Chapter 30: Scribble
"Me?!"
Sari stood firm, his gaze unwavering. "You heard. Get over here."
I sighed, knowing there was no escape. "Great..."
Reluctantly, I and my squad moved to stand beside Sari.
Pheonix, not one to back down, made his first pick. "Squad Asher."
Asher of Maidenpool, a stalwart and disciplined lad, was an ideal candidate and would have been my top choice had I been in Pheonix's position. He personified many of the qualities that mirrored Pheonix himself. I even caught him trying to shave his head one morning and put a stop to it.
We didn't need that trend catching on in camp.
Right from the moment he joined the corps, Asher embraced the disciplined environment with unwavering ease. His strict adherence to our principles often made him unpopular during the early days, as his commitment to excellence highlighted the shortcomings of others.
Consequently, when the squads were formed, Asher was grouped with the undesirables — the ones considered too weak to be desired or socially awkward to find their place in a squad, despite the recent cultural buzz in the Crownlands.
Sari yawned in response, "You choose, Rhaenar. Wake me up when this is done."
"You don't want to pick our team?" I said.
Sari shrugged, "You know these people better than I."
Nathaniel winced beside me, "So he didn't choose us for our strength?"
Chit's brow darkened, "We're doomed."
"Calm yourselves," I said, "There is truth in Sari's words."
Smiling, I confidently made our next pick, "Squad Evelyn."
A collective gasp echoed through the crowd as a blonde maiden in a green cloak pointed to herself in disbelief, "Us?"
Embracing Sari's nonchalant style, I mirrored her delivery with a touch of bravado, "You heard me. Get over here."
Chit couldn't believe his ears and exclaimed, "Of all the foolish choices! She doesn't even fight in the shield wall!"
Nathaniel scratched his head, adding, "It is an odd choice."
Indeed, each squad consisted of twelve members, but not all were expected to participate in direct combat.
While women, children, and the elderly endured the gruelling marches and sparring sessions, their inclusion in the frontline ranks was not a given. Even my own participation was challenging, as I was not yet physically developed enough to handle the equipment.
To address this issue of otherwise unused manpower, we implemented a system within the squads.
Ideally, each squad would comprise ten combatants forming a 'Decade' or a cohesive unit on the battlefield, with an additional two stewards, resulting in a squad of twelve or a 'Dozen.' Hence why there are twelve people per tent.
Dozens, decades, stewards, combatants… I admit we might have got ahead of ourselves, but it made things easier once we got used to it, and it helped with the culture.
Stewards trained alongside us, but their duties focused more on camp life and upkeep. In many ways, their role could be even more demanding, at least as far as the boot camp was concerned.
Consequently, our stewards earned great respect within our camp, and their squads even nominated some to become leaders.
One of such respected stewards was Evelyn, a charismatic beauty from a village outside Stokeworth. Her squad was certainly not known for their martial prowess, but gods forbid you got on her bad side.
"I knew it," said Evelyn, taking my extended hand, "You *do* want to marry me."
I chuckled, "No thanks. I'd rather live to a ripe old age."
Chit was fully absorbed in the process by this point, "But if we got Evelyn, then it's obvious who Sir Phoenix will choose next—"
"Squad Zane," announced Phoenix, which elicited a collective groan from my team.
"They get Asher AND Zane?!" Chit exclaimed.
Zane, hailing from Maidenpool, was the robust son of a dockworker.
Growing up on the same street together, Zane and Asher were close in age but starkly contrasted in personality. While Asher adhered strictly to the army's principles, Zane embodied a carefree and fun-loving spirit, driven by the thrill of the game.
Zane was the epitome of a typical "boys' boy," engaging in locker room banter and reveling in the moment. His priorities were crystal clear: glory, gold, and genitalia.
With his booming, infectious laughter and a knack for mischief, Zane had garnered immense popularity within the camp. Naturally, many talented and strong volunteers gravitated towards him, making his squad the toughest, at least in theory.
"I can't believe you picked Asher over me," said Zane, joining Pheonix's ranks.
"Be it better he didn't pick you at all," Asher said.
"Worried I'll take all the credit?" winked Zane.
Asher's gaze remained stoic, "Please. This victory will belong to Sir Pheonix."
"Those two squads working together is just unfair!" Chit said.
