Book 2

Chapter 1

Troubles Brewing In The North

As the spring winds howled outside and the heavy rains beat down on the roof and ground with an unrelenting fury, inside the C Company barracks the soldiers were howling with laughter and ale mugs were beating on the table as yet another green recruit shoved his coins towards the red mage and left the table in embarrassment.

Raistlin collected his winnings with a hint of a smirk, not adding to the jeers of his twin's company as he stacked the coins neatly to one side. Golden hourglass gaze went from the gold and copper coins to the steel and silver tokens, then scanned the gathering. "Would anyone else like to give it a go tonight? Or shall I pay my backers their share and leave you to your drinking?" His smirk became more provoking as he saw the last potential challenger stay silent, refusing to meet his cursed gaze, enthusiasm deflating after seeing the previous two contenders being defeated.

"Aw, heck," Scrounger's voice called out from down the table as the mage's golden hand was reaching for his tokens. "You know what? Let's have a round. I've been practicing a bit more and I think I can at least give you a run for those coins."

Raistlin snorted back a laugh and leaned to one side to address the half kender. Caramon was the one to say, however, in good-natured warning, "Scrounger, while I appreciate your pluck, I think we all know that if you're going to challenge Raist, you might as well hand over your coins now and then grab another ale."

Laughter echoed among the soldiers, but Scrounger gamely left his seat to sit across from the mage. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, I've finally got my new counter from the blacksmith after doing a bit of trading, and I might as well give it a whirl against the reigning Knight's Jump champion. Maybe a bit of his luck will rub off on it and I'll at least be able to better trounce ham-fisted lugs like you."

That teasing comment caused more laughter, not least of all from Caramon, who tweaked the half kender's spikey carrot locks as he took another long pull from the mug in his other hand.

"Luck has nothing to do with it," Raistlin said as the half kender took up his spot and batted at the bigger man's hand in annoyance. "And perhaps try less 'whirling' and more flicking."

"You know what I meant!" Scrounger said with a roll of his eyes, rifling through his pouch for his new counter and a few coins to bet. "Starting at three gold, right?"

"Plus a copper for every called trick shot the other manages to make," Raistlin confirmed.

"Sure thing!" Scrounger agreed, dropping down the entry gold and a small handful of coppers. His steel counter came out next and he held it up for the mage to see, "I think this one will be luckier than the last."

Hourglass gaze surveyed the design, and the mage couldn't help but laugh at what the half kender had commissioned, having heard about this particular stunt from Caramon a few days after it had happened. Engraved onto the disk was a rough outline of a girl child, hair gilded with a thin layer of gold, with an elven bow in one hand and an ale mug in the other, seated upon what looked like a griffon cub who had a goblin head dangling from his maw.

"So ya like it?" Scrounger asked proudly. Raistlin gave a nod, then shook his head with laughter tapering off. "I figured if the story of the rescue of the golden haired princess was enough to keep me in the army, maybe this little lady might be lucky enough to keep me in the game too."

Raistlin gestured to the cups arranged between them and said, "Well, let's see how she handles herself. Maybe you'll pull off another seeming miracle. Do you want to leave the layout as Brengar wanted, of Mishakal's Spiral, or do you want to try another?"

Scrounger opened his mouth to reply, but it was a different voice to address the mage from behind. "Red! There you are! Damnit, I've been looking all over for you."

Raistlin sighed and turned on the bench enough to look at his superior, who was standing by the door. "In case you forgot, Master Horkin, you gave me the night off. What can I help you with?"

Master Horkin's pale gaze swept over the crowd of soldiers and then he gave a jerk of his head to the hallway. "Outside in the hall, Red, not here."

Raistlin gave another sigh, saying to Scrounger, "Seems you'll have to wait to let the princess have her first ride into battle in Sir Jeffrey's honor... Tumbler, Nick, here you are." A few swift gestures sent coins sliding to their respective owners, and a sweep of a hand sent the rest of his neat pile falling into his own money pouch.

Caramon asked quietly as his twin settled his affairs, "Did you do something to get yourself in trouble with Horkin?"

Raistlin shook his head and murmured back as he grabbed his staff from where it was leaned next to him, "Not that I can think of. Probably wants me to do a few last minute tasks before the Company heads out to put down the ogre issue and he's stuck doing the menial chores for the next few weeks because Gregath didn't return this season."

"Ah. Have fun with that then," Caramon said, clearly glad he could continue his drinking with his comrades without worrying about his twin's sudden departure.

