Nrkka Driv Obbst watched the six Drivvas under his command drilling their fifty man slave levies in pike and rifle. Three levies on rifle and three levies on pike to make the best use of the limited access to the training grounds they had available.

His knuckles still ached pleasantly from the discussion he’d had with one of his Drivvas over how best to train the levies, the Drivva had maintained that training them properly was a waste since they were only expected to act as a disposable shield for more valuable units. Obbst had argued with a considerable amount of force that any opponent the levies took down was one less the more valuable units had to concern themselves with. Smiling, he watched the Drivva wincing every now and then as he now fervently and passionately trained his levies to fight as well as they possibly could.

Most higher ranks in the Confederacy army still held the same view the Drivva had held but Obbst knew the next campaign would not be against other Confederacy Armies. Those factions had all fallen in line or simply fallen before the raw power Bloodmage Primus Folscach had obtained from somewhere. Obbst knew with certainty there would be no internal wars until Primus Folscach was toppled and with the power he’d already shown that would not be any time soon.

There was a certain rhythm to a battle with other confederacy forces, both sides knew how the battle would flow. But unlike many of his fellow Nrkkadriv’s, Obbst had fought the Beastmen of the Wildlands, skirmished with the herdsmen of the Oruc up high on their plateau and had even campaigned far to the south against Raelian and Fae forces. After making something of a name for himself among those who mattered he’d come home to join the Confederacy Army at the rank his Herdkeeper’s position on the council entitled him to. Not a high rank because Herdkeeper Halas was not particularly influential within the council but it was a command rank so not to be discounted. In times of war, promotion would be fast and promotion from a command rank was certain.

War that he was certain was coming now that the internal factions were quelled.

Primus Folcach needed to turn the eyes of the Confederacy outward, to expansion in an attempt to solidify his hold on the council. To do that he would look to the Wildlands, to the Oruc plateau and the Raelian mountain fastnesses beyond and ultimately to the Fae realms on the shores of the Eye of The Unmentioned, the great sea far to the south.

Obbst knew those opponents had completely different battle doctrines and knew standard confederacy tactics would not suffice. It worked well against Cadogan Battlemages as their major ritual workings were very slow to build and swiftly degraded so soaking those rituals with massed slaves was an effective tactic but against Fae Mages, Oruc Shaman or Raelian Chanters that would be worse than useless. Their magics could be held to be unleashed at need or were insidious things that had long term effects, against them he believed the slave levies would be far more needed to fight the regular troops all those races employed in their normal tactical doctrine.

Cadogan battles were usually decided by surviving the powerful rituals striking in the initial minutes of a battle and then by the overwhelming force brought to bear after them by individual great heroes. Heroes who would be swarmed under by the regular troops other forces utilised.

So Obbst had decided to train his fodder to be a little more battleworthy than the normal run of slave levy because he intended to end this war only a step from a council position. When they were handing out the Overseer positions in the new territories he aimed to be the best choice to either be awarded a new territory and a seat on the council, unlikely, or to step into one of the vacated Overseer positions in established territories and a seat on the council that way.

Either way he would have assured a good life for himself and an increase in his herd's status.

But that was the future, right now he needed to go and discuss with another of his Drivvas exactly why this training was being done as he said because he could see from here that Nasrks was in dire need of a sharp reminder to follow his orders.

Obbst touched the magic and felt it's sweet burn flow through him, erupting into golden tipped flames he enhanced his hulking frame and he leapt.

His half-ton weight landed with a thud directly in front of the Drivva as a small cloud of dust raised itself from the trampled training ground around his hooves.

The Drivva recoiled but quickly erupted in a towering inferno of green tinged flame.

Throwing his head back Obbst roared a challenge, Nasrks answered that challenge with a roar of his own. Inside Obbst rejoiced, fighting was what Minotaurs did, it was their life, their goal, their only true love!

Now Obbst must wait. The challenge rules for Minotaurs were enshrined in history and very rigid, otherwise every fight would be a fight to the death.

Nasrks showed he was a better than average fighter by waiting for a few beats, building his magic to a peak before attacking.

Charging forward he swung a green glowing fist now almost the size of Obbst’s head at his gut, a disabling energy sapping blow.

He chuckled and saw Nasrks’ eyes widened, whether in rage or realisation he didn’t know.

He could have avoided the attack completely but instead trusting to his superiority he used a quick order focus ability. Now everything inflicted on him would be replicated on his opponent.

Unless you were much more powerful than your opponent this was generally not a good idea because their shield would easily handle the returned damage. Obbst didn’t expect the shield to be a concern.

He waited as the young bull’s unstoppable charge played out, one beat, two beats, now!

His flame coated fist hammered into the younger bull's shield and the shield shattered into sparkling fragments of light.

Grinning confidently Obbst spread his arms wide and dropped his own shield, grinning in joy because this fight was over. Nasrks fist, streaming flame and backed by nearly half a ton of Minotaur slammed into Obbst’s midsection.

