Read Online Stiger’s Tigers (Chronicles of An Imperial Legionary Officer Book 1) by Marc Alan Edelheit - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Marc Alan Edelheit
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short sword. He looked much relieved.
“Yes sir?” Ikely answered just as loudly.
“Every man is to go to the stream and have a proper toilet.” A groan went up at this statement, and the men shifted uncomfortably. A few conversations broke out amongst them. A proper toilet meant bathing, laundering tunics, and shaving. Many of the men were sporting beards.
“Kits are to be washed, maintained and cleaned,” Stiger continued. This was followed by another collective groan.
“Yes sir,” Lieutenant Ikely responded.
“Lieutenant, see that the bucks are roasted immediately. Each man will stand for inspection. Once he has passed, he can feast and have his fill.”
Another hearty cheer went up, followed by a near mad dash for the stream or back to the tents to gather up kits. So eager were they for a good meal, the men did not even wait for orders from the good lieutenant. In moments, only Stiger remained with the sergeants, his lieutenants and Bennet.
“I am sorry for what I done, sir,” Bennet said, returning the captain’s gaze. He was trembling violently.
“It was just a demonstration,” Stiger reinforced firmly, edging closer to the man. The captain was impressed the man had the courage to look him in the eyes. Perhaps saving Bennet had not been such a bad thing. “I expect to hear no more of it. Understood?”
“Yes sir,” Bennet answered with a nod.
“Go get yourself cleaned up and fed,” Stiger ordered, gesturing in the direction of the stream.
“Yes sir,” Bennet said, and dashed off after the rest.
“Letting that man off could be dangerous, sir,” Ranl said after Bennet was out of earshot. “Examples need to be made, or it encourages similar acts.”
“Agreed,” Stiger said, “but then again, making an example of him may have been just as dangerous.”
“Aye,” Blake admitted with a deep sigh. “It could have been at that, sir.”
“Let us hope this is the end of such ugly business,” Stiger said carefully, bending down to pick up both of his canteens and his toiletry bag. Holding them by the straps, he slung them over his right shoulder. “Hell of a way to begin a morning,” he breathed to himself with a wry smile, which his scar dutifully turned to a sneer. He brushed past the sergeants, continuing on his way into the farmhouse.
Eli joined him. Stiger knew from past experience he was about to receive a lecture on carelessness. Like the recent attempt on his life, the captain was confident, the lecture likely would not be his last.
Five
“They will require a great deal of my attention,” Eli reported of the scouts he had been asked to evaluate. Both he and Stiger were seated on a fallen snag, which had conveniently dropped directly in front of the farmhouse sometime in the last few years. The captain held his mess bowl in one hand and with the other he used a knife to eat. He chewed slowly as he listened to Eli wrap up his report of the previous evening’s activities with the scouts.
“I can readily admit they are eager,” the elf continued. “It is a rare opportunity, as you are well aware.”
Stiger swallowed and suppressed a smirk of amusement by taking a sip of water from his canteen. Eli was matter-of-fact, without even a hint of intentional superiority. He simply believed what he was saying.
Elves acted as though humans should feel very privileged to converse, let alone learn from them. Stiger supposed that had he had a thousand or more years behind him, with an unknowable number ahead, he might feel the same way.
The captain shifted uncomfortably at the thought of his friend’s incredible age. Eli was still young for an elf, having been born, at his own admission, just over a thousand years ago. Stiger’s mere thirty years made him a child by comparison … a blink of an eye for Eli.
Only the youth of the elven nations ever ventured out into the wider world to mix with the other races. The elders, secluded deep in the elven realms, considered wanderlust
“Yes sir?” Ikely answered just as loudly.
“Every man is to go to the stream and have a proper toilet.” A groan went up at this statement, and the men shifted uncomfortably. A few conversations broke out amongst them. A proper toilet meant bathing, laundering tunics, and shaving. Many of the men were sporting beards.
“Kits are to be washed, maintained and cleaned,” Stiger continued. This was followed by another collective groan.
“Yes sir,” Lieutenant Ikely responded.
“Lieutenant, see that the bucks are roasted immediately. Each man will stand for inspection. Once he has passed, he can feast and have his fill.”
Another hearty cheer went up, followed by a near mad dash for the stream or back to the tents to gather up kits. So eager were they for a good meal, the men did not even wait for orders from the good lieutenant. In moments, only Stiger remained with the sergeants, his lieutenants and Bennet.
“I am sorry for what I done, sir,” Bennet said, returning the captain’s gaze. He was trembling violently.
“It was just a demonstration,” Stiger reinforced firmly, edging closer to the man. The captain was impressed the man had the courage to look him in the eyes. Perhaps saving Bennet had not been such a bad thing. “I expect to hear no more of it. Understood?”
“Yes sir,” Bennet answered with a nod.
“Go get yourself cleaned up and fed,” Stiger ordered, gesturing in the direction of the stream.
“Yes sir,” Bennet said, and dashed off after the rest.
“Letting that man off could be dangerous, sir,” Ranl said after Bennet was out of earshot. “Examples need to be made, or it encourages similar acts.”
“Agreed,” Stiger said, “but then again, making an example of him may have been just as dangerous.”
“Aye,” Blake admitted with a deep sigh. “It could have been at that, sir.”
“Let us hope this is the end of such ugly business,” Stiger said carefully, bending down to pick up both of his canteens and his toiletry bag. Holding them by the straps, he slung them over his right shoulder. “Hell of a way to begin a morning,” he breathed to himself with a wry smile, which his scar dutifully turned to a sneer. He brushed past the sergeants, continuing on his way into the farmhouse.
Eli joined him. Stiger knew from past experience he was about to receive a lecture on carelessness. Like the recent attempt on his life, the captain was confident, the lecture likely would not be his last.
Five
“They will require a great deal of my attention,” Eli reported of the scouts he had been asked to evaluate. Both he and Stiger were seated on a fallen snag, which had conveniently dropped directly in front of the farmhouse sometime in the last few years. The captain held his mess bowl in one hand and with the other he used a knife to eat. He chewed slowly as he listened to Eli wrap up his report of the previous evening’s activities with the scouts.
“I can readily admit they are eager,” the elf continued. “It is a rare opportunity, as you are well aware.”
Stiger swallowed and suppressed a smirk of amusement by taking a sip of water from his canteen. Eli was matter-of-fact, without even a hint of intentional superiority. He simply believed what he was saying.
Elves acted as though humans should feel very privileged to converse, let alone learn from them. Stiger supposed that had he had a thousand or more years behind him, with an unknowable number ahead, he might feel the same way.
The captain shifted uncomfortably at the thought of his friend’s incredible age. Eli was still young for an elf, having been born, at his own admission, just over a thousand years ago. Stiger’s mere thirty years made him a child by comparison … a blink of an eye for Eli.
Only the youth of the elven nations ever ventured out into the wider world to mix with the other races. The elders, secluded deep in the elven realms, considered wanderlust
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