Chapter 3: Mustered Body

Early Autumn, Near the Fortress City of Ken

We've arrived on a timely manner on the eighth day of our journey. Many of us had eyes wider than that of a fish upon seeing the ancient city in the distance. Tales from pastors and wandering clerics did little to actually encapsulate just how grand it really was. Even from a distance, the sight of its curtain walls and ancient square towers were undoubtedly formidable.

Not one Eostian soul hasn't grown up ignorant to what a Fortress City was. In a different time, they were the grand constructs intended to lay siege to the enemies of all things Pure and Good. However, those were but an age ago, and now most stand as a testament to our continued defiance of the Vile-things.

A defiance that -forgive me for saying this- seems to be less burgeoning with every year.

No, I shouldn't be thinking of it that way. Better to not let her vitiated spirit get to me.

Speaking of which, it didn't pass the rest of us that our marshal had become bereft of good humour the more we neared to the capital. While it wasn't like she was pugnacious when confronted, it spoke in her mute songs she played at night. Those that were confined to select tunes and heavy for the heart. I think it got to even the Ald Fellers, as it was one of they who began suggesting songs for her to sing some two days back.

Aside from this peculiarity, I can't say that the rest of our journey was that eventful. We'd stopped about a day's away and in full view of the walls so that we could compose ourselves and do what tidying needs to be done. Blades were sharped and given shine, dresses were cleaned and replaced, and, in an almost surprising sight, we saw our commander wearing full regalia more befitting royalty than a warlord.

The diadem was the thing that befuddled me. Its features were elongated and, at times, serrated at the top and became rounded at the bottom. An archer remarked how much they resembled thorned vines above and overlapping roots below to which I agreed in silence. Never had this been mentioned by anyone, but sure seemed that no one -not even those serving the quartermaster- seemed keen on answering.

Other than that, there was also a cape, but that seemed more within expectations earnestly. Despite having joined the Host for a year now, I never did come around to answering just why the standard was that of a willow tree. In a time where most chose a more intimidating image such as weapons, beasts or plain shapes, the tree certainly stood out but more so that it didn't give off a fierce aura. Again, I'm missing a story behind here and so too are the rest.

Anyhow, the time to march has come. My heart hammers loud and I can feel the unsatiated urge to relieve myself growing with every moment.

….

Damn woman! I add this in haste, but a call for caution? Here? This close to the city? Madness….

It was exactly as she remembered it.

Thinking back, when exactly was the last time she'd been under the shadow of those massive marbles? Six, seven? The years seem to go so far back now.

Amidst the sound of horse clopping, the sounds of many other things were growing louder. Arguments, complaints, praises, singing and a strong mix of many chaotic voices made harmonious by happenstance. Wind blew and washed over the high walls like a tidal wave of the sea, though invisible to the naked eye.

A clearing stretching many kilometres in all directions. As they approached, however, it became clear there were more structures out dotting the countryside. Mostly, these rural settlements served to till the lands around Ken, feeding the those who worked and lived there. Yet, one look with a keen eye was all it took to realise the tallest structures weren't windmills or grain silos but watchtowers.

Almost unknowingly, she found her eyes drifting left and right. The years had seen her travelling to many places. She'd seen the strongholds to the West many times by this point, and the similarities to what she saw there and here were all too alike. Well, aside from a number of distinct properties.

"Y'know, I never get tired of all the looks we get when visiting cities," someone spoke up from behind.

"Here we go, Neal coming down with the cravings," another bemoaned.

"Pfft, your just diffident to the crowd."

"Don't know what that means, but I'll be sure to let you know if I find the opposite of that, utter man-whore."

"Would you two keep it tight," another, closer voice hissed. "Seriously, just how in hells you got on the guard detail."

Up front, Lorraine simply smiled to herself. Never would she admit openly the kind of welcome tremble in her heart hearing the day-to-day banters of the men.

"….Hey, notice something?" a different voice this time spoke up.

"What's that?" one of the earlier voices asked.

"How come there aren't any burgs out 'ere?

"What are ya saying now, Benji? Why in faen would there be entire towns this close to a damn fortress?"

"I think he means to ask just why there aren't any walls around these buildings we see," she interjected.

All was silent, save for the surroundings. Turning around, she regarded the eight armed men on horseback that were following her, or rather, she did her best to catch all of them in her periphery considering she didn't have the option of ignoring her front.

"Ken doesn't have those since it's farmland is rather new," she continued. "Mayhaps, two, maybe three generations at most. Still remember when it was just dirt patches as far as eye can see."

"How'd you know this, ma'am" she heard Benji's query.

"Oh, travels of course. It's good to have wide knowledge if you wanna lead a warband."

As if taking it as a cue, someone else spoke up. "I know it's not something you wish to hear madam, but I really gotta ask. What can we expect entering the fortress? It'd be really nice if you'd share som' details."

It was a good thing she managed to turn just slightly so that the men behind her wouldn't see the cold, strait-laced stare that froze over her features. Licking the inner side of her cheeks, she pondered a moment before answering.

