Having survived a skirmish with bandits on the road to Meurthe, Roger gets more insight into the political situations and complicated cultures of Haikk Five. After some interrogation of their new prisoner, the Leopards and forces of Johannes Van Hoeve finally arrive at the town that once seemed so easy to get to. Given room and board, one of their number learns the hard way that some of their new comrades wish to be more friendly than usual. But just as that crisis is averted, a shocking revelation throws all preconceived notions and plans into disarray.

Rogers mission is, despite his best efforts and hopes, somehow going to get more complicated than before...

The bodies were piled up along the side of the road, the Leopards having assisted Van Hoeve's men in organizing the grim spectacle.

"These people," the lord spoke with sadness, "Were traders from Benelige, my people's home counties. They left Meurthe a few hours ago with no escort, when I found out I was furious, but such are my people. War is business, and what is the cost of a few guards to watch over you compared to the profit you will still make?"

Johannes looked at the bodies of the dead convoy members, watched over by the stunned and blank faces of the few survivors before shaking his head.

"It never hurts to be careful," Roger agreed. "Frankly we were taking a hell of a risk going out here with no information."

"You were with the Konstantins, no?"

"Aye, but they gave us maps and the advice of a scout who had his tongue cut out. Wasn't much help when we asked him questions."

"I would be lying if I said I was any friend of theirs. They have no interest in what goes on in the east, only on the west."

The two began walking towards the former site of the duel between Erwan and Rudolf, seeing their troops mingle. The horsemen, who preferred to call themselves coustilliers, were speaking with Hawke, or at least attempting to. Davie, to the surprise of no one, had quickly ingratiated himself to the infantry, who were laughing at what Roger could tell was dirty jokes and tales from his life. Bob was with him, wrapping the arm of one of the females who had taken a hit in the melee.

"Well, my men seem to have taken to yours."

"We Beneligers are friends to everyone. Especially with skills or coin."

"At least you're honest. We've had to pretend to be noble and self-sacrificing for way too long."

"We have these qualities as well, but mostly in the nobility. But the folk here are different, if you have not noticed. These folk are the Valons, I am told their ancestors are also from the Terran lands of Franc, as the people to the west are. But there are more than a few Jermani as well, as your prisoner shows."

"And your people aren't?"

"Small parts of it, but we descend from the people of Benelux, where the name comes from."

"But you said you were uniting your homeland-"

Johannes smiled and was about to answer when a loud blast echoed from behind them. The two knights made a startled turn to see the hand cannoner standing in a cloud of smoke, the black armor of Evita standing next to him. Holding the weapon was Parky, who laughed at the experience.

"That was awesome!" he yelled, the grin on the gunner's face bright and wide.

Evita seemed less impressed by the spectacle, gently taking the weapon and handing it back to its owner.

"That Sororitas is quite something."

"She's… very protective of us. And having someone who likes carrying a heavy bolter never hurts, right?

"No, heavy weapons are never unappreciated here. Too bad the Konstantins refuse a fair fight, bringing their lasguns and never allowing anyone to get close."

"They want to survive the day as much as anyone."

"Hmm."

They found Erwan sitting on a stool, possibly taken from one of the convoy wagons. His helmet was off, revealing a sweat stained face. Still handsome of course, but certainly showing the signs of the duel.

"How you holding up?" Roger asked.

"My left arm is killing me, and I've probably got enough bruises that my body looks like moldy cheese. But I won, and we all survived, thanks to our new friend."

"I did want to ask, is Rudolf your prisoner or mine?"

"I… never really thought about it, Sir Roger."

"Well in that case, you beat him, you get to choose what to do with him. I don't think you'll get much of a ransom, but I'm sure that you'll find something."

Erwan nodded, rubbing his arm with a face twisted in pain.

"You talk to Bob?"

"Yes, nothing serious according to him. I will be less effective for a few days, but nothing more."

"Good. And where is Rudolf, by the way?"

"A few of the Branders men are guarding him over there. If you want to interrogate him, I'd say now would be the best time."

"Cheers. I'd rest a bit and get that healed up."

"Gladly," Erwan grunted as he shifted slightly.

True to his word, the robber knight was under the careful watch of two intimidating men armed with goedendags, the spiked clubs that proved themselves against their enemies in the skirmish. Apparently, the Beneligers had created these weapons as an easy, mass producable way of dealing with the armored knights that had plauged were also guarding a woman in tattered clothes, wild eyed and hair in a complete mess. Upon seeing Johannes, she rushed towards him, bowing and grabbing at his lower body in an embrace. Babbling something in the Benelige dialect, the lord let her drone on for a few moments before smiling and lowering himself, embracing her in return. They stayed together for a few moments, Roger moving towards Rudolf and the guards.

"Sir Roger," one of them grunted.

"What's going with her?"

"She was one of the hostages these bandits took. Rattled, but untouched, Godkeizerijdank."

