!” He screeched.

Micky bowed his head and stated “Sir, how may I serve?” though it seemed to be a bit late and a measure short.

“Don’t you ‘sir, how may I serve’ me! You dared to ignore my direct orders! I told you, I told you to ignore the forest and assault the flanks! I told you to charge them down! Had you charged the enemy on day one we could have already been at the gates of that quant little fortress they are building. But no! Instead time and time again you ignore my orders and protect the flank from those ‘piddling’ little raiders from the forest that aren’t even worth our time. We need to charge and assault, not hide behind the lines.” Stated the legate as he bared down on Micky.

Oh, Micky was seeing where this was going. It was something he did not like. It was something he did not like one bit. “Ha, permission to speak freely sir?” Micky said.

“You little shit, do you think...” The legate started.

“I don’t think that Count Alderson is going to like that you're throwing your shit and sacrificing his men. These men should be paying him taxes or saving their homes, not dying a pointless death because their commander can’t realise that it isn’t working.” Micky stated.

“Don’t you think...” The legate blurted.

“Oh I know, I know that the count will bring this up should I state it to him. Should my worries be known the count may take offense.” Micky continued.

“I knew it! I knew you were the count’s little fuckboy! I swear I will bring you in for treason and chop off your head personally.” Stated the legate.

Yes, Micky knew that it was something he wasn’t going to like. He also knew he had to do something about it. He was now in for a bit he might as well go in for a copper. “And you would lose your head soon after. Don’t think the count would allow it to pass simply because you are some distant something or other to an archduke that doesn’t even know your name. He will have you for breakfast. And since you're on the hefty side, then lunch and dinner too!” Micky said.

“How dare you!” Said the legate.

“But do you dare? I’m just a ‘piddling’ centurion, no skin lost. But you my friend are not. The count would love for the excuse to tear into you.” Micky said. And the legate sat down defeated. This was a draw of mutual destruction… or well so the legate thought anyway.

“You will listen to orders and obey.” Stated the legate with a weak glare.

“I will continue to protect the flank. It is sheer idiocy to allow the enemy to attack unchecked when clearly they have been gaining the initiative.” Returned Micky.

“Fine, I will not hear any more of this and in return you will not hear any more from me. You are dismissed.” The legate said with a wave. This time he was clear that if he ignored his dismissal he would be executed.

Micky left with a “Sir, as you will, sir.” and a bow of his head. He left the legate’s tent thinking. The legate was far too aggressive for this to simply be his mild and successful insubordination.