"Just… try and keep to yourself as best as you can. Ken is a holy place with a people that think themselves equally as holy. I mean that as in just one bad move could have you focused on by a mob. Thankfully, the sheer number of people here as it seems would keep the usual suspects at bay."

It wasn't really a good answer. However, the time of chatter had ended. Ken now loomed over them. Triple that of the average castle wall, the numerous towers were matched by there being numerous other defences, some hidden others well within sight. However, there was one other element in play that took centre stage.

Those being the massive banners stretched over the parapets. Herald of The Goddess Incarnate, a flower crown of White Lilies and at the centre was a symbol consisting of two squares over lapping with one diagonally on top of the other. A single green jewel lay at the centre of the heraldry, almost inapposite to the white background.

"Halt!"

Snapping out of her appraisal, she looked to the source. There, standing aways in front of her were a contingent of men. Ken's garrison, so it would seem, and they appeared in numbers aplenty. A quick glance, and she noted there had to be three dozen or so. While perhaps only half of that were seen along with two horsemen, she wasn't about to disregard the archers no doubt hiding or simply being out-of-sight.

Now, the one who called her approached. Perhaps on the more rounded side, this was betrayed by a scarred face hidden behind a thick moustache. His frame covered by a brigandine with pauldrons, arm guards, and shin guards overlapping knee-high boots. A sword dangled around his waist, flailing almost like a tail.

His rounded head covered by a padded coif; it took away a small part of her to keep herself composed.

"Your business," he exclaimed.

"I'm brought here by summons," she answered, withdrawing and pulling out in a supple motion the letter. "Her Grace, the Incarnate calls and her wills must be done."

The portly man didn't even bother to grab the thing, though he seemed to stare at it rather extensively. Lorraine didn't miss the brief spark on the wax seal and inferred that as a signal because the guard then took two steps back.

"Alright, get going!" he waved. "You're going to be late as is. Go on now!"

"Be graced, kindred."

With that, they were bidden to pass quickly through to allow the next procession to be inspected. As they passed through the massive gates that led into the fortress proper.

Ken was a city of worship.

It's walls, its buildings, the public utilities and even down to the citizenry were all adorned with sacral. No face nor edge was without some form of carving depicting the Goddess or more than likely one of her incarnations. From the rottenest wood to the most recent stone construct, a feminine figure in robes that left little to the imagination, each was there in some manner of poise. Only the streets seemed abstained, but these instead were replaced with the care taken to maintaining them, so much so that a few could walk on its face without fear of harm to their soles.

The people, too, embodied the woman the city's beliefs were centred around. Many wore robes or loose tunics. It was to the point of being scanty, especially with the woman. Many wore clothes that revealed their pale, full chests and without sleeves. A good number had tunics that seemed to barely pass the waist and looked ready to fly at so much as a breeze.

Yet, in contrast, there were also those in more decent clothing but whose forms were shrivelled, and clothes stained or of darker colour. Ironically, these were more decently dressed, not that there was much to look at given the gaunt physique which contrasted the more rounded and, in some cases, voluptuous physique.

Aside from these peculiarities, there was also the air that smelled of incense and strong fragrance. Plants, many of which were striking in how bright and pale their flowers were, also grew and snaked their way up the many buildings. Some were vines, other were creepers, all seemed to sprawl over the many domiciles and architecture.

The caravan journeyed across the main street and onward into the middle ring of the fortress. None were willing to talk, absorbed as they were at the sights around them. Fortunately, the men weren't given much time to gawk as their leader pulled them onward until they reached their destination. A public square filled with more 'normal' looking folks.

With a gesture of hand, an order was passed down to enable the convoy to grind to a halt. The square may have been crowded, but special staff were present specifically to attend to the new arrivals, or more accurately, the latest batch. It would be within the hour before Lorraine had a chance to gather the man-at-arms for a last-minute discussion.

"Alright, before I be off, does everyone here still remember the rules set forth?"

The eight gathered men looked at each other before turning to their leader.

"Uhm, can you enlighten us again, madam?" asked one of them, Trey, if she remembered.

Her lips twitched upwards. "One, make sure no one too far wanders away, especially on their lonesome. Double so, for you lot since you're in the van whilst I'm gone. Two, if you really do wish to go out, then do so in groups of three."

She explained these things with a gesture of fingers.

"Three," she continued. "Don't go buying about, yet. I know some of you wish to bring something for the folks back at the settlement but believe me when I say most of what you'll find here is worthless. Fourth rule is special, because it is solely for those of you who'll be in charge while I'm gone. Namely, you have to watch over EVERYONE and make sure they abide by the previous three. Any questions?"

One of them raised their hands.

"Yes, Benji?"

"Can we at least have lunch around 'ere? I saw some really nice looking porks and hams a few places bac-"

A wild hand seemed to appear just to smack the back of the youth's head. The poor lad was left confused as to where the blow came from.

"You and your eating, boy. For goddess damn sakes, can you at least keep it in for a little longer."

"B-but, I hardly had much for breakfast."

