Chapter 108: Echo (Part 1)

Two weeks past the end of the Months of Demons, the snow had finished surrendering. It left quietly, running off in thin streams toward the Shishui River, and behind it came the ordinary world: the trees on both banks greening again, the fields showing brown, the mud roads temporarily impassable.

The ground Anna had cleared east of Border Town — the tree-line she had cut back with the green flame during the wall construction — now served as the First Army’s practice field. Wide enough for formations, firm enough for drills, close enough to the town that Roland could watch from the tower if he chose.

Carter held the new bayonet up and turned it in the morning light.

It was, by any honest standard, an absurdity. A triangular iron spike, short as a dagger, that attached to the end of a musket barrel via a rotating sleeve mount. As a standalone weapon it was useless — the blade too short to slash, the geometry wrong for throwing, the grip a barrel rather than a handle. If a blacksmith in his former territory had produced this and called it a weapon, Carter would have expressed his opinion physically and at some length.

But he looked at the lug mount — the two grooves cut at right angles into the barrel end, the matching protrusions on the bayonet sleeve, the half-rotation that locked them together — and found himself admiring it in spite of everything. The tolerances were deliberately loose. If the fit was sloppy, you wedged a scrap of paper in the gap before rotating. If you had no paper, a leaf worked. The design assumed imperfection and accommodated it. That was, in Carter’s assessment, genuinely clever.

He had also worked out immediately how to use it. A bayonet was nothing but a short spear with unusual attachment. Short spear technique was simpler than most weapons: plant your foot, bend the knee, extend through the hip. One motion, repeated until it was faster than thought. He could teach this.

“Fix bayonets!”

The forty soldiers who had received the new weapons drew them from their bags and worked the sleeve onto the barrel. The others — not yet equipped — had wooden sticks fitted to their muzzles. By now most of the trained men needed only two or three adjustments before the bayonet locked. A month ago they had each needed six or seven.

He ran them through the stabbing drill for an hour. The movement was monotonous by design: foot, knee, extension. Step, recover, step. They did it without complaint, which still surprised him slightly. When he had trained squires, they had complained about everything that did not involve horses or swords. These men — miners, hunters, farmers — put their bodies through the same motion four hundred times without visible resentment. He would not have chosen them for their quality of raw material, but whatever had happened to them over the last three months had produced something worth the name of soldier.

Still couldn’t fight with a stick, any of them. He kept this thought to himself.

At the break he let them sit. He was watching Iron Axe run a new recruit through the tent-rigging drill in the corner of the field when movement at the gate drew his eye.

Roland had arrived, with a woman beside him. She wore a hood; she was tall, almost matching the Prince’s height, and moved with the particular economy of someone accustomed to being watched. Carter signaled the formation to stand.

“Your Highness!” Two hundred voices and raised fists.

Roland nodded, waved the acknowledgment. He was moving to speak with Carter when one of the ranks broke.

Carter’s hand went to his sword hilt before he had consciously decided to. Nightingale was faster still — her hand materialized from empty air and closed on Roland’s arm, the connection already made that would pull him sideways into whatever space she occupied when she vanished.

But the man sprinting from the ranks was Iron Axe.

And he did not run toward Roland.

He ran to the woman in the hood. He covered the distance in five strides, and then he was on the ground — not the formal single knee of the Kingdom’s greeting, but flat out, forehead between his forearms, his whole body pressed to the earth.

“My Clan Leader.”

Two hundred soldiers stood in complete silence.

Carter looked at Roland. Roland looked at the two figures on the ground and at the standing figure, whose hand had gone to her hood without having drawn it back yet.

“Form up,” Carter said, to the formation, which had not technically broken. “Hold position.”

Nobody moved. Nobody made a sound.

The woman reached down and slowly lowered her hood.

Roland brought them back to the castle.

He sat at the lord’s position and looked at the three of them — Carter, Echo, and Iron Axe — standing in the row, and reminded himself that the irritation was appropriate and should be expressed clearly before he let it go.

“Explain. One at a time.”

Iron Axe began.

The story was not complicated, but it had enough distance in it that Carter listened with one part of his attention and Roland with all of his. The Osha Clan in Ironsand City. The triennial sacred duels, six clans competing for the right to live inside the city walls, four exiled to survive outside them or flee to the Green Sea. The duel three years ago, and the black oil on the Tibia whip, and Echo’s brother burning. The exile to the Endless Cape, and her father killed after surrendering, and Echo taken by slavers to the Port of Clearwater.

Iron Axe — half-blood, adopted, not bound by the exile order — had refused the offers of the remaining clans and gone after her. He had reached Clearwater. He had found no trace of her. He had traveled west, eventually arriving at the edge of the kingdom, and had been there when the Prince’s call for able fighters reached the border region.

Echo: “I am not the Clan Leader.”

Iron Axe: “You are.”

“No —”

“Your father died. Your brother died.” His voice was not loud. It had a specific quality that made loudness unnecessary. “By Osha custom, from the moment of the Patriarch’s death, the succession passes to the eldest surviving child. That is you. Silver Moon. My Clan Leader.”

