Thread: The Strategist's Apprentice (draft 1, flash fiction, 1000 words; language)

(Hello, all! This is my first time posting my work on the site. I'm kind of nervous about it. ^_^;

This is a first draft, and while typically I would go over it a couple of times on my own before putting something out here, I'm new to flash fiction, and I'm still adapting to the limits of the format. In order to be polite, I'll be sure to offer a critique of my own for any commenter's work. Thanks again in advance!)


“WHAT?!” bellowed General Marcus. He was a large red beast of a man whose gold-plated armor strained against his burly chest. Everyone backed away, watching him nervously. “Those Levaran bastards, trying to attack us here? Well, I’ll show them. Our troops will have them running back home with their tails between their legs in no time at all! Lieutenant Morres!”
A young officer stepped forward and saluted. “Sir?”
“Go prepare the men for battle. If the enemy’s going to be here in two days, I want them ready to go by tomorrow. We’ll rush those wildmen away from our territory and be back in time for supper!” The general flashed a cunning grin.
Another man, an aging man in blue regalia, stepped forward and said quietly, “Um, General, sir, the enemy may have a stratagem in store for us. M-maybe we should hold off on attacking until we have a plan of our own.” Behind him, a young boy of eight was writing furiously, occasionally looking up at the assembly.
“Stratagem? Ha!” the general barked. “Bartholomew, our troops are superior to theirs in every way. Who has need of a strategy for a simple skirmish like this?”
“Perhaps,” spoke up Lieutenant Morres, scratching his beard stubble nervously, “we should take precautions, sir, just in case.”
“Enough! My mind’s made up! Morres, prepare the men! We march at sun-up!”
The lieutenant sighed briefly, but saluted again. “Yessir.”
As the conversation ended and people began exiting the tent, the young boy got his master’s attention. “Um, master,” he said quietly, “why aren’t you telling him about the Levarans’ flanking tactic?”
Bartholomew hushed him. “The general’s decision is final…as it always is,” he added with a small sigh. “And we must always respect the chain of command. Now come.”
Vander frowned. “Yes, master.” He looked at the map again one more time before running out of the tent.

That night, Vander snuck out of his tent and made his way to the officers’ tents. Although he had been told not to wander around the camp at night, he knew his master was worried about the outcome of the battle. “A wise strategist plans for every battle, no matter how simple it seems,” he always said to him. Sadly, he also knew his master wouldn’t say anything to anger the general. Of course, though Vander, he WAS really scary. But someone has to listen!
While he tried to think of who to talk to, a guard’s voice stopped him. “You there, boy! Why are you out here so late?”
Vander stammered, “I-I-I, um, I-I have a m-message for…for, um…”
“A message? For whom?”
The boy continued stuttering for a few moments, until suddenly he remembered a name. He said excitedly, “M-Morres! Lieutenant Morres, sir! My master said it’s urgent!”
“Master? Oh, right, Bartholomew’s boy.” The guard nodded and said, “Wait here, I’ll go see if he’s awake.”

Soon, Vander was standing before Lieutenant Morres, the guard watching over the tent’s entrance outside. The boy looked up at him. He wore a soft smile, which soothed Vander’s fears immediately.
“So, you are Bartholomew’s apprentice, aye?” said the lieutenant. “Your master speaks well of you. He says you have a promising future ahead of you.”
Vander nearly smiled at the compliment, but forced it down. “I-I hope so,” he said with a forced stutter.
“Huh? What do you mean?” Morres asked. The boy looked away, focusing on the map on the nearby table, but said nothing. The lieutenant followed his gaze. “Are you worried about the coming battle?”
“Well, my master is,” Vander replied, unable to meet the lieutenant’s eyes. “He asked me to send you a message. He was hoping you could convince the general to use a plan he devised.”
The lieutenant regarded him quietly. “I see. And why isn’t Bartholomew himself telling me this?”
Vander fidgeted. “Um, h-he started feeling sick and needed his rest, so he sent me.”
“Hmm. Well, the general is notoriously stubborn, especially towards the Levarans. Still, perhaps I could convince him on the march. What is this plan then?”
“It’s…well…” Vander tried to speak, but couldn’t. His eyes kept glancing to the map. “I can show you on there. That’s how my master showed me.”
Morres nodded and let the boy use the map. He watched as the young apprentice began moving markers around without a word, watching the pretend battle play out with a surprising intensity and speaking without any of the hesitation he’d shown before. When he was finished describing his plan, the boy backed away and let the lieutenant look over everything.
“So,” said Vander, once again speaking nervously, “what do you think?”
Morres smiled. “Impressive. With this, even if the Levarans flank us like this, we’ll be able to drive them back easily.” He turned his attention back to the boy. “Alright then, go tell your master I’ll be sure our troops are ready for the enemy. Oh, and send him my compliments.”
“I will sir, thank you!” Vander bowed and left, smiling all the way back to his master’s tent.

Two days later, the atmosphere in the camp was electric after their victory. In the command tent, the recently-returned general clapped his lieutenant on the back. “Ha ha! Excellent work, Morres! They were practically tripping over themselves trying to run away! That was a brilliant plan you had!”
Morres chuckled. “Thank you sir, but the credit really should go to Bartholomew. It was his tactic, not mine.”
Startled, Bartholomew looked up. “Huh?”
“No need to be modest,” continued Morres. “We’d almost certainly had lost if they’d successfully flanked us.”
The aging strategist just blinked. “I don’t remember devising a plan like that.”
“What’re you talking about? Your apprentice came in and told me about it last night!”
“Vander? I never sent Vander out for anything!”
The officers all looked at each other, then at the young boy. Vander looked up from his notes, saw everyone, and frowned. Stammering, he said guiltily, “A-am I in trouble now?”

Wow....that was intriguing. I don't often like war stories but this certainly got my attention. You could practically feel the blast of the general's breath with that first exclamation. I would like to see a little more spacing between dialogue so the reader can catch their breath. Other than that it was fast paced in a good way. You didn't terry too long with unneeded descriptions so it added thrill to the read. The ending was great I didn't know whether to feel bad for Vander or laugh at the way they all looked at him since I don't know if the looks were disapproving or awed. Good job soldier!

Thanks very much for reading it! You're probably right about the dialogue - I consider it my strong suit, so I probably leaned on it too much.

Sorry for the late reply, btw. ^_^

I enjoyed reading this. The dialogue was wonderful and so well done. Will Vander be having more adventures? I would like to read more......

I'm glad you enjoyed it, nerot!

If he's that popular, maybe he will have more adventures after all. I based him off of a character I'm using for NaNo this year, so I could conceive some new ideas...