"You-"

"Ease off, Harold," Lorraine interjected. "Benji, the supply corps will be preparing the meals soon. Just hold off until then."

"But… the ham," he tried arguing.

"No, follow my orders Benji," she doubled down.

The young man-at-arms went quite at that. In turn, someone else spoke up.

"Aside from that, any other important questions?"

Before anyone could ask, there was a sudden commotion from the crowd. All eyes turned to see the origin.

There, coming out from one of the many inns were a group of men in simple tunics and harnesses. A chaotic bunch, but more importantly they clearly drunk and eager to cause more racket. What drew the attention of the company, however, was the herald on the patches they wore.

Black Dogs.

"What in faen are those mutts doing 'ere?" Harold growled.

"Same reason I am."

The older man snapped to her. "What?"

"There is a realm wide summon for almost all mercenary and free companies to come to Ken. The only reason you aren't seeing this place flooded with foreigners is because most are probably under orders to not avoid mingling until after the talks."

"And you're only saying this, now?" he eyed his leader.

"I'm only saying because nobody asked in detail. I've been truthful about the part that it was an important summon, haven't I?"

Harold looked ready to say something but was soon interrupted by Neal who faked a cough and got in-between the two.

"Well, while this is all certainly interesting. I do think that you need to be going right, yes milady?"

The principal of the company tilted her head at the man's discretion but remained impassive. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath before speaking once more.

"Right, thanks for the reminder, Neal. Anyways, Fionn and Owen, you're with me. Keep those lances high and proud, and don't speak no matter who approaches you. If they insist, have them refer to me directly."

The two men in question stood straighter at being called. Both were well aware of the hushed whispering amongst their fellows at the knowledge of where they will certainly be going.

Without another word, Lorraine turned around sharply and began brisk walking towards the citadel which loomed in the distance. Both men had only a moment to register before they began to jog after their superior. All three would eventually merge with the crowds. The only thing visible being the pennons that hung on the edge of both their lances.

It was a testament to how large Ken was that it took an hour to reach the Undyed Citadel, even with their leader's adept navigation through the streets.

Reaching the grand structure was one task, but there then came the labour of walking up the Grand Staircase. By the halfway point, the two guards were struggling hard to maintain controlled breathing. An added three steps later, and they were had begun leaning on their polearms for supports.

"Crikes, what…. In hells is this? Some form of penitence….," Owen squeezed in between breaths.

"Oh, come now men. Keep it together, we must hurry if we're to reach the meeting on time," urged Lorraine a few steps above them.

"Easy for you, lady. We're horse riders, not mountain men. Next time, just get that nyaff Ser Analach to follow you here," grumbled Fionn.

"And risk him earning us a declaration of war for his noisome? Ha! I'll pass," she waved and continued walking, much to the cursing of the men.

By the time they made up the last steps, bells across the city were ringing to signal noon. Lorraine had mercy for the two men and gave them each a moment to recollect themselves and drink from their wineskins. All three enjoyed a comfortable silence sitting on the steps whilst staring out to the spectacular view of the city.

"Woah," Owen breathed.

"It's a grand sight, alright."

"No kidding, lady. You could see out all the way to the edge of the forest from up here."

"It goes further than that," Fionn joined. "See there, that brown mound? I think that's Kenward."

"What? Where? Can't see it."

"Tough luck, then. Going senile early, I see."

"Gread leat, smart mouth."

"Hush you two," Lorraine chastised, albeit clearly amused. "Ahead is the meeting, let's keep it decorous, shall we?"

"Yes, ma'am," both said in unison.

Resuming their journey, they passed through the portal leading deeper into the giant citadel. However, passing stone archways one after another soon gave way to a strange feeling nausea for the two men. Overhead, there were bridges and parapets which would imply many floors above them. Yet, a simple look up proved difficult especially since it would seem as if the many floors stretched far into the sky above them.

Flanking their path were turns that led into other hallways. It would seem they were in a network of endless crosswalks that went as far as the eye can see. Occasionally, a person could be seen walking in any one direction, but the two men were too disoriented as was to pay too much attention to these figures.

"Geez, you think they would've had a map for this place ever so often," came the whispered comment from Owen.

"Forget that, just where the hells are all the guards or servants in this place," Fionn joined.

Lorraine, who continued leading onward, didn't answer. Though, it was either of the two's guess if she'd heard it. They only had her to put their confidence in; evident in that she seemed to continue her walk without pause with only the occasional stop to lean and check in case anyone was approaching their way.

Eventually, the endless corridors and hallways broke out into a massive atrium. Light shone down from the top and illuminated the gardens. Whether it was a trick or magic, both men were awed in seeing mist that came in thick clouds that nearly blanketed the ground. But more importantly, there were people here.

The Templars of the Goddess.

They were as the stories told of them. All of those standing were in a strange steel dress that left little to the imagination. Swords sheathed, they stood guard with shields and spears. More than a dozen were standing guard all across the atrium. The bulk of which were gathered around a doorway at the far end of the room opposite theirs.

"Stop," one of them said in a frigid voice. "Reveal yourself?"

