It was perplexing and yet the damage and loss of lives to the Kingdom of Philanthia was substantial. The King was on the verge of ordering a full out invasion of Crona. Such an action was not wise I thought, but there was little other option given the continued breaking of peace agreements and the many border raids.
I looked around me at the soldiers that I led. This was a training exercise and not so much a real patrol mission. All of them were new recruits being put through their paces in preparation for increasing the size of the army in order to invade Crona and yet remain secure on Philanthia's other borders. All the young men of Philanthia that could be spared from industry and the farms had been called up for active duty as soldiers.
The city and farm boys around me, although ironically some of them were as old as me, knew absolutely nothing when it came to fighting in a war. If they didn't learn fast though they'd soon find out the hard way.
I'd worked tirelessly to teach them what I knew in hopes that some of them would pick up on it and thus more of them would have a greater chance of survival when open conflict occurred. Each of my friends were likewise in command of a batch of young recruits, facing the same uphill battle as I was in terms of turning men of peace into men of war.
Philanthia was a kingdom long at peace and, while they fielded an impressive army, there were few with much, if any, battle experience within the ranks. The last five months of my life had consisted of turning raw recruits into fighters, who were then transferred into more regular divisions of the army.
It had been both a rewarding experience and a horrendous one. Some recruits had excelled, while others just weren't cut out to be soldiers. The case in point for the latter were the two scouts that were even now approaching the column.
I came to a stop and the column halted behind me in expectation of the scouts' report. The two scouts pulled up and the favored spokesperson of the two rattled off, "Not a thing to be seen Sir."
Slightly aggravated I asked, "Where did you look?"
Both scouts looked back at me blankly and then one pointed over towards the Nicationer Nation of Halifaz, across which Cronian Raiders had been slipping in order to raid Philanthia. "Over there," he said, looking at me as if I was stupid.
I fought hard against the urge to scream. Neither of the boys were old enough to even grow a beard worth shaving, so what was the use in yelling at them. I called on a hidden reserve of patience as I sought to be constructive in my criticism, "As scouts you are the eyes and ears of the force you are attached to. You are the front line. The safety of all these men behind me depends on you two doing your job. Now, tell me why it takes two of you to ride along the border?"