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“Training doesn’t prepare you for the man standing in front of you trying to kill you,” said Loaf. “It doesn’t prepare you for the arrows hailing down on you and there’s nowhere to hide but you have to stand your ground or the battle is lost before it begins.”

“So we go back and try again,” said Param.

“That only works if your army is already hardened and experienced. If the only problem was a failure of tactics or strategy, and by changing that, using the same soldiers, you can change the outcome. But if the problem is the soldiers themselves, then the warnings don’t work. They won’t remember the battle they lost. It will still be the first time they face an enemy.”

“But will the raids really prepare them?” asked Rigg.

“Yes,” said Loaf. “I’ve led men in battle. They don’t have to ha

ve fought a huge army. They just have to have fought somebody. They have to know what it means to stand their ground, to fight loyally beside their comrades. To depend on each other. And to win.”

“So there will be killing in the raids,” said Rigg.

“There’ll be fighting,” said Loaf. “That’s all we need. Yes, a few will die—with luck, only the enemy. But we’ll train our men not to charge in and slaughter the enemy. We’ll train them to disarm captives and control them. We’ll train them for as bloodless a victory as possible. Out of those defeated, demoralized soldiers, we might find many recruits for our own cause. But yes, if they face soldiers who stand and fight, then our men will have to kill them until the rest of them stop fighting. Or nobody’s standing.” Loaf looked around at the others, as if the fierceness of his gaze would convince them.

Olivenko was nodding. “Loaf has fought in war. I never have. But I’ve read about battles till I nearly went blind, and it’s the simple truth. Training is essential, but it’s not enough. You have to blood your soldiers. Maybe not all of them, but enough to hold the fabric together on the battlefield. Things don’t always go your way, even if you achieve surprise. There has to be a cadre that will stand their ground, someone that the others can rally around. That brave cadre is never composed of green troops. It’s always composed of tough veterans.”

“So the raids are to gather supplies and weapons and demoralize the enemy,” said Param. “But they’re also to turn some of our soldiers into those tough veterans.”

“Then there’s no choice at all,” said Umbo.

“There’s a choice,” said Olivenko. “If we take the second path—a green army that appears out of nowhere—I think we have a good chance of winning. Better than even odds. But Haddamander’s soldiers have experience—even if it’s only terrorizing villagers or beating down pathetic village revolts. They’ll know the sight of blood. And they’ll know the terrible things they’ve done, so they’ll believe that their enemy will have no mercy on them if they lose. There’s a chance they’ll have the cadre of veterans that the rest of the army rallies around. I give them one chance in three of winning.”

“Not good enough,” said Rigg.

“If we have a thousand soldiers who’ve taken part in raids,” said Loaf, “what does that do to our odds in that battle?”

“Less of a surprise,” said Olivenko, “because Haddamander will know that there have been fifty raids. But we’ll still choose the time and place of battle. It’ll still be the first time we came with ten thousand men instead of fifty or a hundred. And we’ll have a core of a thousand veterans. I think our odds are four out of five.”

“Four out of five isn’t that much better than two out of three,” said Param, sounding a little outraged.

“It’s war,” said Olivenko. “Nothing is certain.”

“Besides,” said Loaf, “Olivenko’s making up those numbers anyway.”

Olivenko chuckled. “Yes. I’m putting numbers on my gut feelings. And even though so much depends on what the individual soldiers do, it also depends on how they’re led. On how much they love the Rebel King and the Young Queen. On how much they trust Captain Toad, who led them on all those miraculous raids. On how much Captain Loaf shouted at them and terrified them during training. And on how well we plan the battle itself.”

“Which is where you’ll come into it,” said Rigg.

“I’m a scholar of war now,” said Olivenko. “Not a commander.”

“But the key adviser in our councils of war,” said Rigg.

“None of us can match your knowledge of past wars,” said Umbo. “Just as none of us can match Loaf’s experience in battle.”

“After a few dozen raids,” said Loaf, “you’ll pass me right up. It’s not as if I took part in any great war. I’ve done some bloody fighting, but there were never more than a few hundred on each side. And I never commanded more than a few score of men, and even that was only after the real commander died and I took over in the field. The logistics of a truly massive army—”

“Another reason to learn from raiding,” said Olivenko.

“And something else we’ll have to learn,” said Rigg. “I seem to have been nominated to lead troops in combat, and I don’t know if I can do it. I’m not a fighter. Father raised me to be a diplomat. Or maybe just a bureaucrat.”

Loaf barked out a laugh. “What do you think the commander of an army is? It’s ninety percent bureaucracy—babysitting petulant commanders and dealing with their rivalries, planning where everybody will go and how and when they’ll march to get there, making sure their weapons and their food all arrive where they’re supposed to go. We’ll find men and train them to help you, but then you’ll have to manage them and their ambition and their fear.”

“Do you imagine that you’re encouraging me?” asked Rigg.

“I’m telling you that it’s the job that Ramex trained you for,” said Loaf.

Maybe they were right, thought Rigg. Maybe he would find out he was up to the job. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

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