"Just an attendee late to the meeting. I apologise but I ask that you do make this quick."

Both men behind her turned to look at their superior wide-eyed. Terror-stricken at the lack of humility being shown and a contradictory to the earlier orders. Looking back at the Templar who spoke, they noticed the brunette was approaching them with a look that could only be described as an inch from violence.

Soft clicking of heels filled the air as the holy warrioress stepped close and in front of the battle maiden. From where they stood to the side, both men could see that the two women stood almost the same height and seemed to be eyeing one another.

"Your invitation, madam."

Yanking it out from between her belt and pants, Lorraine handed the parchment into an awaiting palm. The Templar then looked at the rolled parchment, noting the seal which flared when inspected. She then opened it and began reading the contents.

A long, tense wait followed.

Silence in the air. Moisture absorbed from the air made the attire of the tow man-at-arms feel heavy. Both stole glances at one another and kept the grips on their lances tight.

"Don't even think of laying a finger on that hilt, man," came the unexpectant warning from the brunette.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that," Lorraine calmly apologised.

"Not you," the Templar looked up, features cast in a cold stare. "That man behind you."

Every inch of both their bodies froze up. Their minds raced to process what was transpiring. Eventually, Owen braved himself to check his limb only to find confusion upon seeing that it was still at its place by his side, completely still.

The same couldn't be said for his fellow man, though. A glance to his right, and sure enough, Fionn gulped upon noticing how his limb betrayed him. That, in his unease, his hand drifted to the weapon in his holster; a simple short sword carried by all men-at-arms.

Owen wasn't the only who'd look.

Turning around, the maiden spoke. "He's doing his job. My orders. Pray tell, how much longer do you intend to keep me here."

Brown eyes met green, clearly displeased. "Quiet, apostate. Speak like that again, and I'll have you pin cushioned where you stand."

"Oh, do try. I'd love to see you explain to her Holiness just why one of her personally invited guests lies dead within her own demesne," sneered the auburn-haired woman.

Pressure in the room tightened. Fear ate away at both men, yet their feet would not carry them in flight. One began to silently pray whilst the other took to raising his chin and tried maintaining a strong look.

They heard, just barely, a crunching sound and metal creaking. Then, a loud smack that sounded an awfully lot like a slap.

…..

Yet, pain and death never came.

"Get in there, and begone from my sight. You better leave through the main entrance. Lest, I have to write a report for a confirmed killed intruder."

"Oh, why thank you, sister. Sorry to say that I couldn't alleviate your boredom with an extra paper for your week."

"Putain, get going before I change my mind."

"And a nice verpiss dich to you too."

Lorraine stepped aside and moved pass the clearly agitated guardswoman. Her two subordinates quickly followed behind, but they failed to look away from the hellion made flesh. Unfortunately, this also extended to the rest of the guards in the room. Enough experience from the field told them that they were in a space where killing seemed very appealing at the moment.

Entering the next chamber was like stepping from winter to summer.

What first greeted them was more armed figure. Albeit, these weren't the alluring Templars, but rugged, hard-faced fighters. Those closest to the doors had turned to glance at them. However, their attention faded almost as soon it began, and those eyes returned to the previous direction they'd been facing.

Lorraine didn't speak a word. She merely nudged with her head and uttered wordlessly to stay close.

She and her men found themselves packed close and cramped together in the gargantuan audience chamber. It was packed with people from all walks of life; fighting kin took up the ground floor, but above on the mezzanines and even another level above that were undoubtedly populated by the noble born.

All held some manner of heraldry or marker that stood out even within the confined spaces. At that moment, the two men-at-arms began to stand straighter ever so slightly, but not in fear of premature demise like before. Rather, a deep compulsion that could be described as needing to uphold their devotion. For as minute as the effort may seem, the act of keeping the pennons flying high and proud was a testament to their devotion.

For her part, the battle maiden kept her attention at front and center. There standing in all her deific grace, and flanked by her direct vassals was Celestine, the current Goddess Incarnate. She apparently was in the middle of presenting the central idea of her speech.

"….. I gather you here today to tell you. That this war. This cruel, neigh eternal conflict, may yet at last have a resolution. As of now, the time has come to assault the Dark Fortress that has ruled the north. Now is that time, and I assure you, my friends, we will be victorious!"

…..

What was once a drab, soporific atmosphere erupted into a cacophony of stentorian roars from noble to sellsword as the assembly vibrantly aired their response to the claim. The sharp turn in ambience was enough to make both Owen and Fionn shrink. They would've perhaps buckled had it not been for a hand reaching out to hold each of their own respective free hands and giving each men a reassuring movement before letting go.

"Out of the question! This close to winter! What'll be of our lands?"

"You're insane if you think of ordering us to head up that waste!"

"You can't pay us in gold, or whores for going there!"

"Outrage! There will be outrage if we leave our lands now! Do you know just how many demons we'd had to hack this month alone!"

"SILENCE!" a loud, ringing scream reverberated the chamber. The waves almost were quick to die down.

