A Royal Progress. Meet The King's Own Regiment.

After consulting with your council, you let them know that you'll be setting out on a Royal Progress to visit your vassals, particularly ones who haven't been to the capital to swear allegiance to you personally. That afternoon, you're in the Map Room with Lord Garret as you were the preceding evening, talking about the various troops and contingents that make up the army of Itheria.

"Lord Gilbert did a good job as your regent, of threading the needle," Lord Garret says. "Choosing when to make a show of ****, and when to negotiate disputes. Some of the hotheads are spoiling for a real fight. The duties they've been about, these past few years, have felt petty for those serving under the banner of Itheria."

You look to your Marshal. "The bulk of the army, should a war be joined in earnest, that would be ducal forces, rather than royal ones?"

"Yes, your majesty," he says. "And when we've shown **** on a border, the regional lord's forces are always part of the action. They know the ground, and the inhabitants. Easier to get quarters and move about."

"Well-disciplined, Marshal? The local forces?" you ask.

"They vary, your majesty," he says. "All of them fine lads for garrison and support troops, for defense and scouting. Some of them are up to the standards we'd want for a proper battle. The county and baronial forces near the Great Forest marches?" He tilts his head. "Not the best. So we'll bring a larger **** for your Royal Progress there than we would in the Itherian heartlands. We might even see action."

"Lord Garret, you served under my father," you say. "He fought battles along with his troops. That is how he fell, there on the marches. What would he be doing as the army was being mobilized?"

Lord Garret scratches his beard. "He was close to his troops, yes," the Marshal says. "For a new army, he'd take the measure of them, the simple things. Can they pack, march, and camp without stepping on each others' toes, without waste and delay? And morale, the feel of the troops."

You ask, "Is that story true, that he would walk the camp dressed as a common soldier, learning what they felt and feared?"

"I can't speak to the truth of that, your majesty," Lord Garret says. "I had heard the story, but it would have been before I served with him. And, with pardon, your majesty, it's not the sort of question a loyal officer would ask of his commander, much less his King." Garret bows. "I can say from my service under your father the late King that he regarded the army's morale and welfare greatly, and in return, they dared and endured much in his name."

You and Lord Garret return to discussing the diplomatic, trade, and military situations of your realm, and the significance of the northeast border. More symbolic than key, but getting things well settled could help establish your reign on a note of strength. You excuse yourself to go see the King's Own Regiment, the troops who will be going with you on your Royal Progress.

As you're watching practices of passages at arms, the notion of taking the measure of your troops more personally comes back to you. You recognize one of the young soldiers. It's Pinch, a scapegrace page, a couple years older than you, who dared you to get into trouble, yet suffered your punishments on his own body, for the custom is that one does not strike the Prince. He's acquitting himself well on the practice yard.

You call Pinch to your side and walk the gardens with him, talking about your childhood together, when you come about to talking about your father being rumored to walk round his army camp in disguise to take the measure of his troops.

Pinch laughs. "Yes, your father was known for that. Open secret, really, no one would beard him to his face for it. My da served in his army, and yes, caught him at it. But you don't say anything, just play along."

"What would your Da think of you leaving Court for the army?" you ask. You don't recall him ever saying anything about a family, and you would have thought he would have been closer to gentle-born to be picked for your household. Perhaps Pinch had impressed a patron when he was quite young, or someone owed his family a favor.

He smiles. "Da said it's as he expected. But he perked up when he heard I'm for The King's Own. His old regiment. Ma is appalled of course, as with anything the least military, but that's the way she is after following Da around on campaign."

After a time hearing his stories and reminiscing, you catch him glancing at a sundial and the angle of the light.

"They expecting you back, Pinch?" you ask.

"Yes, your majesty. So unless you let me go, I'll have some explaining to do. Of course maybe you want to come along and see the barracks." He smiles. "Of course they'll put on their best face when they see you coming. If they see you coming."

You warm to the idea, wondering what your father would do.

You think upon your reply.

• Send Pinch along with your thanks and a note for his commander.
• Go along and meet The King's Own at the barracks.
• Get Pinch's help, slip your attendants and visit in disguise.
• Or?