calculated_risks761
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jun 25, 2017
- Posts
- 1,193
The battle had gone badly for the Caarians. The Essenian cavalry had smashed through their lines with the first charge and despite having double the men, the Caarian spirit and morale had broken and they were driven back. The Essenians cavalry had harassed the fleeing Caarian soldiers, killing many until they managed to escape into the mountains bordering Caaria and Taren. The pursuit had stopped and the victorious army had returned to their war camp.
With over a hundred thousand soldiers and half as many camp followers, the camp was situated around a small village known as the Three Crossroads. The borders of Caaria, Taren and Avarone met the Three Crossroads but instead of a thriving mercantile town, the village was run-down and dilapidated. There were always tensions between the three nations and as a result little trade flowed between the three.
King Tomas of Essenia rode from the battlefield and headed through the camp to his tents near the centre of the camp. His soldiers greeted and cheered him on, buoyed by the great victory they had claimed today. He acknowledged the cheers with no small sense of pride; he had expected a bloody battle today but his soldiers had acquitted themselves well on the battlefield.
The royal tents were large but sparsely furnished; the tent was divided into two parts. The larger exterior part served as a war room; a large table with a map surrounded by chairs. The smaller part had his bed, a writing desk and racks for his armour and weapons.
Coming into the tent, King Tomas with the help of his valet stripped off his armour. He had collected a few wounds in the day’s fighting, mostly just small cuts but a large wound on his shoulder bled freely. An enemy knight had managed to get close enough to swing at Tomas with his broadsword. Tomas had managed to get his shield up and it only deflected the blow. The knight’s sword had caught in the shield and Tomas had quickly dispatched the man.
“The wound needs stitching, my lord.” Marius, his valet, said as he removed the hastily wrapped bandaged around Tomas’s shoulder and bicep.
Tomas grunted. He never liked needles. “Do what you have to.”
As Marius went to fetch his needles and wire for binding the wounds, Tomas settled on one of the chairs using a rag to wipe most of the blood and dirt from his face and chest. By the time Marius returned Tomas had managed to clean himself up except for the wound on his shoulder.
As Marius started to work on the wound, a guard entered the tent. “King Tomas, there is an envoy from Queen Sophia of Avarone waiting outside. A knight.”
“Well, send him in then.”
“Her, King Tomas. The knight is a woman.”
With over a hundred thousand soldiers and half as many camp followers, the camp was situated around a small village known as the Three Crossroads. The borders of Caaria, Taren and Avarone met the Three Crossroads but instead of a thriving mercantile town, the village was run-down and dilapidated. There were always tensions between the three nations and as a result little trade flowed between the three.
King Tomas of Essenia rode from the battlefield and headed through the camp to his tents near the centre of the camp. His soldiers greeted and cheered him on, buoyed by the great victory they had claimed today. He acknowledged the cheers with no small sense of pride; he had expected a bloody battle today but his soldiers had acquitted themselves well on the battlefield.
The royal tents were large but sparsely furnished; the tent was divided into two parts. The larger exterior part served as a war room; a large table with a map surrounded by chairs. The smaller part had his bed, a writing desk and racks for his armour and weapons.
Coming into the tent, King Tomas with the help of his valet stripped off his armour. He had collected a few wounds in the day’s fighting, mostly just small cuts but a large wound on his shoulder bled freely. An enemy knight had managed to get close enough to swing at Tomas with his broadsword. Tomas had managed to get his shield up and it only deflected the blow. The knight’s sword had caught in the shield and Tomas had quickly dispatched the man.
“The wound needs stitching, my lord.” Marius, his valet, said as he removed the hastily wrapped bandaged around Tomas’s shoulder and bicep.
Tomas grunted. He never liked needles. “Do what you have to.”
As Marius went to fetch his needles and wire for binding the wounds, Tomas settled on one of the chairs using a rag to wipe most of the blood and dirt from his face and chest. By the time Marius returned Tomas had managed to clean himself up except for the wound on his shoulder.
As Marius started to work on the wound, a guard entered the tent. “King Tomas, there is an envoy from Queen Sophia of Avarone waiting outside. A knight.”
“Well, send him in then.”
“Her, King Tomas. The knight is a woman.”