It was a surprise when the king himself called for both Lieutenant General Viktor Bain and his colleague Lieutenant General Jackson Monash forward for promotion. As the two men stood in all their pride, Viktor offered his friend a subtle nod of congratulations. It was a great feeling that swept over him as he stared over the room, three of Viktor's sons looked on approvingly. Even his nephew Jackson smiled which was a rare thing indeed.<br/><br/>"Congratulations Marshall Bain." The king spoke softly as he shook the larger man's hand.<br/><br/>"It is a great honor you give me Your Grace, to both me and my family. I will not fail you." Viktor spoke in an easy tone that matched the king's own.<br/><br/>By way of marriage the king was his cousin. Viktor had often told his children that they were better men for it. In the Dervish lands, the high born forgot their honor. They forgot what it meant to be leaders and had become lazy and arrogant. When Viktor's father, the Baron Ludwig Bain, had offered him to the Duke of Kent he rejoiced within himself. It was a miracle in itself that Duke Jackson Morrow III accepted him however. Viktor was but a fourth born son and by rights held no true claim to anything but his name, but it would seem that the Duke saw something more within the once young man. The first years of the marriage were admittedly stressful, but within the first three years the young couple formulated a strong bond.<br/><br/>The meeting went on without much distraction. Field Marshall Weatherby went over the initial briefing and then his plan of defense. A mild feeling of anxiety crept up the newly named Field Marshall Viktor Bain's spine at the thought of facing his own countrymen, but his conviction lie in his loyalties to both his family as well as his king and country. He knew his nephews had command in portions of the Dervish military. It would be unpleasant, but they would die if they must.<br/><br/>Once the meetting was over, Viktor found himself at a wooden desk with quill in  hand writing out his thoughts. He studied the troops that were now under his command. They were indeed formidable, stronger in number than his own Corps of men. "Arthur. I require your assistance." His words were firm, but kind.<br/><br/>Arthur  was a young man, perhaps not more than two and twenty, with golden red hair that fell to his shoulders. He came into the room nearly at once. "What do you require, sir?"<br/><br/>"I require the presence of my sons Viktor and Roderick. My nephew Jacksonas well. Would you also inform Lieutenant General Laertes Pontier that I ask for his company. We leave for Kent before the week's end and I wish all of my business to be in order before the morrow." Viktor looked back toward his paperwork as his page left for his duties.