They both grunted at the force of the blow, doubling over… but mere moments passed before Obbst straightened and struck, his fist landing on the back of Nasrks still bowed head.

A thud sounded as the younger bull's face slammed into the dust of the training ground and his form changed to the natural shape all Minotaurs were born as, that of a bull.

Half expecting this change to the younger bull’s true form to be a sham Obbst warily took two steps left then kicked him hard in the side. When there was no reaction other than a purely mechanical grunt, he relaxed.

He grunted at one of the slaves who'd paused in their drill to watch the fight, “You! Fetch a bucket and wake him up.”

The slave, a Satyr from the Wildlands, ran off as fast as his cloven hooves could carry him and returned in moments with a bucket of water. Obbst tersely motioned for him to dump it on the unconscious bull.

Water streaming from his mane and matting his thickly furred chest hair together, blinking groggily Nasrks got his hooves under him and stood, swaying slightly.

“Drivva! Atten-hut!”

Nasrks blurred into his bipedal form and saluted as his eyes cleared.

Obbst said, “We will have no more problems with training the levies as though they were valued members of our forces rather than fodder to be used and discarded. Will we, Drivva?!”

“No. We will not Nrkkadriv. By your leave.”

“Dismissed.”

As Nasrks started shouting at the slaves Obbst walked back to his position to continue observing and encouraging the correct attitude in his subordinates.

********

A couple of peals later Obsst was walking the streets of Chelavis city, the capital of the Cadogan Confederation. The dust and sweat of the training yards had been scrubbed from his hide by the slaves at the bathhouse, he was perfumed, his mane braided with his rank ribbons, and his herd markings repainted. The single swirling white line around his right horn and the solid white of his left horn were now gleaming and showing none of the chips and smudges his activity over the last few days had inflicted on the smooth paint.

Truly he detested such pampering and the finery he was wearing, he much preferred the simple loincloth and leather harness of a fighter but he had an appointment with his Herdkeeper. So he was dressed in the formal leather kilt, orange dyed sash and cowl, and orange dyed hoof covers of his rank. He did have to admit there was one advantage of his relatively low rank, higher rank formal dress became much fancier, more encompassing, and much more stifling in the muggy heat of the city.

As he walked he was surrounded by bustling activity. Minotaurs, Centaurs, Iaernide Nobles with their soldiers and servants, all moved through the thronging crowds of slaves who cowered out of the way of any of a higher social standing, including the slaves of higher ranked citizens.

As a citizen and a member of a councilman's herd there were very few he had to give way to so he strode along uncaring, fully expecting almost all in his path to give way. The only ones he really gave any notice to were the metallic forms of the Iaernide, only because the servants and soldiers were fairly stupid and he couldn’t be bothered fighting right now if he triggered their protection routines. The noble would control them eventually of course but it would take time, time he didn’t really have.

So instead of ignoring them as he did everyone else he simply stepped around them.

He loved this time of day right after the sun had set but before the chill air flowed down off the plateau and cooled the city dramatically, usually he would meet with other Bulls to gamble and drink the early hours of the evening away. Then once the chill of the night hit they would fight, testing themselves as was the Minotaur way and increasing the status of their herd and their Herdkeeper but not tonight. Tonight he must find out what Herdkeeper Halas wanted from him.

As he headed toward the outskirts of the city the crowds thinned and his speed increased until he was moving at a steady ground eating jog, one he could keep up for days if needed.

Soon enough he entered the city outskirts where the Herdkeeper’s estates were, widely separated Villas that stood among the grassy fields where the herds grazed and lived.

Widely separated because Herdkeepers were never that fond of their neighbours.

Passing the Herds in their fields he couldn’t help but look to see if any new births had occurred and see if he had a new herd protector to train. Minotaur were rare births among the herds, only two or three with the capability to shift were born in any generation usually. Their sisters, their mother and in many cases even their father remained unintelligent beasts. His own bloodline was unusual in that every male born to it was born with the ability to take on the form of a herd protector, a Minotaur.

Breathing deeply Obbst strolled slowly around the semi-circular receiving portal of the house, cooling down after his run. A slave holding a dampened and scented towel ran out to him, taking it he wiped the light sheen of sweat from the skin of his arms, neck, and hairless sections of his torso as he walked.

Handing the towel back to the slave he asked, “The Herdkeeper?”

“In the Courtyard, Master.”

He did a couple more circuits of the yard to cool down fully then stretched out before he headed into the house proper. The heads of the nails driven into his hooves for grip clattered on the mosaic of the floor as he walked through the villa and entered the central courtyard. The cool of the area, due to the central pool and gently tinkling fountain and the shade of the decorated sails was extremely welcome.

Bloodmage Halas, his Herdkeeper, was standing at an easel painting. The mare who was his model had her head turned to look back over her flanks with a come hither look and the pose threw the well developed muscles under the smooth skin of her humanoid upper torso into sharp relief.

Obbst stood patiently and waited to be acknowledged by the Centaur stallion.