Raistlin took his leave without further comment, and Master Horkin tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for his order to be followed. Raistlin closed the door to the barracks behind him after joining his master in the hallway, and raised a snowy white eyebrow in question to his night off being interrupted.

Horkin's lips and hairless brows pulled into a full face frown and he said, nodding in the opposite direction to their own lodgings and workspace, "I just got out of a meeting with the Baron. He wants a word with you."

Raistlin's eyebrow hiked higher, with the second joining the first. "The Baron wants a word with me? At this hour? What about?"

"Best you hear it from him, Red. I'm just the messenger sent to fetch you," Horkin replied matter-of-fact. "I will say, I hope that brother of yours isn't too deep into his cups already, because you'll likely be needing to get your asses moving fairly quick once you're done talking to the Baron."

Raistlin understood the not so subtle hint and cracked open the door to call back into the barracks, "Caramon, before I forget, you've had enough to drink tonight!" His twin blinked in confusion to the sudden command as he turned towards the door. "Save yourself the hangover, put down the mug and get some rest." Raistlin paused long enough to see understanding, slow as it was, dawn on his twin's face, and then was closing the door again as Caramon responded to a few of the men teasing him for being nagged about his drinking by his twin. Hourglass gaze turned back to his master. "Is the Baron in his planning room, the officers' meeting room, or his main suite?"

"Planning room," Horkin said. "I'm going to tip a bottle back and then get some sleep, so try to keep it down when you come back in to pack."

"Of course, sir," Raistlin said. And with that, the two mages parted ways; one to enjoy the rest of his evening off, and the other to receive his latest orders.

If he and his twin weren't being kept with the rest of the company for their first contract of the season, this would hopefully be more interesting than some skirmish and cleanup of a marauding band of ogres. That was a welcome thought because, after a few such encounters, it was becoming an almost predictable task. The Baron accepted a few of the contracts a year, at a fee that was well below his usual asking for his men's services- partially as favors for the less martial neighboring lords, partially for the practicality of keeping the roadways safe for all their trading benefits, and partially as an easier training exercise for the new recruits, under C Company's supervision, when they didn't have a pressing contract to immediately strike out for at the start of the campaign season. That was all well and good for the local politics and every day safety concerns, but the warmage was about to enter his third campaign season. He wanted more of a challenge for one of his skills after being largely cooped up all winter, but finding chances to distinguish himself as a superior warmage was proving to be more difficult than he had imagined. He had the Baron's favor and confidence, and therefore his continued employment and a steady income, but it wasn't as though he was receiving offers from other commanders to hire him on at an even better rate or a missive from a more experienced warmage offering to take him on as an apprentice. His dreams of amassing a small fortune as a highly sought after warmage seemed almost as far out of reach as they had when he first joined up with the Baron's army, and it wasn't as though he'd make his fortunes and fame winning some games of Knight's Jump a few times a month.

As Raistlin made his way down the torch lit halls, he was hoping to at least placate some measure of his growing restlessness with whatever assignment was going to pull him away from a potentially tedious routing of local ogre marauders. Excursions where the best he could hope for was he might be asked to lead a few sentries into an ambush with some illusions and then wait for Caramon and the rest of the soldiers to storm the main encampment, or perhaps light a few magical fires or toss out a web spell to cut off escape routes. And even once the campaign season was in full swing, it wasn't seeming promising that it would be much better. The last time he had been given a real challenge was in Hope's End, a year and a half ago now, during his first season with the Mad Baron's army, dealing with that strange red robed warmage their erstwhile allies had employed. Last season, his role had been split between aiding in the medical tent and occasionally doing slightly more extensive routing magics than he did on skirmishes to help control battlefield conditions for their side, taking his cues from the drummers relaying the Baron's orders. Yes, it helped them win, but he wasn't exercising his own judgement nor being given room to get creative.

