Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.
Acting Captain
Life continued mostly unchanged for Ala. As Bernard got older groups of bandits and raids from Oakharrow seemed to become more frequent. After the Battle of Vanidil, trouble always seemed in the north of the March. It had not taken long after that first encounter with Oakharrowers in 955 for raiders to learn to flee whenever the Thetwick Militia was spotted. There had been more fights of course, but they had always ended badly for the Oakharrowers. At least, that had been the case when the militia was involved. The militia still wasn’t remotely able to stop most of the incursions.
Ala had ridden a few patrols that had been ambushed, but they had managed to fight her way out every time. The militia did occasionally suffer losses but thankfully whoever was directing the raids out of Oakharrow had no interest in training the unfortunate peasants that were sent to do the dirty work. She and Bernard took training the militia very seriously indeed and particularly the cavalrymen were not only well trained and equipped but used to working together. The Duke also sometimes allocated funds allowing Bernard to hire on mercenary help, which at the very least provided Ala with a source to learn a little more bladesmanship. Many mercenaries lost their practice field swagger when they learned just how devoted Ala was to her art.
The poor Oakharrow bastards doing the raiding were in very poor shape compared to Thetwick’s militia. Their equipment was generally the bare minimum, a makeshift gambeson or some sort of padding, a crude shield and a spear was what they usually encountered. They occasionally captured an Oakharrower and what they learned from interviewing them was that training was effectively nonexistent. Such men were inevitably hanged, which Ala hated. They were generally poor, destitute peasants who had simply been directed to do their Lord’s nefarious bidding as a means of fulfilling their obligatory service. Thankfully, the Constable was in charge of the executions. She stayed away from them.
She had become good at spotting likely ambush points and knew all of the northern Westmarch like the back of her hand. The militia had taken casualties, but it was less than she had expected considering the amount of time they now spent dealing with incursions from. Mostly the Oakharrowers ran as soon as they spotted the Westmarch Militia. They had, of course often devised plans to cut them off but it wasn’t easy considering the size of the area they had to patrol.
As Bernard grew older he was finding it more difficult to ride patrols himself. Eventually, Ala took over the job from him completely. By now, her effectiveness was no longer a subject of discussion among the militiamen. Among the cavalry and the archers, her orders were followed without question. She wasn’t certain her authority was unquestioned among all of the militia’s infantry contingent. The militia was only called in its entirety for practice. Those times when some infantrymen were needed to block a road or the like, Bernard selected men he trusted not to question Ala’s orders. Tales of her prowess that spread from militia members to their families certainly made Ala’s life as a militia leader easier. Leadership simplified life for Ala. The villagers expected a leader to be different to them in many ways, which seemed to make Ala’s strangeness less of an issue. She had stopped taking particular care to hide her ears as she didn’t think there was anyone left in the Westmarch who could possibly forget that she was a half elf.
Eventually, in 981, the old Constable, Roger Marchmain, finally died. It made little difference as his sons and grandsons had long proven themselves to be cut from the same cloth. His eldest son, Travis, had been assisting his father with his duties for years. He had been elected Constable by the town elders, though Ala was certain there had been foul play involved. She and Bernard were always isolated from the civil side of the town and it was hard to find out how it had happened. It was strange to Ala. The position of Constable was not officially hereditary, nor was it officially within the scope of the Town Council’s mandate to assign it to anyone. Originally, it had been a post to which you were appointed to by the Duke. It was hard to understand how that had come to change and the only thing she could really imagine was disinterest on the part of a previous Duke. She couldn’t even really remember how Roger Marchmain had gotten the post, it seemed as if he was just Constable one day and no one had thought to question it.
The new Constable was very chummy with the new scribe, who, though he was the old scribe’s son, seemed to be far more agreeable to the Marchmains. It boded even more problems, because if the scribe couldn’t be trusted, it was far easier for the Marchmains to contest any sort of document. It was also the scribe’s job to tally the votes at council meetings and both Ala and Bernard had their doubts whether the Constable’s election had been conducted fairly. Gordon Marchmain, thankfully, had not been spotted in the decade since he had raped Indira and murdered her and Callum.
