Efficient.
It was the only way to describe the Aiel. Excessive lawlessness had led to the dispatching of a unit into the southern Andoran countryside—on the edges of the Murandian border. In the past this was the site of bloody clashes with bandit chieftains as well as the hub of illicit activity including slavery; a truth well known to Valadin. The Queen’s Guard always did its finest to subdue such nefarious enterprises, but Murandy had proven a hard neighbor to share boundaries with. In the lifetime of most officers none had ever seen the border shared with free of blackguards from all corners of darkness and many had known a friend or family that had given their lives to see it so.
Valadin watched as the Aielman casually handled a brigand party. There were an ill-trained lot. Flanked within the opening moments of the melee, but what impressed him the most was not that the outlaws were defeated rather that to a man none were killed. Even among elite companies, it was a rare occasion where the discipline and ability of two factions differed so greatly that one was completely subdued, yet before the men of Andor and the forces supplied by the Grey Tower, the Dragon Reborn’s Aiel was making sport of their foe.
Their movements are unified. There is none that seeks glory above their brothers, yet all relish the thrill of battle.
Dusk left an inferno painted upon the sky when finally the last of the defeated group had been captured. Some of the Guardsmen attempted to show appreciation for the effort, but found their cordiality met with guarded stares that stalled any friendliness between the two units. The Aiel took their quarry east over a ridge before vanishing from sight. Their leader was a tall fire-haired man with skin of leather and a face crisscrossed with scars. Respect was obvious in the manner which the other Aiel addressed the young man, but from the little Valadin knew it didn’t seem that the fellow was a clan leader.
“Asha’man Manelle,” Ruck grunted, the urgency in the man’s voice breaking into Val’s thoughts. Few guardsmen did more than a few tours with him. It was rare that men were lost on his watch, but he was a harsh unit commander often times resorting to punishment as a means to instill order swiftly. Ruck hailed from Arad Doman. He’d been a thief despite a thick, squat build along with uncharacteristically blocky fingers. By his account he’d been a fine one. Of the men that served under Valadin, Ruck had proven the most hardy less prone to complaining. That made it easy to trust the man to voice reason when it needed hearing. “Asha’man, there’s more to catch in the woods. And…”
Now Valadin pulled his stare away from the retreating back of the Aiel, “And?”
“Don’t like that the Queen’s Guard have taken a liking to us.”
It was true. Their burnished mail shone even in the dulling light of the afternoon and whatever insult the Aiel had offered would need venting. Ruck was right. Better not to be nearby when impotent tempers flared. “We move!” Val barked signaling the unit westward.
Respect was one thing. Running into the Aiel on open ground wasn’t a gamble he was willing to take. As the men filed past him in two neat columns Val offered a parting smile with an officer seated upon a war steed, hand clasped upon the hilt of his sheathed blade. The Black Tower’s recent trysts hadn’t done much good to balm the concerns of channeling men running about so it was natural that even the Grey Tower was looked upon unfavorably.
“Best we catch something for the day’s over men. Wouldn’t want you all going back to your women without tales of heroic victory; I gather for most of you that’s all the poor lasses stick around for!” A holler went up at that and the company moved on for better hunting.
It was the only way to describe the Aiel. Excessive lawlessness had led to the dispatching of a unit into the southern Andoran countryside—on the edges of the Murandian border. In the past this was the site of bloody clashes with bandit chieftains as well as the hub of illicit activity including slavery; a truth well known to Valadin. The Queen’s Guard always did its finest to subdue such nefarious enterprises, but Murandy had proven a hard neighbor to share boundaries with. In the lifetime of most officers none had ever seen the border shared with free of blackguards from all corners of darkness and many had known a friend or family that had given their lives to see it so.
Valadin watched as the Aielman casually handled a brigand party. There were an ill-trained lot. Flanked within the opening moments of the melee, but what impressed him the most was not that the outlaws were defeated rather that to a man none were killed. Even among elite companies, it was a rare occasion where the discipline and ability of two factions differed so greatly that one was completely subdued, yet before the men of Andor and the forces supplied by the Grey Tower, the Dragon Reborn’s Aiel was making sport of their foe.
Their movements are unified. There is none that seeks glory above their brothers, yet all relish the thrill of battle.
Dusk left an inferno painted upon the sky when finally the last of the defeated group had been captured. Some of the Guardsmen attempted to show appreciation for the effort, but found their cordiality met with guarded stares that stalled any friendliness between the two units. The Aiel took their quarry east over a ridge before vanishing from sight. Their leader was a tall fire-haired man with skin of leather and a face crisscrossed with scars. Respect was obvious in the manner which the other Aiel addressed the young man, but from the little Valadin knew it didn’t seem that the fellow was a clan leader.
“Asha’man Manelle,” Ruck grunted, the urgency in the man’s voice breaking into Val’s thoughts. Few guardsmen did more than a few tours with him. It was rare that men were lost on his watch, but he was a harsh unit commander often times resorting to punishment as a means to instill order swiftly. Ruck hailed from Arad Doman. He’d been a thief despite a thick, squat build along with uncharacteristically blocky fingers. By his account he’d been a fine one. Of the men that served under Valadin, Ruck had proven the most hardy less prone to complaining. That made it easy to trust the man to voice reason when it needed hearing. “Asha’man, there’s more to catch in the woods. And…”
Now Valadin pulled his stare away from the retreating back of the Aiel, “And?”
“Don’t like that the Queen’s Guard have taken a liking to us.”
It was true. Their burnished mail shone even in the dulling light of the afternoon and whatever insult the Aiel had offered would need venting. Ruck was right. Better not to be nearby when impotent tempers flared. “We move!” Val barked signaling the unit westward.
Respect was one thing. Running into the Aiel on open ground wasn’t a gamble he was willing to take. As the men filed past him in two neat columns Val offered a parting smile with an officer seated upon a war steed, hand clasped upon the hilt of his sheathed blade. The Black Tower’s recent trysts hadn’t done much good to balm the concerns of channeling men running about so it was natural that even the Grey Tower was looked upon unfavorably.
“Best we catch something for the day’s over men. Wouldn’t want you all going back to your women without tales of heroic victory; I gather for most of you that’s all the poor lasses stick around for!” A holler went up at that and the company moved on for better hunting.