Father Jan rose early, before dawn. He slept poorly, and an hour or two more would make little difference. Packing up his meager possessions, he decided that a little practice was in order. Eschewing cassock and cloak to better free his movements, he staked out a position at the edge of the camp.

Sword and shield in hand, he engaged in the simple drills he had learned long ago. He was pleasantly surprised at how quickly it all came back to him, how natural swordplay still felt to him. His timing was a little off, maybe, and he was a touch slower than he once was. But he was nearly as hale and hardy as he was in his prime.

Advance, sidestroke. Block, backstroke. Double back, feint, and upstroke. And anon, until the sun rose, waking the rest of the camp.

[hr]

Jan joined the forming line, taking a place toward the front. Still without his cassock and cloak, he was clothed only by a short, sleeveless tunic and trousers. His shirt of dark mail gave him something of the look of a warrior, however.

The Priest listened, bemused, to the proposed strategy of their commander. Though surprised, he was not the least upset to see him cast down by the man who called himself Silas. Evidently a comrade of last night's false penitent, he was now in charge. For better or worse. For better, though, it would seem. The new plan was much more reasonable. And, though not given the horse he had hoped for, he knew better than to question their new leader in front of their mostly green troops. They needed to believe the new strategy was utterly unimpeachable.

That in mind, Jan fell in to his appointed position in the current formation, at the center left. He drew his sword. It was a little old, the blade in need of burnishing, but it seemed to be of rather fine make. Along with his mail, it was his last physical connection to his time with the Broken Blades. The hilt was inlaid with silver, and the grip well-worked leather.

Lifting his sword into the air, he called out to the squad assigned to him.

“To me, you lot. Look sharp! I reckon I am the most battle-tested among ye. Try to stay behind me, and attack by my flank.”

He stopped to count his little group.

“That's three of you. There should be a fourth- A woman in strange dress. A warlock, or some such, I think. Where is she?..”