The General & The Knight 34.

Winter. Halmard. The Lands Farque.

Half of the group of teenage recruits who arrived in the border town of Halmard a couple of days ago.
Ride out on patrol just after dawn. Heading south along the coast road.
The foreign knight, Sir Percavellé Lé Dic goes with them.
For the simple reason he's an excellent horseman. But more importantly, the garrison commander thinks it's best that the former paladin is separated from the other instructor who arrived in town with the teenage recruits.
Dorc da Orc watches the patrol ride out of town. More than a little envious that they get to do so.
As he would of liked to of gone with them, just to be around the horses.
It's the reason he's still in town with the five other teenage army recruits. Who are making their way towards the stretch of beach on the west side of town.
The large ork doesn't particularly want to go down near the water with them.
But he decides to do so anywhere. As he sees the undead wardog Axe sitting in the shade on one side of the garrison building watching him.
The ork warleader who is a general in the armies of Farque sourly smiles as he looks sideways at the massive canine.
Who stole his dead bear just after they arrived in town. And the Farqian wardog took it out into the ocean. Much to the disgust of the ork weaponsmith. Who no way in hell, was going to go out there and retrieve it.
Refraining from calling Axe a fucken mutt. Just incase the undead wardog takes affront to it. And decides to bite off one of his legs or arms.
Dorc da Orc or Dorkindle which is his given name. Makes his way from near the barracks which is on the west side of town. And makes way down to the beach.
The border town of Halmard is split in two by the coast road, that ends, or begins depending on which way you're coming from, on the north side of town.
The west side of town is dominated by the garrison barracks, along with their stables and other various outbuildings.
While the docks, are also a major factor on that side of town.
Though docks is a more than generous description. As it's actually a single long pier at the north end of the curving beach. A pier that goes out into the ocean nearly a hundred yards.
It's built like a sea wall, made from rock. Though the top of it is actually wood.
Tied up to it at the moment are a few fishing boats, as well as a patrol ship. One of three that are based here in the border town of Halmard.
There's also a small airdock on the southwest corner of town. Which at the moment there's no airships in.
The warleader of the ork race makes his way down onto the white sand beach.
And after looking in disgust at the ocean, where the waves are lapping at the shore.
The big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world. Who figures, correctly as it turns out. That the sands of the beach will be a total bitch in the heat at the height of summer.
Turns right, and heads north along the beach towards the pier. Which goes out into the ocean for quite a bit because the water is fairly shallow close into shore.
The weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks stops about thirty yards from the pier.
On which, are the five teenage recruit, who have remained in town this morning. Hamblin, Maselle, Jinsa, Garmon and Dammis.
They're with a few of the soldiers from the garrison here in Halmard.
One of whom the ork general knows fairly well. As he served with him in a war over fifteen months ago.
In the north of the kingdom of Nastell.
Where one of the armies of Farque were hired by the robber barons in the unruled lands in The Colevar Mountains.
Who went to war against the duke of Phelm in northern Nastell.
"Morning general" says the scout Varric who has made his way off the pier, and joined the large ork on the sands.
The warleader of the ork race just grunts in reply to the senior scout he fought alongside during the campaign in northern Nastell.
Then pointing at the teenage army recruits about halfway along the pier, Dorc da Orc asks "What them cunts gonna do?". As the five recruits have stripped down to their under clothes. 
"Into the water" replies Varric, who like all Farqian soldiers, is in a black uniform, and predominantly black armour.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world winces when he hears that, then he loudly mutters "Fuck that".
The senior scout beside him points back down the beach, and explains to the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks "They'll swim down to there, get out and run back up the beach to the pier".
The soldier who is his mid twenties, and is a member of the Farqian army, that was the first in four and half centuries to be hired out into a foreign war, continues on with "They'll do that five times as quickly as they can".
Dorc grimaces at that, as the recruits swim is at least a hundred yards. Though he suspects they'll run at least the last twenty five or so yards because the water is so shallow close into the shore.
"Once they've completed it five times, they'll be given some mental exercises and equations they will have to answer correctly" explains Varric, who continues on with "Each one they fail, they'll have to do another swim".
The senior scout, who is also from here in northwestern Farque, who remembers his time here in Halmard when he was a teenage recruit, dryly adds "Trust me, they will want to get each one correct".
