The Ballad of Adler Young, Canto 2.5

>Burnside: Put the knife away
>Adler: You need an experienced veteran to drill these recruits into a fighting force

"HEY!" I yelled at Burnside as a yowling mob of elves withdrew, leaving her snarling and slashing in a small clear space bespattered with gore. "Quit carving up my army! It won't do to massacre them before they've even reached Albric Tor!"

"Ain't my fault they's so delicate," Burnside protested. "Somebody needs to toughen 'em up, or they'll have no hope of survival."

"I need them to survive their training without being permanently injured," I insisted. "Put the knife away and switch to something blunt."

"Don't see no point in that," she grumbled as she stowed the blade in her Elfintory.

Adler > Looking at the vial again, you feel a terrible sense of premonition. as if you have no choice but to use it
Adler, remember to ask the Duchess about proper handling procedures for the Plague of Battles. And also ask for an antidote in case if anything goes wrong.
Duchess, explain to Adler that there is no actual antidote

I reached into my own Elfintory and nervously fingered the phial of Plague of Battles. I had a terrible, ominous feeling just carrying this stuff around. Nervously I approached the Duchess of Daisies, who was still re-packing the War Chest.

"Um, about this Plague of Battles," I whispered. "How dangerous is it, exactly? Should I worry about it leaking in my Elfintory?"

"The container is magicked so's it can only be opened on purpose," the Duchess grunted.

"How exactly is it used? I mean, if I was going to use it ..."

"You pull the stopper out and drip two drops on the tip of an arrow. Don't get any of it on yourself. Then you'll wanna shoot that arrow right away, because the potion starts releasin' vapors which you don't wanna breathe. Shoot as far as you can; gauge your target distance beforehand. You'll also wanna be upwind of the target and preferably uphill since the vapor is like a heavy fog which tends to settle in low spots. Catch the enemy in a valley and it'll make short work of 'em, but don't stick around to watch. Shoot and skedaddle. Get as far away as you can, quick as you can. Even after the fog clears, the Plague of Battles will still be in the corpses and the ground, so don't go back for plunder. Anybody pokin' around in a field where this stuff was used'll just stir it up and catch the Plague their own selves. Takes a long time for it to lose its potency."

"Is there any antidote?"

"Nope."

"That's .. that's insanely irresponsible," I gasped.

"Wouldn't be much of a weapon if there was an effective defense against it," Catherine scoffed. "A quick-thinkin' magick user could whip up a barrier to keep it out, or a wind to blow it away I reckon .. but by the time they knew what it was they'd have already breathed it and caught the battle frenzy. And there ain't no castin' spells in a battle frenzy."

I couldn't think of any reply to that, so I peeked over Catherine's shoulder into the chest.

>Adler: Insist on wearing some of Irenaeus' regalia. That actually fits.
> Duchess: Shrug and produce a...

"There's got to be a piece of Irenaeus' regalia in there that I can wear," I murmured. "Come on, I'm his heir and I'm supposed to be leading an army. I need some powerful token of my Imperial lineage."



"Fine, here," the Duchess sighed, holding an object out toward me. "This is most likely the only thang what ain't the wrong size for you. Use it well."

"A tail comb?" I exclaimed. "How many of those things did Irenaeus have?"

"Every fluffy-tailed elf I know has a couple extry ones to spare," Catherine shrugged.

"Yes, but Irenaeus had no tail!" I retorted.

"He had one when he started, and afterwards he wore a fake tail for a while, which I'm sure needed combin' same as a real one. Do you want this here ancetral relic or not?"

"I'll take it," I grumped, stuffing the tail comb into my Elfintory and stomping back into the Listening Post.

Alright, let's stop pussyfooting about it and finally ditch the velvet dork suit

"If you're going to command a rebel army as a Claimant to the Throne, you need to look more regal," Ms. Thomson confronted me as soon as I entered the room. "Dispense with your satin Princely Attire, and forget the regalia of an Ambassador to the Antglade. The Sisterhood has authorised me to present you with this elegant, noble jacket which will inspire awe and admiration in friends and enemies alike."



I put on the new jacket and admired its classy lines and comfortable fit. This was certainly a step up from my old Dork Suit!

"Ah, you cut quite a dashing figure in that, Your Highness," Thomson sighed dreamily. "Now, surely, your troops will follow you anywhere."

"Whoah," SALV Fofox concurred. "Lookin' totally hot there, Prince Adler!"

>The Marching Bagflute Players is significant. Very significant. Terrifyingly significant. Not sure if it bodes well or ill, but it bodes something.
>The child with the helmet is amongst the soldiers. They seem to think he's important because of the helmet.
Army > still eating and drinking, the army march towards albric tor "see ya at the party adler!" someone yelled as they marched off. The music follows with them
Adler and his staff, be surprised at how easily the soldiers started obeying orders issued by the "diminutive commander".

Meanwhile, the baglute music outside got louder and the army began to chant: "THREE CHEERS FOR THE LITTLE COMMANDER! HIP HIP ... HOORAY!!"

A small voice which I could have sworn sounded just like Lem Junior shrieked excitedly: "Let's march on Albric Tor, fellers, an' kick their Imperial butts!"

The rest of the voice's declarations were drowned out by more cheering and raucous baglutes.

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Spoiler
Around the other end of the building:



"That bold young elflet," Griff croaked mechanically while Scuti Preston dangled from its backside. "He has Fuma's gift of command. He would make a suitable host for me, one far better than this ungainly Antglade contraption."

"Wait, Sire," Alice Chetsweeks whispered. "Be not so quick to discount the heir of Irenaeus."