It was a few days before we met anyone else coming to the aid of Erengrad. I would have expected to run into the Pulk of Pradeshynya before now, but it seemed that Lord Yusupov was keeping his troops at home. As it happened we met up with the Pulk of Vitzy in the hills Northeast of Erengrad, between the City and the Blight. Vitzy was a town that was so far east that it was practically in the Northern Oblast, situated along the Lesser Lynsk River that flowed from the Crags of Shargun, skirted along the Blight, and eventually joined with the Greater Lynsk just east of Krakjunov. In fact, Vitzy was a source of contention between the Western and Northern Oblast and had been for centuries. The Western Oblast's claim to it was based on the fact that Vitzy had been an Ungol settlement, much like Erengrad had been, and had been conquered by the Khan-Queen Shoika and given to her nephew, the Prince Ervhen to rule along with the rest of the conquered Ungol territories in the west. My own family, the Yevchenko Family, claimed descent from Prince Ervhen via his youngest, and only surviving son. Meanwhile, the Northern Oblast claimed that when the mainline Shoikan Dynasty died out and the current Strasznik Dynasty founded by Igor the Terrible in 532 Gospodarin took power, Vitzy's sovereignty should have been transferred to them based on agreements made with Igor himself, which had been walked back by his successors along with most other acts that Igor had made. For my part, I was just happy to see another Kislevite host on the field, nevermind who that host's overlord was or should be.
I gave the order and my Pulk slowed to a stop, slowly as the order filtered back through the marching columns, but much more efficiently than the Pulk of Vitzy, which was almost painfully slow to react. I knew the extra months of drill would pay off, I just didn't think it would be so soon. As both pulks slowed to a stop, I took Otabeg and Urist Malkisson with me to meet up with Lord Wolkowitz of Vitzy and his captains, spurring our mounts towards a meeting spot in the center of the two armies. As we rode out, I took a look at the Pulk of Vitzy. What I was seeing wasn't that encouraging. He had the standard Kossars and Streltsi with him, though in lesser amounts than what I had and most were equipped with light armor and older weapons. He had a contingent of Winged Lancers with him, but there were around half of what I had, all equipped in mail rather than plate or scale armor. What really concerned me was that to pad out the numbers, he seemed to have levied around 200 peasants from his estates and armed them with spears and leather jacks. I didn't see an artillery train, but then that wouldn't be with the main army anyway and would likely be with the baggage train.
"If this is an army, I weep for his lands." Said Otabeg as we rode forth. Urist just grunted in agreement.
"We don't know what kind of troubles Vitzy might have, their entire voivodeship borders the blight." I admonished.
"Least they showed up. That's more than the damned Pradeshnyans." Said Urist.
By now we had reached the center of the field, and I could see Lord Wolkowitz and his own companions. Stepan Wolkowitz was a man who had grown up in the shadow of the blight, fending off incursions from brigands, greenskins, and worse that made the marshlands there their homes. As such he was powerfully built, a giant of a man, with his drooping mustache, faded to gray over time and a scar on his face under his left eye from some goblin's knife or brigand's dirk in some long-ago skirmish. He was clad in scale armor, a cut above what the rest of his cavalry were equipped with, and he bore at his belt, not a sabre, like a normal cavalryman, but a mace with a flanged head that would crush an orcish skull just as easily as it would a human's. He probably preferred it to a sabre, which required more precision to take down something like a greenskin nob. At his side was what looked to be a knight, wearing a full cuirass of plate over mail and bearing an arming sword like those favored in the Empire and Brettonia, he was built like his father and I realized that this was probably Lord Wolkowitz's son and heir, Feliks, who had been away in the Empire until recently to study. On the other side of the Lord of Vitzy was a man wearing the red and orange robes and gold, sunburst medallion, of a priest of Dazh, the god of the Sun, Summer, and Fire. Dazh wasn't the most suited of the gods to be taking into battle with us, as many of the spells he grants his priests were non-combat related, but better to have a god on our side than to not. I rode up to them and held out a hand, "Hail!" I called out.