The Grandmaster of the Templars, Claudia Levantine, stood sneering and fuming at the crowd of supposed nobles and jaded warriors. Both hands rested on the blade to her side, and her posture bend in prep to throw herself forwards. That never came as a pale hand reached out to slowly tug at her left pauldron. She shared looks with the High Queen, before returning to a formal stance.

"I understand if all of you have your misgivings of launching a campaign into the Arid. However, the reason you all are gathered here is not mine, but on a request of another."

Lorraine's eyes narrowed upon hearing this. Whispers broke amongst those gathered. For the maiden, however, they were drowned out by the hammering in heart.

It hammered harder upon seeing the worst prognosis possible walk up onto the dais.

He was clad in his usual attire of thick leather and robes, complemented by mismatched armour and his trusted greatsword. More importantly, was the red painted pauldron with a dog's head on it.

"May I present to you, Vault of the Black Dogs."

Now it was Lorraine's turn to be betrayed by her hand as it slowly inched towards the hilt by her side. Albeit, she had the crowd to keep her subtle movement obscured, not that anyone would've paid attention anyways.

A glance up told her that a similar, but watered-down displeasure was shared amongst some of the highborns. Certainly not for the same reasons, of course, but she took some elation from.

"Alright, hello, you all," greeted the ugly mug of a man. "I know that many of you don't like having me. So, I'll try and make this quick and crispy for you lot."

He gestured to the High Elf. "With confirmation of Lady Lucross, my mages have found a small, but possible path through the Arid that can lead us straight to the Dark Fortress. Sure as faen it ain't safe or a clean walk, but with prep and timing it's doable. I know many of you probably have other business to attend to, which is why I've opted to go ahead and get a head start on your lord."

More murmurs and even grumbling sounded.

"Since last summer, my boys have been hard at work in establishing a supply network that'll lead to the Fortress. It's only about halfway done as of now. However, we sure as shit could get it done a lot faster, if some of you join us to keep the ugly pigs from sacking the lines. If all goes well, we can start a siege by spring."

A hand was raised from the crowd on the mezzanine.

"Yeah, pot head, what's up?"

"What about the winter? How are you suppose to keep the men up north supplied? The snow will freeze every road in the south, and not even the demons would dare to raid if this year ends up having another Frost Storm."

"Good point, and the simple solution would be to obviously hunker down for the period. Mind you, the real fighting begins in spring, and not before that. In the meantime, getting to the fortress is more important. We have the time still, so the priority is building a sizeable enough garrison in each post on the path to outlast the snow."

"But a force that size would require an impressive store on its own," someone else pointed out.

"Not if they're dug in well enough. We can cut the number of troops with stone and hard wood."

Points upon points were traded, but as it seemed a significant portion of the assembly was still unconvinced.

"My lands are struggling to get by as is."

"You know of that raid that destroyed Greenoak? The town after that fell as well. Ours could be next."

"Ain't shit I'm convincing my men to go on that trip. Have 'nough trying to not get slit in my sleep as is."

Seeing the apparent growing dissent, there was a change in the mercenary leader's face. His already fugly appearance seemed to grow more horrendous at hearing the lack of enthusiasm from those present.

Raising his boot just a small span above ground, he then brought it down.

SLAM!

For its height, the impact was far louder than it should've been. Lorraine swore that the space shook by a small fraction.

"Hey, come on! The hells are ya balls! Can't you see that this is your chance?! If not for the best fame and gold, then a chance to actually be free of this plague. Free to choose where and when you wanna go hunting. Free to make earning or any kind of bounty that doesn't involved getting shanked up yer ass, literally or otherwise. If not, then at the very least, you won't even have to deal with the nightmare of demons everyday."

The long rant caught everyone off guard. The mercenary was breathing hard, muscles coiled and posture looking like he was about to wrestle a beast with his bare hands. Lorraine had her hand on the hilt fully now, with the steel blade peeking just barely out of the hilt. She wasn't alone.

But before the situation could worsen, Celestine raised both her hands. One in front of Vault, and the other to the crowd. Her face was an exact opposite of Vault's, calm, impassionate but full of that motherly gaze she was known for.

"Be at ease, my children. While the words of Vault could certainly have been conveyed better. As it stands, he speaks truth. People of far and near, please listen well. Our current situation is indeed dire. I understand what you all have been going through these past few months and I know that many of you wish to take the coming winter to rest and recuperate. Alas, the scourge of demons will only grow worse with each passing year. Even now, we lose more people each day, whether it be fathers, sons, daughters and mothers. Our fields are barren, our homes are hollow, and what more so the roads and coffers?"

All remained silent at the lady's support.

"Right now, I ask of you…. No, I beseech you. Please, consider this opportunity. Think of the good it will bring for us all. What hope do we have left, but to take this one last chance to gain true freedom and peace for now, and many more generations to come."

"…."

Lorraine had to end it to the woman. It certainly was a moving speech, especially since it got the room to not erupt in another uproar. She eyed Vault and noted his stone-faced expression with both arms crossed. She eyed the vassals of the High Queen, some she noticed were just as stern, while others were had an almost pleading look.