If he allowed himself to think on it, it would be almost depressing how boring his role was, how underutilized his talents were. He really hoped the Baron had something more challenging to offer him, that this wasn't a repeat of the last "special" assignment. He, Caramon and Scrounger had been sent out to investigate reports of large herds of animals falling ill, as the Baron had been given reports it might be sorcerous sabotage of their supply chain. As it turned out, it was a relatively simple case of an invasive foreign plant having cropped up, appearing much like some of their local berries and being overlooked by the farmers as a potential culprit because they had been able to eat it just fine. Scrounger hadn't noticed the difference either, and he picked a helmet full of the berries, which he and Caramon proceeded to start eating as the mage was inspecting some of the goats for signs of what ailed them. Being a proficient herbalist, when Raistlin rejoined them and saw the remaining berries they were gorging on, he noticed the leaves still on a few stems were slightly misshapen and the shade of purple was off. They led him to where the berries had been picked, and he quickly confirmed his suspicions as to the identity of the plant. Upon questioning the farmers whose land they were on, it was revealed that one of their neighbors had planted a few new crops they had bought the seeds for while in a port market. Speaking with that farmer revealed that, due to translation idioms, the seeds had been mislabeled as a variation of the local berry that promised to be sweeter and hardier. It was a simple matter to instruct the farmers on how to tear it out and ensure the deep sprawling roots were destroyed so they wouldn't come back and poison the animals next season.

The farmers had appreciated the aid, the offending farmer promised to be more discerning where he purchased new seeds from, and their lords appreciated their livestock being preserved from further illness. But diagnosing plant species didn't exactly get a warmage noticed, nor had it allowed him to test or expand his magical skills. If this turned out to be another berry issue, he could very well end up spending the entire return trip to the Baron's castle trying to talk himself into staying enlisted in the army, instead of just cutting his losses and returning to Solace, where he could at least do such menial work from the comfort of his own home. And he already knew what his best argument against it would be- that it would be admitting defeat, and losing the steady pay of a basic warmage, and closing the door to any chance of ever launching his career to the heights he had hoped to reach. No, even though his current employment felt underwhelming, the alternative would be infinitely worse.

Such preoccupied thoughts carried him to his destination, to one of the Baron's main offices. Raistlin found the petite commander by himself and brooding over some maps and a few missives laid before him. Before he could announce himself, the Baron said without glancing up, "Good, you're finally here, Majere. Close the door and take a seat."

"Yes, my lord."

He had hardly lowered himself to his chair when the Baron finally looked up and pushed a map at the mage. "Are you familiar with the town of Godseye, here in the Northern passes?"

Raistlin gave a perfunctory glance down at the map to confirm the town he was being asked about, a town about two days ride south-west of the city of Queen's Shield, bordering the top of the northernmost branch of the mountain range. "Not personally, sir. I know of it by reputation, mainly things Master Horkin has mentioned, but I've not had chance or cause to visit it myself."

"So you're at least aware it's a town that caters to wizards, thanks to the founding family's propensity for magic?" To the young mage's nod, the Baron said, "And have you also heard from Master Horkin that there's been a series of disappearances over the winter in Godseye?"

"No, my lord," Raistlin said, interest increasing by a few degrees.

The Baron gave a nod and then pointed to other points on the map, north of Vantal for one, and South-east of The Tooth for the other. "Horkin heard from some contacts of his about two mages up and disappearing last year, some months apart and living some two hundred miles away from one another. Didn't look like foul play, and they weren't exactly the sociable types, so neighbors thought they just moved elsewhere. But then Horkin heard about some strange things coming out of Godseye- mysterious visitors to a couple of the black robes and a red robe living there, and then those three wizards went missing within just a few days of each other. We can rule out kidnappings or killings as the likely answers. One of the missing, he apparently had a row with his wife just before he disappeared, asking her to come somewhere with him, but she wasn't liking the idea of leaving her family home and he was apparently not giving her much in the way of details of what they'd be leaving for. At least, she wasn't willing to share any potentially incriminating details with Horkin's contact. Honorable as it is for her to want to protect such a miscreant, even after such flagrant disregard for his marital vows, Horkin's friend had a feeling Madam Black Robe might know something more than she was letting on. The other two missing, they didn't have any spouses, but their next of kin or neighbors were not given much cause to suspect they'd disappear and were surprised when it happened."

"And you're wanting me to investigate these disappearances?" When the Baron gave a nod, Raistlin asked, "If Master Horkin has a rapport with some of the residents, enough to get the information we currently have, wouldn't it be more prudent to send him to investigate?"

The Baron stroked his thick black beard, debating his words, then shook his head. "Horkin is of the thought, and I'm inclined to agree, that him being well enough known in that area could be more of a liability. People there know he's a longstanding member of my army. If our suspicions are correct, these wizards are being recruited for something. What exactly, we're not sure, but if someone well known to be in my employ and loyal goes sniffing around..."

"Then whoever these mysterious potential recruiters are might scatter, or kill him on the spot, to cover their tracks."

