The First March...
DISCLOSABLE INFORMATION-
Beginning in the year 224 S.T. the first military battle dress uniform was issued to the First Corps of the Von Greifenberg army. The standardized uniform which was later given the designation, M1 BDU, had a dominantly brown colour with a white shirt that incorporated four front patch pockets with scalloped flaps (the lower pockets were angled).
The front of the shirt (Which was coloured white to prevent friendly fire during intense black powder gunfights when visibility often drops. The colour was chosen over other's such as red or blue because it was as easy to stain, hence camouflage when needed) was closed with five buttons.
The tailoring was more form-fitting and also included external suspenders, usually worn over the issued armoured plate carriers, which served to hold extra equipment belt in small leather pouches.
Each unit was issued a pair of calf-height hobnailed leather boots with the brown trousers worn tucked inside. Originally 40 cm tall, the boots were shortened to 32 cm a month after adoption into service to save leather.
The Army also issued camouflage helmet covers which were generally just netting into which foliage could be inserted. The helmets were handmade out of wrought iron on a production line in Redwater and were usually reinforced in front to increase their effectiveness against most fielded ammunition of the time.
A dark brown hooded cloak/cape which fell to the ankle was also issued to the soldiers as part of their uniforms. This piece of clothing generally served as a means of camouflaging units if the need arises but can also be used as a blanket during cold nights
The M1 BDU was designed to ensure practicality, effectiveness and economic feasibility, hence it was generally straightforward in design and made out of locally sourced materials. But due to supply problems during the first month of adoption, the First corps were often issued brown work clothes with white-coloured gambeson sometimes replacing the plate carriers on special occasions where such heavy armour isn't needed or available.
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Greenfields
The Barracks
…
Two hundred meters away, south from the town, laid seven single-storey buildings surrounded by a red brick wall.
Outside, in a small clearing surrounded by these buildings stood a formation of ninety men.
They stood quietly with stern gazes in their eyes, appearing like seasoned warriors.
Donner stared silently at Lord Aden who stood gazing back at them. The Duke's gaze travelled through the assembled men, it was unknown what his thoughts were.
Donner's gaze drifted from the lord towards his fellow soldiers. Unlike during training, they were dressed in the standard battle dress issued for the army.
Rows of cloaked, brown uniformed men armed with machetes and shoulder-strapped flintlocks stood all around him inducing a feeling of camaraderie in his heart.
Behind the platoon stood two soldiers holding flags, each different from the other. The first was carrying the Corps emblem, the image of a shield with a machete and flintlock crossed behind it, while the other had the image of a black armoured gryphon on it, evidently the emblem of the lord's household.
To the far left of the lord stood the widely revered Marquess, Sir Levi and beside him stood Lieutenant Carter and eight staff sergeants in a row arranged in decreasing order of rank.
The Lord remaining silent for a few more moments as the tension rose before deciding to speak.
"My valiant men…" The Duke spoke in a deep awe-inspiring voice, strumming the heartstrings of many and inducing reverence.
"When our forefathers stood against the Herteleans during the Great War they had much more resources as we have now.
But though they did, they were the weakest of the twelve kingdoms, and then it was by wisdom rather than by good fortune, by daring rather than by material power, that they drove back the foreign invasion and made our kingdom what it is today.
And now, we have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many many long weeks of struggle and of suffering amongst our people.
Many of you are most probably aware of the state of the lands of our forefathers.
These very lands they fought to protect, these lands they shed sweat, tears and blood for, these lands they passed down to us to protect have now been defiled by the enemy from across the Morgan Channel.
Our capital fallen, our king captured and the royal heir and Queen missing we are losing hope.
They will wilt us down till we can fight no more, till we bend at their very will, and then we would become slaves at their mercy. Our wives, sisters and mothers taken away, our children and siblings sold as merchandise and our freedom a thing of the past.
Shall we allow these audacious enemies to violate with impunity the lands of our forefathers? Will you permit their armies to instil terror in the hearts of our families?
This is an issue of life or death for the people of Greenfields, for the peoples of Redwater, for the people of Algrim. The issue is whether our people shall remain free or fall into slavery . . . There must be no room in our ranks for whimperers and cowards, for panic-mongers and deserters. Our people must know no fear in a fight.
You ask, what is our goal? I can say: It is to wage war, by sea and by land, with all our might and with all the strength we have within; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime."
The lord spoke gravely, his gaze travelling through the crowd as if searching for an answer to his woes.
"Now, I will tell you a grim truth. Redwater has fallen into enemy hands.
Our only hope of surviving this dilemma is about to be cut off by the enemy.
On the right and left enemies enclose us. The Strega, our lifeblood cut off from us; the Aiga and Quilton behind hem us in.
But despair not, my brave men,
For we will not succumb. But march, then, to meet them.
I am amongst you at this time, not as for my recreation or sport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die amongst you all; to lay down my life, for my kingdom, and for my people, my honour and my blood.
To teach the world that a malediction attends those that violate the territory of the sons of Algrim. The result of our efforts will be unclouded glory and durable peace.
We must live up to the standards our forefathers set: we must resist our enemies in any and every way, and try to leave those who come after us a kingdom that is as great as ever, dead and buried in the earth."
Silence fell,
For a few brief moments, no one spoke.
But, without, order or instruction, much unlike the men of the First Corps,
Someone stomped,
Then another,
And another,
And as if goaded by an unknown force, they rose dust with their feet, heavy with indignation, with the desire for conquest and liberation, chanting with great vigour the name of their fatherland.
Donner's eyes glazed over, his feet stomping against his will. Deep down he felt something was wrong with everything, with the war, the enemy, even the speech.
Nonetheless, he stomped and shouted in chorus with his fellow soldiers.
Nothing beats being a part of something greater.
"ALGRIM!"
"ALGRIM!"
"ALGRIM!"
They shouted, their voices echoing the fields and rousing the townsfolk within earshot.
Donner's gaze rose to meet his commander, he strangely felt the duke was both staring at him and the rest of the crowd simultaneously as if he had an all-seeing sight.
Then the duke spoke, raising his voice far above the rest of the crowd.
His voice dripped valour.
"Now, My brave men!"
"We march, unto victory!"