In the end, someone spoke up.

"…If we're really going to do this, then how much are you paying?"

All turned to the voice. The mercenary who spoke up didn't look all too different, with a battered brigandine and flat top helm. The man had a bushy moustache that did well to conceal his weathered and scared features.

Vault cleared his throat, a smirk appearing on his face. "Depends, just how involved you wanna be in this?"

"I have a company of yeoman who've seen their homes burnt and their families defiled. Day in, day out, we work our blades to cull every pig and bull that appears north of the Sárú Path and east of Garvin's Feld. We have horses and plenty of experience in mounted archery. We'll trade our craft for guarantees."

"Fine then," widened the mercenary's smile, "Eight hundred gold, if you stay until the end of winter in the Arid. Say you?"

All eyes widened at the reward offered. Not even Celestine and her entourage were exempt, as the High Elf was already in motion to object.

"Now, settle down, I ain't finished," defended the sellsword. "I say that, but this is eight hundred gold for the company, not the individual. Afterall, any postings in the Arid is sure going to be a messed-up experience. I can't imagine anything short of a hefty sum being given to help rebuild your forces post-task, yeah?"

'Bastard of a job!' Lorraine gritted her teeth. Already, she could see as the mercenary captain who'd offered his services having brilliance in his eyes. One look around the room and she knew that the rest of these hogs in human skin salivating over the prize.

"Ma'am, your grip," someone whispered behind her.

She blinked and suddenly remembered the hilt she'd been holding. Snapping her head downwards, she watched as it slid back into the sheathe as if it had a mind of its own. Wisely, she forced both hands away from the armaments, and mouthed a mute 'thank you' to her men.

"A most interesting offer, Vault. But don't think you'll win over the rest of us with your spell of coin. What say you now?"

The one who spoke was a duke. His heraldry draped around him like a cape. The man's wrinkled face spoke less of hardship and more of improper care, and there was also the oily beard.

A different smile appeared; this time directed at the duke. "Well, it's good you should mention that. 'Cus once this is over, there's gonna be a lot of land to be grabbed that once belonged to the Dark Queen."

"If you think I'll be satiated inheriting a dust basin full of aberrates than perhaps it is you who should have it instead. I figure dogs like you fit in those ugly, savage lands better than I or my kin here."

A loud roar erupted in the upper floors, and it took effort to keep her own smile down. For his part, Vault's twitch was the only give away he was in any way effected by the verbal slap.

"Once we take the Tower of Dark, it's a step closer to hopefully restoring the Arid. Beyond that, is the Forest of Noctua Silva. Ancestral home of the Dark Elves."

A sinking feeling permitted into Lorraine's chest. A cold in the room that was not there before seeped into the gaps of her clothes. The warrioress didn't dare looking up nor around for fear of what she might find on another's face.

Now, the idea of pulling her blade seemed to be an all the more comforting act.

"….. I will discuss this with my colleagues. Perhaps, there may be yet of use to this… brazen venture," she heard the duke speak.

"And I can't expect anything else, good sir," replied the mercenary with a respectful bow. "Right, I think that's about enough attention I've had for a day. To you, Your Grace."

With a respectful gesture and a half-bow, Vault gave the stage to Celestine, who looked to have faired no better at the flagitious offer the mercenary had proposed.

"Thank you….. Vault, for the effort in reaching a more agreeable term in this debacle. For now, to all those present, this marks the end of our meeting. Any of those interested can visit either my aide, Claudia or Vault sometime tomorrow in order to learn more details of this upcoming campaign. And before I forget, as we have more visitors here than we usually do, the markets of Ken are holding a festive for an entire week. All are welcomed to visit whilst here."

And just like that, the meeting ended. Any and all compounded pressure seemed to vanish altogether. Behind them, the large set of arched doors were swung open by the Templar sentinels at station. No one wasted time in leaving, even the nobles filed out through connecting hallways on the upper levels.

Lorraine took a good measure by grabbing the hands of both her men once again and leading them out to the grand staircase they had come through in before.

"Hurensohn, just how much longer are we going to wait here?"

"Foighne, she'll be here soon."

"Who's willing to bet their next pay that she's only keeping us here so that she could browse through the wares on her own?"

"How smart of her, and I wonder how she'll do that when all her gold was left with in the wagon her men are guarding."

All of the footman who had been mingling about turned their heads towards a familiar figure approaching from the direction of the citadel. In tow, were the same two man-at-arms that had accompanied her earlier that day.

"Ma'am, please to see you again. Everything is in order!" one of the three veterans stated, accompanied by a chest salute the rest copied.

"At ease," she nodded, before noticing something. "Where's Harold?"

"The man-at-arm? He and another had to follow this damischer out 'cause he wanted to take a shit."

"I see," she pinched rubbed her eyes with one hand. "And the rest?"

"Something about doing a patrol of the square."

"Of course," she said, full of wit. "Does this patrol include drawing as much attention from the local damsel populace?"

None present had any answer.