"Precisely," the Baron agreed. "For all we know, they may have already moved on to their next targets, or gotten everyone they were hoping to recruit and have scampered off to wherever it is they call home. The last disappearance was about three weeks ago. If they're still lurking around Godseye, though, I'm hoping to find out what they're on about. And even if Horkin wasn't ambushed for just being one of my men, if there's something nefarious going on, he'd certainly be outnumbered if he tries to nip it in the bud before they can grow their numbers any further. He's a reliable mage, but something like this..."

"Has he contacted the Conclave about this?" Raistlin asked, as this was certainly something they should be made aware of, if they weren't already by other means.

"Yes," the Baron said, a hint of disdain leaking into his voice. He pulled a fresher looking missive out from under some others, and flicked it dismissively onto the map. "And they said they'd appreciate it if we could attempt to look into the matter, as their suitable agents are currently busy with other matters. That white robe who leads them, Par-Salian, is apparently aware you're with my army..."

"He asked my former school sponsor, who is an old friend of his, to help find me employment after my Test, so I would assume Antimodes informed him that I intended to follow his suggestion to seek you out."

"Yes, well, as you can see, he ended the response with the 'suggestion' we send you, as apparently you're familiar with how cults operate and he thinks you can handle this, if that's what these recruiters are about..."

Raistlin had been glancing over the Head of the Conclave's brief letter, but looked up when the Baron didn't continue. The Baron was giving him The Stare. The one that demanded his subordinates explain what a potentially controversial detail might be, lest they find out just how quickly such a seemingly unimposing man could knock them down to his size. Raistlin gave a small sigh and said mildly, "I assure you, my lord, I have never had any involvement with a cult. What Par-Salian was referencing was the incident in which I earned my right to take my Test. There was a cult operating in a small city near my home town, and their leader was someone who had first attempted to infiltrate Solace several years earlier and caused a tragedy for my family before fleeing town. So when my brother and I recognized them, I convinced our companions to aid us in exposing the charlatan and we were finally able to bring their operations to an end."

"Oh, well that sounds like quite the engaging story," the Baron said, stormy expression blowing over and replaced by an intrigued smile. "You're full of surprises, aren't you? Though I'm sorry for whatever misfortune they caused you." Speaking on the heels of the mage's obligatory, "thank you, sir," he continued. "Perhaps we'll have a chance some night for you to tell me that story. But that night is not tonight, as I'd wager that's the sort of story to be told with a cup of something strong to fortify the nerves, and we both have duties to be off to soon. Even without that Par-Salian's suggestion, Horkin and I were already of the thought that if those tower mages weren't quick or willing to respond, the odds would be better in your favor than his for investigating what's happening. Especially if you bring that twin of yours along to watch your back, and Scrounger to help you 'find' anything that might be easily overlooked..."

Raistlin held back the groan that wanted to rumble out at the thought of being on the road, for what promised to be at least a month and half's travel, with Scrounger and the half kender not having an entire Company of companions to help keep him entertained and from causing too much mischief. Useful as he was in certain types of situations, his kender side still peeped out and made him a frustrating travelling companion at times.

The Baron either didn't notice or, more likely, ignored the mage's displeased expression, continuing his instructions. "If you three can't track down whoever these recruiters are, if they've already left the area, I want you to at least talk to this abandoned wife and the neighbors, search the houses that were vacated and see if there's anything left behind that might give us any clues to where they went. I'm friendly with the lord of Queen's Shield because of trade arrangements we have, and the governor of Godseye answers to him, so I'll be sending you with a Writ of Introduction in case her guards notice you're investigating the matter and get nosy about it. Just don't go flashing it around..."

"Because then it'd give my purposes away to the recruiters, if they're still there. Yes, sir, I understand how such matters best work."

The Baron laughed at that faintly frustrated comment. "Well, I'd hope so. That's why I called you in for this meeting and am putting you as lead in the matter, not the other Majere. Your brother is a damn fine soldier, but intrigues and more delicate work aren't exactly his strong points."

"I appreciate the confidence, my lord," Raistlin said, and the sentiment was actually meant.

"Good, and I'm hoping you won't let me down on this matter," the Baron said, tone shifting to seriousness in almost the blink of an eye. "Even though we're looking into this matter as a favor and for the sake of prudence, you're going to need to step especially carefully on this one."

"How so, besides for the obvious reasons?" Raistlin asked.

The Baron tugged on his beard with a sigh. Finally, he said, "I'm sure you've heard through the grape vine that there's been rumors of an army growing in the north, somewhere in the northern ranges of the Khalkist Mountains."