Roland let the silence run for a moment. Then: “Echo. What do you want?”

She looked at him. Four years of being sold twice and the Association and the Impassable Mountain Range were in her face, somewhere underneath her composure. “I let go of revenge a long time ago. I don’t know if any of my people survived the Cape. I don’t have anywhere to go.” She paused. “Please let me stay.”

He had already decided to keep her. The marching program depended on her, practically speaking. But he let it be something he said, rather than something already settled.

“You’ll stay,” he said. “Both of you.” He turned to Iron Axe. “The oil.”

Iron Axe blinked.

“When you described the Endless Cape earlier — the fire from the ground, the black liquid in the pits. Was the fire orange?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And the pits — how large?”

“Large enough to fall into without finding the bottom.” Iron Axe’s brow had creased. “The fires burn for years without going out. The old Clan Leader said his father’s father had seen them burning when he was young and they burned the same when he was old.”

Oil fields. Roland sat with the implication for a moment. Open-surface petroleum, abundant enough to burn visibly for generations, in a region controlled by six clans who competed for survival. If he could extend political influence south — if Iron Axe’s knowledge of Ironsand City’s power dynamics could be used to establish alignment with one of the clans — the supply implications were considerable. Every major industrial transition in his memory had eventually come back to fuel.

Later, he thought. Much later. One campaign at a time.

He stood.

“Iron Axe.” He walked in front of the man, who straightened further, which Carter had not thought possible. “You broke formation in the presence of your commanding officer and your Prince. You left your position without an order. You physically prostrated yourself before a third party while on duty.” He paused. “Two days’ confinement. You will use the time to reflect on what discipline means for the army I am building.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Iron Axe’s voice was entirely without resentment. If anything he sounded grateful.

Roland turned to Carter. “Resume training. You’re leading the march today as well.”

Carter caught the faintest trace of something in Roland’s expression — not quite amusement, but close to it — before the Prince turned away. He let it pass without comment.

“Sir,” he said, and went back to the field.

Chapter 108 Echo (Part 1)

The Months of the Demons had already ended two weeks ago, and the snow has finally turned into streams which ran into the Shishui River.

The spotlessly white landscape slowly faded away, and the trees on both sides began to sprout again, becoming green once more.

The land to the east of Border Town was the land Anna that had already cleared of trees and snow, and because of this it had now been turned by His Highness into the temporary practice ground for the First Army.

At the practice ground, Carter was holding a gun and checking if the bayonet was securely installed.

This was the newest invention of His Highness, but compared to the automatic operating machine and the modified snow powder, this new invention seemed to be a little too simple. The moment he had for the first time taken the new weapon into his hands, Carter knew almost immediately that it wasn’t a qualified weapon.

In short, it was just a sharp iron triangle, with the middle line as the base, which had two small iron pieces pointing downwards. Although it had a sharp edge, it was absolutely impossible to slash with the weapon – the blade was just too short, if it had to bend, it would immediately break. It had hardly any tip to speak of while the other end was only around a thumb thick. Even if he was able to attack an enemy, if he tried to slash out horizontally, Carter couldn’t say whether he would even be able to cut apart the enemy’s clothes.

This weapon had only one use, and that was, stabbing. And before it could even be used it still had to be connected to the gun. Used by itself, even a dagger would be a better weapon.

In the eyes of the knight, it was totally unqualified to be used as a weapon and a big waste of pig iron to create such weapon with only one type of attack. If a blacksmith within his territory had dared to create such a weapon, he would have tied the man and given him one fierce beating.

But even if it was such a bad weapon, Carter could still see His Highness originality and his passion for the all of the details. For example, the design for the connection between the gun and the bayonet. The mouth of the barrel had two grooves with a right angle at its end, as long as the two small iron pieces at the bayonet were fitted into the grooves and the bayonet was turned half around the barrel then the bayonet would become fixed. Thanks to this concept the grooves and the iron pieces didn’t need to fit perfectly, if they were a little too loose, the gunner could just insert some pieces of paper between the two iron pieces and the grooves, and when it fitted better, only then should he rotate the bayonet. In the case that they didn’t have any papers, tree leaves would also be okay.

“Put the bayonet on the gun!”

When they heard the keyword, the gunning team took out the bayonet from their bag, and put it on the gun’s barrel – until now they had only been able to produce forty of the new weapons and their supporting bags. So the soldier who didn’t receive the new weapons had to put a short stick on their guns.

This kind of action was almost trained through the whole morning, and now most soldier only needed to adjust the bayonet two to three times until it was fixed. According to His Highness’ words, the bayonet should only be used as a last resort. He didn’t want his men to start a close combat attack on their own with the bayonet. Carter disagreed with this statement, as long as a man didn’t personally stab a weapon into an enemy, they would still be considered as children. Only if they saw their first blood, would they transform from ordinary miners and hunters into soldiers.

Iron Axe also stood among the ranks of trainees. Although he had previous claimed to only be a hunter, but from his skills Carter could see, that the man had absolutely received special combat training before. His skills weren’t any worse than the skills of any other knight.