It gradually became obvious to everyone in Thetwick that Ala was the effective day to day leader of the militia. Despite that, everyone who needed something still always asked to speak to Bernard. Speaking to a half-elven woman about anything seemed to be beyond most villagers ability to imagine. There were exceptions and Bernard usually then sent people who needed something on to her anyway. It was a constant reminder that even after more than a century in Thetwick, people still didn’t really see her as one of their own, even if Bernard had delegated his authority as militia Captain to her.
In practice, only the cavalry section of the militia was serving regularly as the Westmarch had to be patrolled far more than in the preceding decades. While not a professional unit, it’s members spent so much of their time in the militia they were practically professional soldiers. Because the horse breeders were generally reluctant to offer the militia good mounts, unless someone they trusted was riding them, serving in the militia’s cavalry slowly became more prestigious. It was interesting to Ala, to observe how ‘her’ cavalry unit slowly became an extension of Thetwick’s richer citizenship.
The archers were called from time to time too, when needed, but they and especially the infantry mostly only had to do their regular drills. The militia cavalry could still only be in so many places at once, so the locals suffered despite her and Bernard’s best efforts. Though Bernard’s well trained and equipped militia unfailingly prevailed during encounters with Oakharrowers and the body count steadily mounted. It seemed to Ala that the northern half of the March was dotted with the shallow graves that they dug to cover corpses of unfortunate Oakharrowers. The Count of Oakharrow clearly didn’t care how many didn’t come back.
In all, her duties continued to increase as Bernard became increasingly ancient. The militia was what filled her days. Bernard remained in quite good physical condition and his mind stayed keen but he became far too old to ride patrols, much less ride into battle. What time she didn’t spend on patrols was split between weapons practice, riding for the horse breeders and whatever other chores Bernard needed done to keep the militia in good order. Her daily life was mostly comparable that of a junior officer in a military unit. She didn’t live in a barracks, but she was constantly occupied with some aspect of the militia’s day to day operation. It suited her fine. Unable to fully be a part of Thetwick society, the militia work gave her a reason to keep distance and still allowed her to feel useful. It even resulted in a measure of appreciation from most of the populace, which she found she liked.
As far as Ala could tell she wasn’t growing any more by then. She was taller than most of the women in Thetwick and she had filled out rather nicely, she thought. What she was only partially aware of was that she had developed into an exquisitely beautiful young woman. She had grown tall and strong, filling out with muscle and feminine shape. She did her best to hide it, always wearing mail and cloaks to hide her form, though she found she cared less and less about hiding her hair and ears from the people of the Westmarch. She still covered them when faced with people who didn’t know her though, ever mindful of Palady’s warnings.
It was about this time that Bernard inquired why she dyed her hair. She’d been doing it as part of her weekly routine for a century and a half. Bernard had never paid much attention to that sort of ‘girly things’, as he annoyingly put it, but she had noticed that even he couldn’t help but admire her occasionally. It was one day when she was busy making the dye from some local plants and things when he asked her what she was doing.
“We’ve been living together for almost fifty years Bernard. Have you really never noticed me doing this?”
“Well. Yes. No. I mean, I’ve noticed it before, but it never really occurred to me to ask why.”
“It’s hair dye.”
“You dye your hair?”
“Yes. Palady always seemed to find it important. Made me promise. She said it was safer that way. How can you not know that?”
“Safer?”
“Yes, so I’d look more… normal or something. Make me look more like a harmless type of half-elf. I don’t really know why exactly. Just to seem mundane, I guess.”
“I think you may have mentioned that once, actually come to think of it.”
“I’m sure I have, Bernard.”
She reflected that it didn’t make a huge amount of sense. There were lots of variations of half elves, she’d learned. In fact they probably had a wider range of possible looks than either humans or elves, since some exotic elven features that weren’t among the normal human repertoire sometimes cropped up in half elves. Especially if one parent had been a water elf, she’d heard.
Bernard had regarded her for a bit and shook his head before he spoke. “Right… uhm, well forget I said anything.”
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