The son of the previous matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, whose skull is tied to his wide, waist belt.
Grunts when he hears that, then general Dorc physically shivers, and says "Fucken yucks".
As the five teenage army recruits, as a group, jump off the pier and into the water.
And they start swimming in the winter ocean water, which here in the very north of the lands Farque.
Isn't all that cold for this time of the year. Infact it's barely cool. For most of the year, the waters along the northern stretch of the Farqian coast is warm.
Dorc da Orc, who this winter, has been based in the forest town of Gildin Dale. As one of the instructors for the four groups of teenage army recruits who are from the northwest of the lands Farque.
Shakes his rather large head as he watches the five teenagers swimming through the waters just off the beach here in Halmard.
The large ork who is a general in the armies of Farque. Hasn't understood some of the training the teenage recruits have undergone this winter.
But he can definitely see the effect it's had on all of them. As they all swim fairly quickly through the water.
They're all physical fit. Even though they're only thirteen and fourteen years old.
And to him, what they're doing now. Swimming in the ocean just off the shore from the border town of Halmard.
Is his opinion the most difficult thing for them to do.
It's not. For him it would be. But not the teenage army recruits.
Though doing it a number of times. Then immediately doing a number of exercises and equations they have to get correct. Is rather difficult indeed.
Breathing heavily, Hamblin the teenage recruit grabs Dammis by the arm, and hauls him up out of the water.
The smaller teenage boy, who is breathing just as heavily as Hamblin, nods his thanks.
Then the two of them run into shore, as the water is shallow along this part of the beach.
When they run out of the water, they turn and run back up along the beach.
And though the swim is difficult, especially considering this time was the fifth time they've done it this morning.
It doesn't compare to what they're doing right now. Which is running on the soft white sand back to the pier at the northern end of the beach.
The five teenage recruits who didn't go out on patrol this morning. Find the run along the sand much more difficult than the swim.
Simply because it feels like it's dragging down upon their legs. As they continue to train this morning under the watchful eyes of three of the soldiers from the town's garrison.
And the not so watchful eye of one of their instructors. The ork general, Dorc da Orc.
Who is sitting on the beach. And who, when Hamblin and Dammis run by him again on their way to the pier.
It looks like the ork weaponsmith is making sand castles of all things.
Which is indeed what the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world is doing.
Though he's making them to resemble one of the many battles he's been in his life.
The two recruits, along with Garmon who is behind them. Follow the two girls Maselle and Jinsa back onto the pier.
Where about halfway along it. Wait a trio of soldiers who are based here in the border town of Halmard.
The five teenage army recruits who have remained here in town this morning.
While the rest of their group went out with a mounted patrol.
Know that the next part of the training exercise will be the difficult part.
They'll have to work out a number of metal exercises and equations. Without the ability to write them down. Where they'll have to give their answers verbally.
Doing so after what they've just done physically. Is going to take some effort.
And if one of them gets something wrong. Then they'll all have to jump into the ocean again, and swim to near the halfway point of the beach. And run back up to the pier. None of them want to do the sand run again.
And as they stand there listening to the subaltern give them the first of the equations to work out.
They hope they don't get it, or any of the following equations wrong.
Leaving the exhausted recruits to work things out.
The senior scout Varric makes his way back down the pier, and onto the beach.
And walks to where Dorc da Orc is sitting making sand castles of all things.
The senior scout stops a few yards away, and looks closely at what the ork warleader is doing.
"A city is it general?" asks Varric the scout who served alongside the large ork over fifteen months ago.
The senior scout briefly pauses before continuing on with "A battle?".
"Yeah cunt" is the reply from Dorc da Orc who then adds "Vexil".
"Ah" says Varric, who has heard that his lord, along with Dorkindle, as well as Mira Reinholt the mage fought at the battle of Vexil, which was nearly twenty years ago.
"We was fucken here" explains the ork general pointing to the west of his sand castle recreation of the city of Vexil.
"Killing every fucker from both sides" says the ork weaponsmith with a chortle.
"That mage cunt" says Dorc da Orc referring to Mira Reinholt, the large ork continues with "Killer" followed by "Joined us there, after them cunts in the city kicked him out".
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world is silent for a few moments, as he looks out at the ocean.
Then he looks down at his sand castle recreation of the battle of Vexil, and says "We was just waitin' for the right fucken time to get into the city".
