The Orb of Wrath

  *******

  It was dawn and Vargarr looked bad. He hadn't slept for two nights and couldn't remember ever being so frustrated and angry. The orcs hadn't attacked, and they were running out of time! He had had to give orders for the Kiyats, Golsou and Borydos detachments to immediately part at dawn. They couldn't risk having the troops there any longer. The Borydos troops were the first to leave the camp; they were the ones that had a longer way back home. The others were still preparing.

  The Mositus and Central Bor troops would remain there for a few more days. Although the maneuvers were not planned to last for many more days, no one would be surprised if they were extended a little more. Vargarr had faint hope that the orcs would still show up and, if so, he hoped that what he had would be enough. They may have more casualties than they expected, maybe they could even lose the battle and have to retreat, but at least they'd have irrefutable evidence to begin the war. That would be a reasonably good scenario for their goals. There was still hope.

  “Sir, you must come out. A delegation just arrived and wishes to see you,” a captain said, poking his head inside the tent.

  “But who do they think they are?” Vargarr cried, beside himself.

  He was red with anger. He left the tent ready to reprimand those who had dared to interrupt him at that time. Then he saw something that made his blood run cold. Leading the procession was a figure he hated deeply. General Bellish got off his horse and walked towards him.

  “Vargarr, this time you've crossed all the lines and you're going to pay,” he cried.

  “Sir, I don't know what you mean,” babbled Vargarr, surprised.

  “I saw the troops of Kiyats and Golsou amongst the formations. You were very cunning to get the King's permission, thus avoiding me. But such authorization only allowed you to mobilize the troops of Bor Central and Mositus. This concentration of troops is unprecedented for maneuvers and if orc explorers perceive it, we could be causing a war,” said the General.

  His tone was direct, haughty, and sharp: a tone that he rarely used. That occasion, in front of thousands of soldiers across the kingdom, was one of them. Vargarr had to make a superhuman effort to contain his anger. The public ridicule that he was undergoing was more than he could bear; however, he knew that he had too many problems and he shouldn't make things worse.

  “Sir, it's possible that there may be soldiers from other territories from the bulk of the troops. How would I know? Possibly they are soldiers who are on leave and in their free time, have decided to join this operation voluntarily,” Vargarr said, desperately looking for a way out.

  “No, no. You won't get out of this one so easily, Vargarr. Do you see that group of knights approaching? We have recognized the Golsou and Kiyats colonels among the troops and they are coming over here now. Their presence, coupled with the fact that the soldiers of the two counties aren't isolated men, but complete detachments, form irrefutable proof that this is a joint operation: an operation for which you had no authorization. Having concealed the flags of the different troops hasn't been enough to fool old Bellish,” concluded the general, satisfied.

  That was incredible. How had he managed to track down the colonels as easily among many troops?

  “The truth is that I hadn't seen them. They may have come tonight, or perhaps are on leave as well. In any case, concerning your argument about the orcs provocation, we have scrupulously respected the limit of three leagues that the guideline of these maneuvers established. You agree with me that this should be a safe distance to avoid any provocation,” tried to argue the Major desperately.

  “Silence! Not another word. I've had enough of you for today. Perhaps you convinced the King that three leagues was a reasonable distance. And maybe it would have been for training a couple of detachments, but certainly not enough if you concentrate a fucking army that you can see from ten leagues away.”

  This time it was the general who was angry.

  “Vargarr, take your horse now and part immediately back to the capital. Within five days you will come see me at the royal castle where you will be informed of the disciplinary measures this entails. Until further notice you will not command the Central Bor troops. Now, go away!” ordered the general abruptly.

  Vargarr felt a strong desire to strangle him right there in front of everyone. But he knew this would mean the end of his career. Maybe the old man was provoking him precisely to try to get a reaction. An event like that would give him an excuse to permanently remove him from the army. He had to contain himself. He bowed his head, closed his fists, stammered “Yes, sir” and went to get his horse.