I ignored the concerns of Chit, "We'll take Squad Gorgeous," I said, "Get your ass over here, George!"
"R-R-Roger that!"
This process continued for a while until finally, both teams stood facing each other, fully formed.
Each side had 25 squads, with some squads designated for non-fighting participants or members being rearranged to accommodate them. In total, each side boasted roughly 300 combatants.
With the teams finalized, we agreed to commence the battle the following day at dawn. The remaining hours of the day were spent strategizing and engaging in light exercises.
Meanwhile, Pete and Hayden Cuckright led a group tasked with constructing a raised podium for optimal viewing. Brien, despite his compromised eyesight from years of reading by candlelight, would join Theodore in documenting the proceedings. I desired as many firsthand accounts as possible.
The squad leaders from both teams convened with their respective sides to discuss strategy.
From our view, we could observe the intense unity radiating from the gathering around Pheonix. Asher stood steadfastly by his side, his gaze unwavering. Laughter erupted, likely ignited by one of Zane's humorous remarks, spreading contagious mirth throughout their assembly.
"Look at them over there," Chit remarked, a sense of defeat in his voice. "We're so fucked."
"You're not even supposed to be here," I told him, "Lieutenants and Captains only."
A note on our army structure: I drew inspiration from the structure of the Mafia, an organized crime organization from my past life.
In the mafia, each family had a leader known as the 'boss,' which, in this case, would be me.
Then there would be an underboss who assisted me in managing the operations. In my situation, Sari and Phoenix played the role.
The underboss would be responsible for communicating with their captains or 'capos.' These captains, in turn, oversaw their own smaller crews led by lieutenants.
Transplanting this simple analogy into our army structure, a 10-12 person squad resembled one of these smaller crews, with its elected leader serving as the lieutenant. When several of these squads were grouped, they formed a 100-man unit led by a Captain.
(Of course, in a typical army, several 100-man units would come together to form a battalion. In such cases, it would be necessary to establish a new rank for the officer responsible for organizing and leading this larger unit. Given our circumstances and the limited number of volunteers, we didn't concern ourselves with creating that rank at the time.)
[TO REVIEW]
Such organization of an army is expected, with some variations.
However, the combination of a squad-based structure, individual decision-making, and a culture of togetherness greatly contributed to our army's agility, initiative, and effective leadership. The approach allowed us to leverage our units' collective strength while harnessing our leaders' expertise and ingenuity, enhancing overall effectiveness on the battlefield.
Or so we intended.
Team Sari's squad leaders gathered around me as I used a stick to scribble battle plans in the dirt.
"What's the plan?" asked Mathew of Brindlewood. We affectionately called him Mathew Buck due to his prominent buck teeth, but I knew he was skilled with the spear.
"S—Survive?" George suggested half-heartedly.
"Hardly," I replied. "I don't know about all of you, but I certainly don't want to face Sari's wrath if we lose."
Evelyn chimed in, "Others take us."
"Listen," I said, "We may be lack in strength, but Sari was right. I *do* know our personnel, and we have something that ties all of our squads together."
Mathew Buck quickly caught on, "Healthy egos. I thought your choices were strange."
The concept of a 'healthy ego' was something I had emphasized during our theory lessons, which were essentially seminars led by myself.
The idea was that too much ego among decision-makers would lead to ruin on the battlefield, but too little would stifle creativity and impactful, victory-swaying critical moments.
"Exactly," I affirmed. "While our team may lean towards the meeker side, it actually works to our advantage."
"How?" Mathew Buck asked, intrigued.
I smiled mischievously. "Think about it. Even if we lose, we'll have the pleasure of watching Pheonix struggle to keep his army in line, his blood boiling with frustration!"
Evelyn facepalmed. "So, you don't have a plan..."
I chuckled. "Oh, my dear dazzling beauty, of course I have a plan! Don't be so gloomy. We can't have you getting any wrinkles!"
But then my expression turned serious. War mode activated.
"Listen up," I declared, drawing our battle plan in the dirt
"Because I'll only explain this a thousand times."
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
ssyffix
ssyffix Getting to the point where I'll have to organize my notes. My brain can barely tell read difference between Valyrian and Valaryon, even at the best of times. We're one brainfart away from Sari being a bald black man with buckteeth! xD
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