My Most Capable Agent
"Most gods throw dice, but Fate plays chess, and you don't find out till too late that he's been playing with two queens all along."
- Terry Pratchett
"We have been gifted with the perfect opportunity to strike," Slovenia continued, leaning forward over the table.
She directed the attention of the circle of captains to the small metal figurines that represented the various lines of units on the battlefield. They were arranged on a large map of woven cloth that gave a detailed representation of the territories controlled by the Wreghan armies as well as the supply lines connecting the various factions that supported her forces. Even a novice tactician would be able to see that their current situation was dire. The line of figurines that represented her forces was shorter, more widely spaced, and in some places completely disconnected from the supply lines. The Skyforge was represented by a long, jagged mark across the top of the map. It served to provide northern orientation. Slovenia's army faced west with its right flank against the Skyforge while Jordan's opposing force faced east and had the Skyforge to its left.
She picked up a small, intricately carved golden figurine and placed it in the space between the Skyforge and the Poan army's left flank. This was the latest update that Israel had been able to glean from her agents' somewhat rambling thought processes. The figurine, which represented Jordan and his bodyguard, was now isolated and exposed. Apparently, Jordan was heading due North, deep into the uncharted Hearthland. From her own right flank, she picked up four of the plain silver figurines that represented her elite infantry and supporting cavalry and moved them into an attacking position against Jordan's left flank. Each silver figurine was the equivalent of a thousand men.
"Jordan's forces are spread thin at the border of the Hearthland. If we rally and strike hard on their left flank while he is absent, we will cut him off from his army. Without his leadership, I doubt very much that any of his captains carry enough authority to keep his forces from routing."
One of the younger captains rose from his seat.
"We should go after that fool of a general too!" he said loudly, stabbing an accusatory finger at the solitary gold figure.
"Strike while we have the opportunity!"
Slovenia favored the young man with a warm smile.
"I certainly appreciate your zeal, Captain," she said, stepping away from the table and taking a seat on the large wicker throne in the center of her tent. It afforded her a commanding position over the table and the assembled men.
"However, you can rest assured that my most capable agent is with him. If Jordan isn't captured or killed, he will at the very least be severely delayed. Long enough for us to strike his flank and change the course of this war. I think it would be wiser to save our forces for an actual battle rather than waste them on a glorified fox hunt."
The assembled men responded positively and waved the impetuous young captain back to his seat. The atmosphere in the tent was now overwhelmingly positive. Slovenia sat back on her throne, observing their reaction with some satisfaction as the Captains murmured and conferred amongst themselves.
"What of our left flank, m'lady? Do we continue to flee from the hounds?"
The speaker possessed a deep baritone voice that cut across the hubbub. A stunned silence descended over the table.
Israel studied the speaker closely. He was a tall, dark-haired warrior. His face had once been handsome, but now was scarred and pockmarked from the ravages of some unknown skin condition. His demeanor struck Israel as odd. Something in the tone of his voice seemed out of place. He spoke as if the Countess was beneath him.
"Captain Uman, I believe you are more than well provisioned to hold the line under your command," Slovenia responded curtly.
She was getting the same impression that Israel was. Uman's outward expression and behavior lacked the same intensity of devotion that the other captains bore for her. Was he immune to her charms? Why had she not detected this before? She resolved to confront him alone and put him to the test. She glanced at Israel and he nodded, acknowledging that he understood her intent.
"My scouts report armored horse troops massing on the southern front," Uman responded, indicating a spot on the map that contained two solitary silver figurines.
"I will grant you that I am well provisioned, but I am also exposed. My forces are predominantly on foot and mostly light-armed. I do not have enough heavy spearmen to protect my line from an infantry attack, let alone a full-scale cavalry charge."
Slovenia considered his position for a moment.
"I understand your concerns. I will have a unit of horse brought up from the vanguard and will have two phalanxes of my pikemen take up position with your foot soldiers. You can assume command of them and lead them back to your lines yourself once we have finished here."
The phalanx units she was referring to had recently been made available. Their Captain, a mountain of a man called Borneo was currently strapped, naked and prostrate to a tall wooden crucifix behind her throne. Otherwise unharmed, he kept his head held high, a not insignificant show of strength for a man in his position, glaring out at the assembled captains with a fierce intensity and refusing to be shamed by his circumstance.
The assembled Captains relaxed visibly and their discussions resumed with renewed vigor. They barely acknowledged their unfortunate colleague's presence.
Israel hurried over to the table to adjust the configuration of iron units to reflect the changes that Slovenia had just described. When he was done, he leaned over Captain Uman's shoulder and whispered something in his ear. The captain turned to listen, nodded, and turned back to continue his conversation with the man beside him.
"My Lords, prepare your men," Slovenia said as she stood up from her wicker throne, "We make our move tonight. We will march under the cover of darkness and, come the morrow, we will deliver a blow the likes of which Jordan's men will never forget."
The men cheered and one by one began to file out of the tent, each bowing to her in turn as they left. Uman remained seated.
