Wilson and Aella walked up to the Commandants square. The tents here were enormous. Giant canvas contraptions some of which could fit hundreds at a time. It was intended as a maze to the uninitiated with the intention of keeping enemy assassins from finding the General's tent. Wilson and Aella walked right up to the middle tent, which sat in the middle of the organized chaos. Soldiers marched up and down the paths between the buildings. As they approached the middle tent, several guards stared at them. Most of the stares were openly hostile. The smallest tent was the General's. A couple of guards stood up straight in front of it. Wilson knew that several dozen guards sat waiting in the large tents surrounding this particular tent. They would be out with swords drawn at the first moment of alarm. The two guards crossed their halberds to block the entrance. Neither of them looked happy.

Wilson sighed.

"Little soldiers playing their games," Aella said in a stage sotto voice.

The soldiers looked just a bit angrier than they had a moment before.

Wilson chuckled. "Rules for everything. Kind of reminds me of the Collegium."

The soldiers blanched when they heard talk of the Collegium.

Wilson decided to press even harder. "Aella, when you get your Roc back, would you be willing to fly over here and wave for these nice little toy soldiers?"

"Quit harassing my guards, you two. And get in here," a gruff voice hollered from within.

The soldiers raised their halberds. Wilson looked over at Aella with a guilty smile. Without a word, they entered the tent.

"Sir," they said in unison.

A small, whip thin man sat at a black oak camp desk. He was writing in a journal. Without looking up, he wrote a few more words. Then he closed his journal and set it to one side. He placed his pen to one side. Finally, looking up, he asked, "Why are you two so insistent on harassing the help?"

After a few moments, when he didn't receive an answer, the General sighed. "I realize relations between the Roc Riders and the rest of the army are strained, but I would prefer you don't exacerbate the situation unnecessarily."

Neither Wilson or Aella said a word.

"Please be seated," he said as he gestured to the two chairs that sat on the other side of his desk.

"Before we begin, I would have news of your activities."

Wilson cleared his throat. "Sir, we have forayed out into the enemy lines the past three nights. Each night is the same. The Northern Army is readied for war, but no preparations are being made to prosecute action at this time."

"Are you certain?"

"Sir, while it is impossible to be certain. We are in agreement," at this he nods toward Aella, "if the Northern Army were to attack us right now, it would be disastrous for them."

"And why is that?"

"Sir, by our count it seems that at least three of their eight divisions are currently light on proper gear."

"That is a term I am not familiar with. Perhaps it is unique to the Roc Riders," the General said with just a hint of sarcasm.

"Perhaps you would be so kind as to explain a bit further."

"Sir," said Wilson struggling to keep the exasperation out of his voice, "Over the past three nights, we have entered the gear staging areas of three enemy divisions. Each one had less than half of the gear they need to prosecute further action."

"And do you know why they are so 'light' on gear?" asked the General.

The Black Oak Sword

Chapter 1: Part 1

Chapter 1: Part 2

Chapter 1: Part 3

Chapter 2: Part 1

Chapter 2: Part 2

Chapter 3:Part 1

Chapter 3:Part 2

Chapter 3:Part 3

© 2017, Stone Golem Publishing

**All pictures used are labeled for reuse. They come from Max Pixel

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