"What's she saying?"

"Telling him how great and wonderful he is, stuff like that. Lord Van Hoeve is a very famous man in Benelige. He's a hero who will finally free us all from our oppressors."

Roger thought about asking more, but thought that it would be better to speak to Johannes or the upper class of Meurthe.

"Do you think he's a hero?"

"I would not have left my shop in Bruse if I didn't think his cause was worth it. Most of us infantrymen are militia raised to help until we can get a professional army raised. And even then… I might stay and help."

Johannes stood up with the woman, patting her shoulder before walking with her towards the prisoner and the others.

"Sir Roger, this woman speaks in Rudolf's defense."

"What?"

"She says he stayed away from the attack and protected her as best he could. Could not save her clothes of course, but spared her from a… worse fate than what she got."

"Well, what happens to him is up to Erwan. Let's talk to him for a little.

Rudolf was sitting in a small tent, his armor still gleaming and brilliant after the vicious duel.

"Sir Rudolf," Johannes said with a bow. "I think I killed your men."

"You did, Sir Johannes. Frankly it was for the better. A group of scum that deserved no quarter."

"And yet you went along with them?"

"My lands are stolen, I have no income… you merely work with what you get."

Johannes nodded and looked to Roger, waving his hand to allow him to speak.

"So, you were just a robber knight who met us and all went to hell?"

"Ja. Believe me, if we would have known you all would be coming here, Conrad would never have ordered that attack on the convoy."

"I thought you were in charge?"

"Yes, but more to show recruits that we were a real deal. After all, who would not want to serve alongside a knight, yes?"

Roger nodded and scratched his chin.

"And what other crimes have you been involved in?"

"Burning farms, attacking guards, sneaking some ruffians in and out of places. I do not know the exact crimes my men committed in my service or name, but… justice has been meted out against them. I know my conscience is clear."

"Did you attack estates as well?" the Benelige asked.

"Yes. We had just moved into this area a few weeks ago. We mostly stuck to the west-"

"Did you attack Imperial forces?" Roger cut-in.
"Hah! We were desperate, not suicidal. We did hit a noble lord's manor before we came here. Raised all sorts of hell."

Johannes took interest in this and tapped his sword hilt.

"Did you happen to catch the name of whoever you raided?"

"Well… it was something like Argac. I can not really remember, we were more busy getting away."

Johannes took a piece of parchment and started drawing on it. Before Roger could ask where he got either of the objects, he handed it to the outlaw.

"Did his heraldry look like that?"

Rudolf nodded affirmatively, the lord sniffing dissapassionatley.

"Do you have any other questions for him?"

"Not really. He doesn't have much I need for my mission."

"Very well. Sir Rudolf."

The two exchanged bows, Roger noticing that the outlaw seemed more nervous and pale by the end. Whatever length of time he still had alive may have dropped exponentially in a single sentence. The two knights walked out of the tent, Johannes rolling his neck.

"So, brother, cousin, brother in law? Whose lands did he make the mistake of attacking and making your life harder? And if you're gonna kill him, ask Erwan first."

"What?" he blanched. "Ah, I forget that you are not from around here Sir Roger. No, the Argacs are a family among the most hated by my people, and those around here. If anything, I would ask for his release!"

"What? He's a bandit leader! An outlaw by-"

"I! I am an outlaw, Sir Roger!"

The lord laughed, his smile and optimism almost pathologic.

"Myself and all the men who serve me are by rights to serve the Argacs and their allies, the westerners who think they can bully us into accepting their rule! I am fighting against them, and raising armies to ensure that none of the blue lily brood make another step here!"

Roger looked back at him in baffled silence. Were these the rebels that the Konstantins had crushed? But they obviously had no idea that this rebellion was going on just outside the fortress walls… actually, were they heretics? Was this a result of the Temple trying to stir up insurrection and topple the Imperium from within? He adopted an air of caution, trying to stay calm and not give anything away.

"Er… I was not aware of the political situation here."

"Were you not told by your masters?"

"Not in the slightest. And I'm starting to wonder why."

XXXXXX

Meurthe was only half an hour away from the site of the ambush site, and with the combined Anglois-Benelige force gathered together, it was a more comfortable and calm ride than before. It was slower on account of the infantrymen that Johannes had brought, but they knew the area and forests better, and slow experience was better than quick ignorance. Erwan, Johannes, and Roger rode at the front, the coustilliers flanking them as if they were an escort.

"Some of the finest light horsemen in the galaxy, I assure you. They ride fast, hit hard, and vanish behind the lines of steel in our infantry. Oh, you must see them in combat Sir Roger, you will never look at combat the same way again!"

"For now, I'll take your word for it My Lord."

"Oh please, none of this "Milord" schijten, just call me Johannes. You and Erwan are my guests, and ones that will deliver our victory!"