Seemingly at random, the principal clapped her hands. "Aside that, all of you, do stand in lines, now."

The gentle tone belied the stern command given. Those present within earshot were quick to form a line whilst others further away followed suit.

"You two, go and get some rest," said Lorraine to her two escorts. Wordlessly, they broke off, and, as they passed the line, none missed the haggard, hollowed cheeks each men had or how they walked with their lances for support.

A few gulped at the idea of what might be coming.

"Turn around."

All present spun on their heels. Some of the inhabitants present began taking not of the display, and the mercenaries that were present in the square, too, snickered at the sight of the men 'playing soldier'.

Lorraine ignored these witty remarks as she walked to the front of the assembled men. Behind her, the second wagon in the caravan. The diadem she wore before was no where to be seen, presumably kept away.

"Men, let me be clear. I give you my thanks, not just for your continued service, but for all the things we've gone through thus far. The most recent battle… was frankly enough, far above what the company usually gets involved in. As such, I've taken it upon me, through Ser Gilroy to pick those among you who performed far above the what's expected of you."

From a pouch, she pulled out a rolled-up parchment and untied the knot holding it.

"Reginald of Urgardis, step forth."

Bewildered, but still maintaining discipline. The soldier obeyed and exited formation to stand before her.

"Word has it you and your friends rescued a standard bearer from being hacked to pieces. It may not sound like much, but just so you know, you save a lot of men the trouble of reaching a rally that day."

She handed him a pouch. The footman played with its shape and noted the weight, before giving an appreciative nod and 'thank you.' As he returned to the line, Lorraine called up the next name.

"Breck of Horasfeld," she called.

This continued until all the assembled had collected their rewards. All except one.

"Geoffrey Charlton-Perrin," at his name being called, he stepped out and walked to his master.

Let it be known, that at first glance, most who meet her would recognise her as a woman first and warrior after. However, the gap between the two was almost nil, and it showed even now as she wore her leadership.

"Your eyes speak of an unpleasant experience," she assessed in a hushed tone. "I can see the lack of vigour in them."

The footman had no words to say on the matter.

"If you wish to leave, make it known. I will not judge any less for it. I'm sure you know the procedure to be done, yes?"

"That won't be necessary, I'm set to stay here for a long while," he replied in an equally low voice.

"As you wish," he barely made out the twitch of her lips. "Since we're here, I'll show you to a herbalist later who knows some remedies to ease the pain on that head wound. Should also be where you can get something to help sleep at night."

He flinched both inside and out at being reminded so openly about his ails. Still, he respectfully nodded and took the pouch he was handed.

With the last of the men receiving their dues, Lorraine began to regard each and everyone of them. Noting the look of mild curiosity of what was happening next.

But before that.

"Get out here you fools, all of you."

On cue, eight men walked out and stood to one side. Each wearing expressions ranging from sheepish to pure contempt. Of course, this included the two man-at-arms that had accompanied her.

"So, what have you got to explain for yourselves?"

"The brat somehow had a bad case of dysentery. Lucky enough, the shit wasn't some colour other than shit."

"Oi!"

"Neal nearly landed himself a pretty merc-lady. I must apologise, ma'am, but it seems his days in the company are numbered."

"Hey."

She was mad. Really, she was. Yet, one look at the men gathered told her that at least half of them had been through enough for today.

Also, she was vaguely aware of a smell, and she had an idea just who it was.

"Harold, stay here. Alan, take Benji to the public bathhouse. Head down the street west of here, then turn left and it'll be the 5th building on the right."

The man-at-arm in question nodded before moving out.

"Neal, your banned from going anywhere. Harold's your partner for the next week."

"Okay now, that ain't fair madam."

"Your fault for finding another lady other than me to serve," Lorraine spoke in a faux tone, much to the displeasure of the two.

"Now, where was I?" she pondered out loud. "Ah, yes!"

With a snap of her fingers, she turned to address the still standing footmen. The situation continues to grow more estranged.

"There are new openings in the Core Troops. Starting from our departure from Ken, three days from now, each lance will be observed for promising candidates. Any of you wanting the position, this is your chance."

Easily, close to half of the footmen had sparkles in their eyes. The rest were a mixed bunch, but there was a simple reminder for that.

"Infantry pay starts at thirty Eos. There is also guarantee for your belongings to be returned to your families. They may also be allowed to live with the company within reason."

That was what caught the attention of the footman. It was no secrecy that their company leader had been getting the extra hands to aid in the management of the company from somewhere. Still, many found it a worthwhile risk considering the current state of the realm.

"You will have until we return to the main camp at the settlement to decide. Now, onto the other matter, I have given each of you lot an extra gold coin each to spend over the next few days, starting tomorrow. Spend wisely and be sure to remember those who didn't get to be here. Dismissed."

In unison, the men snapped to attention and gave a chest salute.

"Yield not, fail naught! Nos homines bellicosi!"

With that, they dispersed around camp. The earlier feeling of annoyance also seemed to leave with the men, and Lorraine found herself then in a good mood all things considered.

"Uhm, ma'am."