Raistlin nodded in confirmation. "I have, for a few years now. But, despite the rumors, and some excess travel reportedly happening in the region, I haven't heard of this supposed army actually doing anything with the troops they've been amassing."

The Baron said with frown remaining, "Yes, you have, lad. You remember our back-stabbing allies in Hope's End, don't you?"

Raistlin's head paused mid-nod and his expression tightened in furious understanding. "They were part of that army?!"

The Mad Baron nodded. "We knew fairly quickly that something was off with them, with them being far too well trained for a supposed local militia raised to deal with a rebellion, but we weren't aware of who they really were. As I'm sure you can imagine, it's been of particular interest to me to uncover just who donned those false colors and shot my men in the back. We've had a devil of a time trying to discreetly track down that answer. Some other commanders I know, however, have had similar misfortunes popping up over the last two seasons, some of them even worse off than we were and barely making it out alive. I suspect there's been more, but those ones didn't make it out alive, and their deaths have been simply attributed to poor leadership and being a casualty of war. And there's been increased demands for trade, heading north, that coincides with an army's needs. Lord Kevan of Queen's Shield is one of the lords who has been pressured into increasing his trade with agents supposedly representing Kortal and Telvan. The men being sent behave more like bruisers than diplomats in negotiations; there's been unsubtle insinuations that if he doesn't provide the trade requested, it can be forced from him. And some of the money he's been paid with, it's not minted in the usual Khurrish fashion, even if the steel is good and coming in the timely fashion promised.

"When he tried to send envoys to King Wilhelm about the Khurs' behavior, hoping King Wilhelm would send envoys to King Brevain about his vassals' men, Lord Kevan was instead sent a missive from King Wilhelm that he was aware there was potential strain in keeping up with the demands of their Khurrish neighbors, but the trade was good for both countries and it'd be best to do what was necessary to keep up with the requests from Telvan and Kortal. Lord Kevan has quietly submitted to King Wilhelm's decision, as there's been a number of civic problems in cities all along the borders of Khur and Blode and he doesn't want the same to happen in Queen's Shield. While we're sure it's some sort of sabotages like there was to the good King Wilhelm for a time, these mercenaries being sent are very good at sneaking off into the shadows when they realize they might be caught, and covering their tracks as they leave. It seems that even if he's no longer under some direct nefarious influence, King Wilhelm wishes to avoid any further potential conflicts and loss of lives by not challenging the Khurrish requests, despite there being solid reasons to suspect the Khurs aren't making it strictly on their own behalves, but for this supposed 'Dragon Army' some have been getting coin from."

Raistlin felt as though a rock had dropped into his stomach at the direct naming of a dragon army, and asked quietly, "You've come to the conclusion, quite understandably, that it's all the work of this army in the Khalkist Mountains, working in smaller factions and under different false banners and names, and apparently with the Khur monarchy as an ally, to keep people from realizing just how influential and problematic they're becoming?"

The Baron nodded grimly. "Afraid so, Majere."

"And with that being the case, these mysterious figures contacting mages might very well be recruiters for this army, trying to bolster their ranks of warmages, and not some cult or other effort?"

The Mad Baron nodded again. "That they might be. We don't know for sure, there's admittedly plenty of other explanations for these incidents that may not lead to this so called Dragon Army. And I usually don't meddle in the matters of wizards because I'd rather not worry about some curse being sent my way for sticking my nose where it's not wanted. But under the circumstances, I want to know if this does have something to do with the Dragon Army. There's far too many abnormal occurrences happening the last two years. I don't like it, my gut tells me this isn't going to stay centralized around Khur and its borders. We're far enough south and small enough that Langtree hasn't been targeted yet, but we do have a solid port access that makes trading with the hospitable parts of the Plains of Dust and up the coast of Blode easy, and the extensive roadways that cut down to Vantal. Whoever is orchestrating this Dragon Army may be content to operate in smaller fashions and under different banners than his own for a time, but activity has been increasing and they're starting to feel comfortable enough to let things like their own coins be sent out to start asserting their own authority. If this keeps up, eventually it'd be strategic to try dragging us into these maneuvers so they can expand their efforts. And I swear to Kiri-Jolith, I don't plan to play along if that happens, regardless of what King Wilhelm says. Not after what those bastards already did to my men. Nothing good will come from enabling bad faith actors to spread their influence. So I need to know who and what we're truly dealing with, wherever I can get the information from."