"Hail to you, young Yevchenko. I have come to answer the call, though not with as many as I had hoped. There seem to be more brigands in the Blight now than at any point in the last decade. I have had to leave many men behind to make sure that my Stanitsas are not being raided and to patrol the ways between them." Called out Lord Wolkowitz.
"I understand completely. I too had to leave many troops behind in my lands, lest nomads from Troll Country think us an easy target." I replied.
"What of Lord Yusupov and Pradeshynya? Are they not with you?" Asked Feliks Wolkowitz.
"Lord Yusupov has seen fit to keep his entire Pulk home. He claims to be protecting himself from Brigands in the Blight, but I have suspicions. Probably best not shared in the open just yet, though." I replied.
"Surely you don't mean to suggest that Lord Yusupov is in league with these Norscans?" Scoffed Feliks Wolkowitz. "No right-thinking man would dare ally with those degenerate worshippers of foul gods."
Lord Wolkowitz gave his son a look and said, "You may be surprised at how many will align themselves with Norscans if they feel it is in their interests. They have after all been commonly used as mercenaries in places far removed from the usual Norscan Raids such as Tilea and the Border Princes, but I do not think that is what Lord Yevchenko is implying, are you lad?"
"Indeed not, I have evidence of corruption of a more mundane sort on the part of Lord Yusupov. I will not bring it forwards while the Norscans yet remain on Kislevite soil, however. We have bigger issues to deal with than that at the moment." I replied.
So our two Pulks began to set up camp for the night. My own erected a fairly crude approximation of a camp fort utilizing the supply Wagons and some basic earthworks. Apparently, the Kislevites had Hussite wagon forts and most Kossars could make an approximation of a field fortification even if they didn't have any of the actual war wagons with them by using basic earthworks to cover the gaps that using regular supply wagons would cause in the fortifications. Thanks to Captain Mikolaj's drills, our fort might even deter a determined assault by a splinter force of the Norscan Host. The fortifications of Vitzy's Pulk was somewhat more slapdash, the marshes that made up most of their voivodeship were not exactly conducive to earthworks or wagon forts, so they made do with more mobile, wooden, defenses. Gulay-gorods, planks of upright wood mounted on wheels, formed temporary wooden walls, and cheval de frise rows were placed down and lashed together. These mobile defenses gave some measure of cover and deterred light attack while allowing defenders to rally in time to fight back. It was more of a tripwire than a full-on defense. I could see how it would be effective in dense terrain like marshes where more typical earthworks and wagon forts wouldn't be feasible.
Between the two camps, on a hill, sat a pavilion where the leaders of both Pulks could plan strategy. We sat around a table, on which sat a map of the local area. At one end was a seat for me. To my right, propped up on a cushion, sat Urist Malkisson. To my left, sipping on a skin of Kvas, sat Otabeg. Further to my right was Burlok Gormmson, still in armor even while in the heart of the camp. He had taken up a position as the unofficial Siege Master and official Quartermaster of my Pulk ever since we rode out of Chebekov. Further down from Otabeg sat a Captain Orlov, a Druzhina who was in charge of Lord Wolkowitz's own supply train, then Feliks Wolkowitz, followed by Lord Wolkowitz himself, and the Priest of Dazh, whose name was apparently Father Adam Ivanovich. Together we jointly controlled some 1,850 Professional Troops, 200 peasant levies, and 20 guns. It was a decent-sized army, but my troops were clearly superior in both training and equipment.
Lord Stepan began the war council with a statement of fact, one that I had not heard as I had been pushing my Pulk to travel and not stop at any villages or Stanitsas and instead to camp on the road. "First off, let me give you my condolences. Your brother Simeon sailed out with Erengrad's Fleet to try and force the Sarl Armada towards the shore in accordance with your father's plan to trap them between the bay and the walls of the city. It did not work and he was slain by the Sarl Warchielf in combat. As of this moment, you are the heir to Erengrad. I wish I could say it was under better circumstances." He said.