Almost a good mood at least.

She turned to regard the returnees. There was no need to openly query what they want.

"Wait one, until the others return," she said, earning numerous grumbles. "In the meantime, do tell me just how your day was?"

"Other than having to wait a man to take a dump? Not much," spoke Harold, bluntly.

"Honestly, madam. I'm surprised this place isn't more packed, and I mean it seriously. This square we're in alone, I've seen at least half a dozen colours. Just where is everyone?"

"Fair question, and to answer, I have a belief their mostly in the outer quarters of the city."

"Why so?"

"Because that's where you want to be if you wish to get intimate without having to worry about the clergy."

It took a moment, but, sure enough, Neal began to grow uncomfortable at the open implications. He was not alone.

"To think, even in the Goddess' holy city, people would do such things," Fionn remarked darkly.

"Yeah, well, people are people," Lorraine shrugged. "There's a lot more youngsters with their legs still closed here than you'll fine in most other places. Church tries to keep the pretence of sanctity and all that. Can't really choose to side with them though."

"Why's that?"

"You'll know when you see them," stated the lady with a deadpan expression. "I ain't saying jack."

"So what happens now? We just gonna stay here and dawdle?" Harold asked abruptly.

"One, we're not just 'staying here to dawdle'. The outcome of the meeting hasn't been fully decided yet."

Hearing this, the men shared a look amongst one another. "And, just what was the meeting for again?"

"Owen and Fionn didn't say anything?" asked Lorraine, bewildered.

"No, we headed straight to you right after coming back."

Hearing this, Lorraine proceeded to give a brief description of what had transpired earlier that day. The looks of the men, likewise, changed from some manner of tired to full on surprise.

"An attack on the Dark Fortress? You can't be serious?" Harold ridiculed.

"I'm surprised just as you are."

"Still, a chance to end this war, how's that? Maybe I can finally get to settle down with my girl," another man-at-arm remarked.

"Don't jinx it, lad. We won't be out of business so easily. Lots of demons will still be roaming the realm even if killing the Dark Queen renders them headless."

"So what's your plan, after this ma'am?" Harold asked.

"I'd wish to say it'll depend on what the full outcome of the meeting is. However, truth be told, I plan on sticking to the original focus."

"You mean to say the recruitment drive?"

"Yes, you're right."

"But ma'am, I don't mean to sound rude, the attack on the Fortress should be a bigger priority, yeah? Ser Gilroy would want to know about this," Owen joined.

"Even if we were to return with due haste, it doesn't change the fact that we've suffered a heavy blow to our ranks recently. Besides, it's not like this attack is going to take place immediately. We've got until after winter to see what becomes of it."

"So you saying we should sit back while the rest do the fighting and make the effort to end all this?" said the man-at-arm, voicing his displeasure.

"I'm saying that we shouldn't be throwing ourselves into fires we can't easily put out on our own," the principle of the company doubled down. "I should warrant you to be more mindful of your teachings, soldier."

Before the argument could grow anymore heated, Benji and Alan returned. The former looking very fresh whilst the latter was just placid.

"Hey, ma'am! We're back!" exclaimed Benji.

"Enjoyed your bath boys?"

"Yeah, it was alright," responded Alan.

The leader of the company took as her cue to continue what should've been done much earlier. Heading back into the carriage, she took out the remaining pouches and all but tossed them towards the expecting men, earning a few curses in the process.

"No triumphant parades for us, milady?" Neal teased.

"Heavens, no. I'd turn pauper just having to serve one of you, your dues."

"Thanks, maam!" Benji piped. Much to his confusion, the others began looking at him with a degree of bewilderment.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing dear," Lorraine smiled. "Now, be a good lad and see to it that your settled in for the night. You've got a big day tomorrow."

The youth nodded enthusiastically before taking his leave. His fellows stared at him as he made his way to his horse.

"I can't believe he said that," Alan commented, before turning to the maiden. "And I can't believe you just played along."

"Oh, shush. You have to admit that he's likeable because of how genuine he is."

"Remind again, how did that guy made it to becoming a yeoman?" someone asked.

"He's got a big heart, but don't mistake him for a dull. I should know, he's got a surprising neck for surviving absurd situations. Plus, did you know he can read well?"

"How well we talking here?"

"Ser Gilroy has him as a scribe-in-training. He could make a fine cavalier."

"Caic tarbh, you mean to tell me he'll outrank us?!" Owen snapped.

"I'm not saying will, just that he could. You know what's needed, act on it and no cheating."

He spat. "Whatever, but just stop it."

"Stop what?" Lorraine tilted her head.

"The….. thing. I mean, stop acting like your one."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't take you for having a mother. I didn't mean to replace to her if that's what you mean."

"Téigh trasna ort féin!"

A/N: And I'm done! Man this was tiring, but so, so worthwhile.

I must say, I'm on a roll with this. I know, I should go back to RGK, but dare me, I may just continue this for a bit more since I'm having a lot of fun with this.

Anyways, not much to say here. Other than, do review and comment! It always helps to know what people think.