His Royal Highness had asked Carter to teach the soldiers how to use the new weapon correctly. Having received this order, Carter felt a little guilty. The bayonet was a kind of weapon he had never seen before, so it was impossible that he couldn’t know how to use it.

However, after seeing the prototype, Carter was once more immediately filled with confidence. After all, the bayonet was nothing other than the equivalent of a short spear. In addition, due to its special blade, it was much easier to use than the pike.

Due to its unique blade design, the bayonet training method has also become very special. They didn’t need to learn how to split, lift, block or sweep with the bayonet, they only had to train one move, stabbing. So the knight let all the soldiers line up and then began to teach them the most suitable method for stabbing – placing one foot before the other, bending the knees and then pushing their arms forward with their maximum amount of power.

This kind of repetitive training method was extremely boring. So Carter was amazed that everyone was so meticulously completing this kind of training exercise. Before the winter they were all still a bunch of weak and lazy civilians, but now they behaved like a decent group of trainees. When Carter shouted a command they would immediately take action, and he had to acknowledge that they even put more effort into the training than the squires he had previously trained. Of course, if he were to give them a sword, or to say it using the words of His Royal Highness, if he gave them “cold weapons”, he would still be able to defeat them with a stick in a mere three strokes. But in terms of their willpower, their progress is already worthy of acknowledgement.

After an hour of training, Carter let the gun team sit down and gave them a break. At this moment His Royal Highness the Prince also showed up on the practice ground, followed by a woman who was wearing a hood. This didn’t take the Knight by surprise. Previously, at the beginning of the training, His Royal Highness had informed him in advance, that during today’s practice they would be assisted by a witch.

However, Carter hadn’t known that the witch would be so tall, as far as he could determine it with his eyes, she was almost as high as His Highness. But

nevertheless she is still exquisite and good looking, Carter thought. Then he came back from his thought and let the soldiers stand up, allowing them to greet the 4th Prince with a salute.

“Your Highness!” The soldiers shouted and raised their hands.

“Thank you for your effort,” receiving their greeting Roland nodded, and walked around since he also wanted to speak with just Carter alone. But at this moment a soldier suddenly rushed in the direction of the Prince. Discovering this Carter frowned, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and took a step forward, placing the Prince behind himself. Nightingale had been even faster to react, her hand appeared out of the fog and grabbed Roland’s arm. As long as the situation turned out to go even slightly wrong, she would be able to pull the Prince into the fog.

But then they discovered that the person was rushing out was actually Iron Axe.

And even more, he didn’t run to the Prince, but instead to the unknown witch, immediately falling down to his knees in front of her. Not the Kingdom’s normal kneeling on one knee, no, he threw his whole body flat on the ground, with his head deeply buried between his arms, “My Clan Leader!”

With this, the training of the gun team came to a forced break.

“First tell me, what’s going on?”

Back in the Castle Hall, Carter, Echo, and Iron Axe stood in a row, while Roland sat at the Lord position, he asked clearly dissatisfied.

Discipline, you have to always maintain discipline! This is one of the most important rules within the militia and now the army should also have the same iron discipline! Not to speak about seeing the Clan Leader, even if you were to see the King you shouldn’t move even a toe out of line. This is the only requirement, there will be always time to report later.

From the beginning on Roland had a very good impression of Iron Axe, but with his action of today, he could only sigh. So his final analysis was, it seemed that his inner cultural quality wasn’t able to keep up with his practical talents, he clearly hadn’t understood the meaning of the word discipline.

“Your Royal Highness,” Iron Axe couldn’t help himself to wait any longer. He wanted to kneel down, showing his regret. But when he was already halfway down on his knee, he was stopped by Roland.

“Stand straight and speak!”

‘Yes!” Iron Axe swallowed nervously, and then began to speak, “I grew up in Ironsand City and vowed my loyalty and devotion to the Osha Clan and the new Clan Leader Silver Moon.”

“No, Kabago, I am not the Clan Leader…” Echo quickly disagreed.

“No, you are,” Iron Axe retorted, “Your father and brother already died, in accordance with the Osha custom, from the moment of their death you became the Clan Leader of our Osha Clan. When I heard that you were sold to the Port of Clearwater I immediately went there, but I was unable to find you, I thought that you had … died.

“But I -”

Roland interrupted Echo, “One by one, first let Iron Axe finish his story.”

“I will obey you until the end of my life, Your Highness.”

…

The story wasn’t complicated; Roland was quickly able to understand the general idea behind what happened.

Echo was originally a member of the Ironsand City’s Osha Clan. Her former name was Silver Moon, and her father had been the Clan Leader of the Osha Clan.

The people of Sand Nation didn’t have an easy life. Ironsand City was only able to accommodate a limited population, so every three years, each clan had to take part in the sacred duel, and the six clans who won would receive the right to live in the city, while the other clans either lived outside of the city, or went together to the Green Sea. These places were dangerous places to live, although they offered water, but the demonic beasts and sandstorms would cause a great threat to the Sandpeople. So during each Sacred Duel, the warriors of various clan would spare no effort in order to win.