That hit me hard, or rather it hit what was left of Tadeusz inside of me hard. I was more detached from the situation than the person whose body I had jacked. It still bled through my detachment and I had to take a few deep breaths to steady myself. I had memories of Simeon Yevhcenko as a model older brother. Even if they were not my own, they were still a part of whatever composite being I currently was. I blinked away tears and slowly reached for the glass of Vodka on the table in front of me, downing the drink in one go. The burning sensation shocked me out of my melancholy and let me remind myself that there was still a job to do.
I rubbed the tears out of my eyes and said, "Thank you. Simeon was in many ways a model older brother. We must ensure that his sacrifice was not in vain."
Lord Stepan nodded and said, "Quite so, how we will do so is another matter entirely. The Sarl Host is around 20,000 men strong, we have a mere 2,050 troops at our disposal, plus the 13,500 trapped in Erengrad that were all the troops your father could gather before the Norscans made their play for the bay, but unless we make significant headway against the Sarl Host it is unlikely that a sally from them at the same time will be enough to break them."
"Where are the forces from the Verge or the Lower Urskoy Voivodeships?" I asked.
"Only Krakjunov and Milkavala sent troops to Erengrad before it was placed under siege. They're trapped in the City along with Erengrad's Pulk. Of the rest, Emsk has cited the need to keep an eye on the Imperial Border as a reason to not send troops which your father accepted grudgingly, Irjisara is dealing with Greenskins from the Osterwald and cannot send aid, and Kamysh, Chzovich, and Gorovny have been stalled out by the Sarls sending raids into their hinterlands now and again. It's quite the mess. If your father were a younger man, it is likely that they would have gathered together to relieve him already. Alas, the Lord of Emsk is a young lad of 13 who does not remember the victories your father won in his youth, and the Lords of Kamysh, Chzovich, and Gorovny are old men, prone to caution in their actions. They will likely not send aid until the raiders in their hinterlands are dealt with, for fear of being attacked in the rear if they were to go to your father's aid right away." Replied Lord Stepan.
"That is understandable, threats close to home must be dealt with. The same for Irjisara and their Greenskin problem, for the Orcs will not stop until the entire world has been pillaged. Emsk on the other hand has no excuse. There are 3,500 troops in their Pulk and they want to keep them at home to keep an eye on our allies in the Empire? I say it is more likely that their young lord simply does not wish to risk himself when others are willing to do so for him. I cannot prove it though." I fumed. Erengrad was Kislev's largest port. Forget the personal stake that I had in this, if Erengrad fell to the Norscans, that was like a third of Kislev's GDP gone in a single action. Probably more than that. If the city fell cause Emsk held back their troops, that was more than cowardice, that was treason. I couldn't do anything about it now though, I had to will myself to focus on the task at hand.
"Right, so no help from that quarter then. Fortunately, I brought artillery. You also have a priest of Dazh with you. I have a plan that might maximize our chances of breaking through the Sarl Host enough that a sally from Erengrad might be able to hit them from the other side and rout them. If we can lift the siege, the other Voivodeships will join in even if they didn't already. They can't take the risk that the Sarls fragment and turn to raiding their lands for food if they don't. Father Adam, is it true that priests of Dazh can call upon the sun god's power to blind their enemies?" I asked.
"We can. What are you thinking?" Replied the Priest.
"I'm thinking we attack at dawn, out of the hills to the east of the city. Let gravity build the momentum of our charge, let Dazh blind our enemies, and let our artillery break up their ranks so that our charge can hit home. If we do it right, we might be able to kill enough of them in the opening part of the engagement, that we can strike a decisive blow before they can reform their ranks. That might be enough to get the troops in Erengrad to sally, which might, in turn, be enough to break the Sarl Host. We could put the Norscans to flight by hitting them in several ways early on before they have a chance to reform from the initial attack." I laid out. We haggled over details for the rest of the day, but by the time we all went to bed, we had a decent plan that would maximize our advantages over the Norscans and hopefully kill enough of them early on to cause a chain of events that would ultimately lead to their collapse and routing. If it worked, clean up would be easy.
I suppose we'd just have to find out when we put the plan into motion