"Ariakas, my lord," Raistlin said as stoically as he could manage, with a growing sense of dread he couldn't full name. To the Baron's questioning look, he cleared his throat and continued uneasily, knowing this was information too important to keep to himself under the circumstances. "I haven't heard enough to know if he's in charge of the entire army, or just one major faction of it, but before I left Solace, a mercenary by the name of Balif came through and recruited someone I knew. Supposedly for an army in the far north, in the name of a man he called 'Lord Ariakas'. That person was given a small sack of steel coins, some of which were stamped with an image of the dragon goddess, and wanted my brother and I, as well as a friend of ours, to head north with them and see what this Ariakas was about. I thought it sounded shady, so did Caramon, and I was still a student with no intentions to leave my studies prematurely, so we refused. I haven't heard anything from them since, but I'd wager they went north as planned to seek their employment there. From the sounds of what you've told me, the army they were recruited for is one and the same with this Dragon Army. And if that's the case, we should be concerned because their efforts to recruit aren't primarily localized to Khur and Northern Blode, they've been searching for talent for at least four years from all over Ansalon."

The Mad Baron stared at the young mage for several long seconds in surprise, then heaved a sigh that seemed to ripple up from his tall shiny boots to the wide brim of his favorite hat. "Would you care to tell me who it was they recruited, and why they might have been? And why they tried to enlist you and your brother to go with them?"

Raistlin almost wanted to defer on that request, out of instinct to protect his family. But she had made her choices, and it wasn't as though he was pitting the Baron and himself directly against her. For all he knew, Kit's short temper could have gotten herself into trouble somewhere along that long journey and ended up with a knife to the heart or a slashed throat while sleeping in some sleazy tavern. If he refused to tell the Baron, especially after having already revealed what he had, it could easily be taken as a sign of disloyalty and jeopardize their employment.

The warmage sighed, then said levelly, "It was my elder half sister, Kitiara, who is an accomplished sword fighter thanks to lessons she had from her father, who had been a knight. She left home when my twin and I were children, to try seeking out her father's family in Solamnia. While she wasn't able to find her father's family, she came back quite the experienced mercenary who stood out because she is a woman of such talents. She wanted us to join her, make it a family profession. As is obvious from our employment with you, we were interested in a martial life, but my sister's contacts and some of her evasive behavior about it all made us extremely uncomfortable and we felt it best to go our own way. And as I said, we haven't had contact with Kit since we went our separate ways. I don't know if she made it to the army or not, nor if she would have stayed with them or decided she preferred her freelance lifestyle. She's always been the wild card in the family."

"I see..." The Baron tugged on his beard again, then said, "Well, Majere, thank Kiri-Jolith that you were prudent enough to realize something was wrong with the offer and didn't take it. I'd be without one of my two best mages, and one of my best soldiers, if you had."

"Thank you, my lord," Raistlin said with an attempt at smile, relieved that his employer wouldn't be calling their loyalties into question. "To be frank, the more I hear about the army to the north, the more I am glad we made the decision we did."

The Baron nodded and after a few seconds he poured them both a glass of wine to refresh themselves, and asked as he passed the mage one, "Anything else you might have heard about this army, that might not have seemed to have cause to mention?"

"No, sir," Raistlin said with a shake of his head. "That was a passing incident nearly four years ago, and I haven't had much cause to think on it before now. The rest of the rumors I've heard have been things my brother's Company brings back with them that they've heard while on winter sabbatical, or hear from other soldiers in passing when we're in the field. They've just heard the same vague rumors of an army in the north, and the unrest sprouting up here and there. There was no mention of strange coins being passed around or dragon iconography being invoked."

The Baron nodded and, satisfied he had any new necessary details to be had, turned the conversation back to the mission at hand. Over the next half an hour he gave his remaining instructions for the trio's reconnaissance mission, details of what travel accommodations they were being allotted, and some bits of helpful information about the area as it would be their first time that far north into Blode and the local politics were understandably strained.

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A/N: Yay! This chapter flowed from brain to fingertips so much easier! *happy dance*

Deku- I'm glad you appreciated the chapter, even if you still hate Rhuadhán. I'm 100% good with that, lol! I hope you'll enjoy a little side journey with Raist, Caramon, and Scrounger before we get back to Earth. It always bothered me that so little explanation was given for how the Dragonarmies managed to stay under the radar for so long, why there wasn't more effort to stop them early, so we're exploring a bit of that because it plays into plot ideas I have for this story.

I'm off to work on the next chapter, which I'm hoping will flow about as quickly as this one did.