"By Styphon's Beard, those Ros-Zarthani barbarians ran down four Temple Bands of Styphon's Own Guard! They must be punished!"
Captain-General Mythross cried, punctuating his words with his fist against his saddle pommel.
Phidestros groaned. He had a massive headache and his ears were ringing from standing too close to one of the Grand Host's big guns. He was on the verge of the greatest victory in history and this Holy Butcher wanted him to punish those most responsible. Until he'd taken command of the Harphaxi Army he hadn't realized how much more there was to being a general than fighting wars and winning battles.
"I talked to Stratego Donos and he claims it was an accident. His men were counter-attacking the Hostigi left when they encountered the Guard bands and because they were wearing red the troopers mistakenly thought it was a Hostigi flank attack." Phidestros had also seen a twinkle in Donos' eye that told him that it wasn't all that much a mistake, but having dealt with the Red Hand for the past several moons he was more than a little sympathetic to the Ros-Zarthani commander.
"We must make an example of them! What if others think they can get away with dishonoring Styphon's Own Guard?"
"By the Mace of Galzar, we are in the middle of a battle! At the moment we are winning, but it could all change in the wink of an eye. If we turn on our own, like starving wolves, we may well lose the war and everything with it. How would you like to explain that to Styphon's Voice or the Inner Circle? Or better yet, Holy Investigator Roxthar!"
The usually implacable Temple Guardsman actually blanched. "I will hold my hand for now, Grand Captain-General, but there will be no guarantees if we are put on the same field again with these western barbarians." Mythross' face was beet-red and Phidestros knew he was deadly serious. He spat a wad of tobacco on the ground and rode off with his Bodyguard in a swirl of dust.
This battle was even more precarious than Mythross could know. True, the Hostigi left wing was broken and in full retreat, chased by the Ros-Zarthani horse and Soton's Knights. The center was surrounded by the Ros-Zarthani foot, Styphon's Own Guard, and the Sacred Squares of Hos-Ktemnos. However, there was no sign of the victorious Hostigi right, which had devoured the Holy Squares and the Princely cavalry of Hos-Ktemnos. At any moment fifteen thousand Hostigi cavalry could come back over the rise and all there was to stop them was his small reserve.
It might be a good time to slowly disengage the Ros-Zarthani foot, which would also keep them and the Red Hand from going at each other's jugulars, as well as give him a strategic reserve to deal with any returning Hostigi force.
Also, it might be politic to split the Ros-Zarthani off from the rest of the Grand Host after the battle and have them act as a rearguard. He didn't need his army torn apart by internal dissension. It would also help with the supply problems they would soon encounter as they chased the remnants of Kalvan's army through the false-Kingdom of Hos-Hostigos. There would be no more supply depots from here on out; they would be covering ground already foraged by Kalvan's retreating troops.
Phidestros lowered his head reflexively as the internal pounding rose in volume. By Styphon's Brass Balls, I wish I were down on that field bashing in someone else's brains, rather than making my head a battleground of thoughts.