Mainz stands for Mogun
{This story takes place on the first night that Bolverk's Army encamps near Mainz}
Prologue
The Army of the Red General had marched for weeks through the Lower Lorraine, drenched in cold spring downpours and slogging along muddy roads and sometimes making only seven miles in a day for their troubles. The lords of western Germania had been helpful if not overly welcoming, providing useful aid, resources and occasionally guides to ease the army's trek through the ancient western forests and over the worst of the low mountain passes still choked with spring snows.
The reception of the army in Cologne then came as a shock to the stolid troopers and green recruits alike for the people of the city hailed them as heroes and threw flower petals from high buildings as they marched through the narrow streets of the Altstadt. The lords and ladies of Cologne held lavish feasts for noble and commoner alike and the affections of the people were returned by the troops in equal measure. Everywhere throughout the city the air of gay festivities held sway as if to hold the darkness ahead at bay. The candles burned low every night in taverns, inns and brothels and the soldiery found rest and plentiful meals in the homes of adopted families.
Thus it was with heavy hearts that the army formed up and began a ten day's march along the Rhine river to Mainz. The great river was high with spring runoff and the road was flooded in many places and the few fields where the army camped were sodden and cold. Day by day the damp worked its way into the men's clothes, and the fever took its share before the army reached the flat lands around Mainz. The morale of the troops fell greatly during the journey, not only from the cold and damp, but most of all from not seeing their stalwart lord Bolverk riding among them on his great destrier. It is a matter of military wisdom that the men of an army find a surrogate father in their general and Bolverk possessed a sway over his men that surpassed the norm among warlords and their troopers.
That first dawn as the army came slowly out of the Rhine valley into the farmlands around Mainz, the men began to laugh again as they looked about at the lush vineyards and blooming orchards. The road was well looked after and the companies made good time. On the southern bank, a mile from the walls of the city, the commanders established a camp and the men settled into the welcome monotony of putting together a new site. The work was hard but routine and the campsite was dry for a change. Soon enough the companies were settled around cheerful campfires eating and drinking, telling lies and yarns, but most of all waiting for the appearance of their warlord.
The horns of the scouts brought all the men to their feet. Moments later the thunder of hooves presaged the appearance of Bolverk's outriders, shortly followed by the warlord's cohort closely grouped around their master. Every man, commoner soldier, mercenary trooper and would be crusader turned to stand attention. Those closest to the warlord's route formed up in rows to salute their leader as he passed. For his part, Bolverk slowed his horse to walk and dismounted to walk among the men, from there he made eye contact with all those he passed and occasionally stopped to speak personally with random soldiers offering a few words of encouragement. One could see the immediate difference in the disposition of the men and the spirit of the camp, and the men remained where they stood until all sight of the general vanished into the night.
Gervasius and Elek Baráth