The scout Varric nods his head, as he like every other Farqian. Knows of the many battles, some small. And others large, like the battle of Vexil. That their lord has been in.
Many of which, over the last twenty years or so. The ork warleader has been there beside him.
The senior scout based here in the Halmard garrison. Gets a first hand account. Not to mention, a rather exaggerated account. Of the largest battle in recent memory in the Southlands.
From someone who was in the thick of it. Who fought alongside lord Farque himself. As well as Mira Reinholt the mage. Who was only seventeen years old at the time.
Who in the aftermath of the battle. When they were escaping on an airship. Having stolen the payroll of the Vexilian army.
The young mage turned on lord Farque and Dorc da Orc. Stealing some of the stolen payroll. And destroying the airship they were on.
Varric slightly shakes his head as he listens to the large ork. Who chuckles at some of what he's describing. And growls at some of the other things.
The senior scout who is in his mid twenties. Never thought he'd get to hear about the battle of Vexil by someone who was actually there.
"Need more on the north fucken side" murmurs the big, burly ork from the southern polar region of the world.
The ork weaponsmith then says "Dorc killed a lot of cunts in that battle" he follows that with "A big fuckhead of a troll, and a elf general cunt he was hanging out with".
The ork who was named warleader by lord Farque. Interestingly in the city of Vexil. Though nearly a decade after the famous battle that saw many of the nations in the central region of the Southlands, go to war against the city-state of Vexil.
Then says to the senior scout "And a fucken prince cunt from some country".
The large ork then loudly mutters in his deep, rumbling and growling voice "Some of his cunts went and catch Dorc years later, and was gonna fucken hangs me" shaking his head, the ork warleader continues muttering with "By Krom, Dorc was fucken lucky as shit to get out of that".
Then looking at the scout standing nearby, and gesturing at his sand castle recreation of the battle of Vexil, Dorkindle says "You know how that fucken battle was won?".
"My lord flung himself into the city by a trebuchet, going through the wards that surrounded it" says Varric the scout who continues with "Then he let you and the mage Reinholt in through a sally port next to the main west gates of the city".
The senior scout based here in the border town of Halmard adds "The invaders attacked the city, which you three helped to defend briefly, when you changed sides. Though you only did so, to create further chaos so you could get to the paymaster general's office of the Vexilian army. Who you robbed".
Dorc da Orc sits there blinking as he looks at the soldier in black. The large ork who is silent for a few moments, then says "How the fuck you know all that shit?".
The son of the previous matriarch of the world tribe of orks continues in a mutter "Dorc don't 'member most of that shit".
With a faint smile upon his face, Varric says to the ork general "I learnt about it when i was younger".
The senior scout follows that with "In our learning centers when we're young, we learn all about what our lord gets up to when he's away from our lands"
Which has been quite a lot over the last twenty years or so. Ever since he found Dorc da Orc. Who had been captured by some of the hill dwarves who live in an area of the hill country that makes up part of the southern border of the lands Farque. Further away to the east, where it abutts the southern tundra.
"Why fuck me" says the ork weaponsmith in astonishment, who then asks "Fucken why?".
"Because he's our lord" replies Varric the scout.
The warleader of the ork race grunts when he hears that. And he falls silent for a few moments as he thinks about how everyone here in the nation of Farque.
Have probably learnt a lot about him too. Considering he's been in the company of the lord and ruler of the lands Farque for about two decades.
The big, burly ork from the frozen bottom of the world, who doesn't usually contemplate things.
Grunts again, then concentrating on the now, the large ork says "Gots to make it fucken bigger".
Varric who was wondering how Dorc da Orc was making his sand castles, as the sand is fairly soft on the beach.
Looks quickly away, as the ork weaponsmith gets up, drops his pants, and takes a piss on the sand, making it damp, so he can shape more sand castles.
The senior scout, and the ork general as he continues to pee, watch as the teenage recruits all jump off the pier again.
One of them has got one of the equations wrong. Thankfully just one equation. So they only have to swim halfway down the length of the beach. Then run back along the soft sand to the pier just one more time.
Before they can take a break for the midday meal, as they continue the last of their training for the winter.
Here in the border town of Halmard, after previously spending most of the winter in the small, forest town of Gildin Dale . . . . . .