|Summary:||Bruce and Einar discuss the current situation|
|Related Logs:||Army at Grey Gardens in general.|
|Outside the Grey Gardens|
|The labrynthine fortress of Grey Garden sprawls atop a bare, rocky hillock commanding the south-eastern quarter of Harlaw Isle. The countryside is largely bare, with thin soil over weather-worn rock.|
|Wed Mar 07, 289|
Bruce is at the forward picket line, where some of the Naylands are posted today. Since it's a picket day, too, they aren't doing much training - only watching. Bruce is talking to one of the levies, a baker from Hag's Mire.
Einar is glad for once that the army is stationary and the picket duties are being shared, and not just because it means he's had to spend less time on the line himself. With the Naylands posted he has no need to brief and debrief every four hours, day and night, and the uninterrupted sleep seems like a blessing in and of itself. Just because there's no Flints out on the line though, doesn't mean he isn't curious as to what might be happening and shortly after lunch he finds himself with half an hour or so to spare and so goes to see if there's been any movement spotted.
Bruce gives the baker cum pikeman a pat on the shoulder and a smile, then turns to walk elsewhere on the line. He spots movement coming from the Cape of Eagles camp and turns to watch, his arms crossed over his chest.
Einar may not be the most recognisable man in camp, but his thick, heavy cloak sets him out of one of the northern contingent and the crossbow slung over his shoulder should narrow it down even further. Finally, once close enough an embroidered token can be seen hanging from his belt, Flint symbol, Camden motto, there's only two of those in camp and he's certainly not the Young Lord. Spotting Bruce he changes direction slightly to intercept the man and offers him a nod in greeting. "Anything moving Ser?" he asks conversationally, before taking a moment to glance towards the fortifications they besiege.
Bruce dips his head, though it's only slightly. This close to the line, it's wise not to make it obvious who everyone is, even if the enemy may not have weapons capable of reaching them. "M'lord. Nothing so far. But… we're spread to thinly to circumvent the whole keep. We've got patrols filling in the gaps but… just because we don't think any-one's moving, doesn't mean there aren't any. They're not stupid. They know when we aren't looking."
Cursory glance over with, Einar turns back to Bruce and nods in both understanding and agreement. "Aye Ser, and they'll know all the blind spots behind these defences well enough." Unconventional, yet damned effective really, the mounds and walls of the defenses. "Do you know who has the watch tonight?" he asks after a moment's thought, thankful at least that he has a day or so more before that duty falls again, "that is when we are the weakest. At least at times like this what watchers we have can see a fair distance."
"We've got watch on the stores tonight. I don't know what the other contingents are doing, because as usual, the amateurs aren't speaking to each other." Bruce has no problem being candid do the Flint man; perhaps he holds the man's house in regard. "But we put fifty men on the camp's stores, spread throughout that area. As far as the line, I believe it might be the Groves." He nods. "Aye. But the distance is a known enemy to the Ironmen. They keep out of sight."
Einar listens intently to the older man as he imparts the information, nodding his understanding at the appropriate points. "I'm sure Ser Anders will have already said," he replies, "but if any of the Flint forces can be of use outside of our allotted watches, then we are more than happy to do what we can. There is little else to do but drill and maintain kit, and it does not do to have the lads sit about idle." He pauses for a moment to reach down to a water skin slung near his hip. Lifting it up he takes a couple of sips before offering it across to Bruce. Given the knight's candidness towards him, he then adds, "We're aware that there are some amongst the army here who would rather we were elsewhere in this campaign, but that does not lessen our commitment to this force and it's objectives."
"No, it doesn't, but it's important that every contingent get their turn at the line to be busy, and for us to be rested, as well. One never knows when and if they will do something unexpected, and to overwork one group won't work." Bruce shakes his head with a bit of a smile. "No thank you, m'lord. So you know, the Naylands are not of that mind. Put the naysayers out of your head. You Flints have made huge strides. Any criticism I may have had before, during the Cape campaign, is dispelled."
Einar would agree that everyone should take their turn, at both work and rest and now the offer has been made, and declined, he leaves it be. If the situation changes then they'll all know about it after all. "I thank you for the reassurance Ser," he answers after a moment, mentally adding the Naylands to the Charltons as those he's spoken to himself in some way, shape or form, "although I had not counted your forces amongst that number." He hadn’t been sure in truth, but the regards that Anders seems to hold the man in had been a strong indication. Still though, the lad is new to the great political game and feeling his way carefully where he can.
"I think it's candidly ridiculous that people are letting their feelings in the way of good soldiering. But, that's what one gets for letting amateurs play the game." Bruce replies, with an irritated shrug.
Einar would, in truth, consider himself to be an amateur at soldiering, no matter what Fenrir might have to say on the subject, but he keeps that to himself for now and simply nods in response to Bruce's remark. Glancing to the castle again he opts for a change of subject. "Do you think they'll be content to just sit us out? They've had time to take in whatever stores were about, but from what I've heard of their nature, I'm not sure how long they'll be able to keep cool heads when there's a chance of a fight." Not that he's an expert mind, bu the does wonder.
"My idea is to lure them out as best as possible. But we're going up against Ser Harras Harlaw. He's no fool, and he's an experienced man. We'll see if they would even bother taking the bate, or if they'll be content to stay in the Grey Gardens." Ser Bruce looks over to his front, back at the formidable enemy stronghold. "If he doesn't stir, then we're like to take it by a frontal attack. Which would mean many dead, and more wounded."
"It's confirmed that Ser Harras is within then?" Einar asks, brow furrowing slightly at that. "I mean, I know it's his castle, but I had not heard we had him cornered here." He'll have to think that over later, seeing both advantages and disadvantages that he'll need to straighten out in his head.
Bruce shakes his head. "No, it's not confirmed. But it /is/ his keep, so that would stand to follow. I would assume the worst and say he is in; if not, then it's more fortunate for us, since he's formidable, as I said."
"The only Ironborn to take the holy vow," Einar says aloud, although not really to Bruce so much, "I wonder what made him choose that path." Something else to ponder over later it seems. Back on task though he turns to view the defences once more. "I think I would agree that our chances are far greater if he is absent," he opinions, this time definitely to Bruce, "they may lack the discipline needed to endure."
"Eh, whether or not he took the vow of the Seven is up for debate, m'lord." Bruce flashes a grin at Einar. "I'm knighted, but I wasn't anointed in the oils, nor did I pray at the Stoney Sept. I may pray to both old and new Gods, but I'm knighted for neither. I was knighted for the status." He nods. "They may. Or the may not. They're hardy, the Ironmen. I'll do as I always. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best."