"Well, for disciplines sake, especially around the men-"

"Very well, but I warn you, when we begin to drink and eat to our hearts content, any man is a brother in my eyes!"

It did not take Roger to figure out how he had become a leader of an army: charismatic, optimistic, and a true soldier's soldier. He silently prayed he was not on the heretics side, as much because he could not dislike the man as knowing how big of a threat someone like him could be to face.

"How is this Meurthe?" Erwan asked. "Is it a decent place?"

"A fine midway point from the Benelige dykes to the Vaudtel mountains. It's a decent village, and the people like my men."

He did not say anything, but thought it was odd to say such a thing when a man of his status would be saddled with the feudal responsibility of at best a hundred men. But it was rude to speak ill of your host, especially one that saved one's life and the lives of their men.

"Do you know who's in charge there?"

"Yes, a Mayor Paul Friedel. A very welcoming chap, but I guess most mayors are quite polite when you arrive with armed men at your door, eh?"

"It does make one a very charitable neighbor in my experience," Erwan added.

They continued on a few minutes before Roger moved to the back of the group to check in on his men.

"You alright Evita?"

"My feet are a bit sore, but I have marched through much worse and longer before this. I am thankful I was not issued the tactical heels."

"Tactical heels?" Hawke said curiously.

"The high heel boots we are issued with our Power Armor."

Davie swung in the saddle to look at her in disbelief.

"They really make you wear those things into combat?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

"What fucking moron thought that was a good idea?"

"Believe me Davie, I wish I had the answer for that. Along with plenty of my Sisters who would gladly tell him why he should not have done so."

"With words?"

She lifted her Heavy Bolter and raised an eyebrow, much to the amusement of the Leopards.

"I don't mean to ruin the mood," Roger said with a chuckle, "But I want you all on your best behavior when we get to town. We don't need the locals and our new friends finding reasons to hate us. And no whoring! Just in case any of you needed to be reminded. Especially you Parky, we know how the women of the galaxy go after you like bees and honey!"

The others laughed as the young man in question turned slightly red in the face. Roger saw that Evita was about to say something to protest or defend him, but Roger shot out a hand and whispered to her.

"Don't dig his grave any deeper, Sister. Especially with the amount of favoritism you've shown him."

She bit her lip and continued walking, Davie and Hawke giggling and whispering comments to one another that probably were best ignored. He rode back a little and moved his helmet to activate the comms device in his ear.

"What do you think Kallen?"

"More allies never hurt. If they truly are your allies, I mean."

"We should learn more about Johannes and his men," Moire added. "The political and military situation in this area also seems to be more complex than you were led to believe."

"I wasn't aware you were interested in human affairs, Moire."

"If it makes your life and ours much simpler and allows us to focus on our mission, then we should pursue it."

"Agreed. Did you send the Rangers ahead to make sure that this town exists and it's not been burned to the ground."

"All is well," Anya whispered in his ear.

"Roger, were you informed that the forces on this planet were unable to organize or were insignificant?"

"Essentially. What's wrong Anxo?"

"Curious. No reason in particular. All is well, and the town is secure with your new allies."

"Good to hear. Scout out a place for you all to camp with no issue, and we'll figure out where to go from there."

"Understood."

As the comms device went silent, Roger began to ask himself more questions. What was Anxo asking about organization or insignificant? But if he was being told not to worry…

"Damn it all," he grunted, riding past his men and towards the front.
Erwan was laughing with Johannes, who was telling a story of times past.

"...so after I knock him off his horse, he lands in one of our famous swamps. Of course, his ransom was worth a kingdom, so I had to run in there and grab him! But then, because I was in full armor, I got stuck and-ah, Roger! I was telling Sir Erwan about the dangers of moving through marshlands in armor."

"Do tell."

"Right. Two whole lances of infantry have to move in and pull us out!"

He let out a bark of laughter, his Vretan compatriot chuckling along with him.

"Oh it was embarrassing. When I ransomed him off, I gave the men who helped us some of the reward, as much as a thank you for saving our lives as to keep them quiet! Oh those were the days. And what about you Roger, do you have any knightly stories when you were younger?"

"No My Lord."

"No? You must have had a boring liege if you had no issues."

"Pardon me Johannes," Erwan cut-in. "Sir Roger was not a knight until last year."

"But you must be in your twenties, how is that so?"

"I was raised for services given to Prince Edmund on and off the battlefield, but proved myself at Acra."

Johannes started at this and nodded slowly.

"Risen from the ranks. It is a good thing, despite what some like the Valons and their western cousins believe."

"And most of the Anglois as well," the Vretan said flatly.

"Are you of this belief, Erwan?"

"I believe my compatriot deserved his rise. Unfortunately, far too many are lackeys or the corrupt who are owed favors."

"Is this true Roger?"

He nodded and sighed.

"Unfortunately, a knighthood is a good political way of dealing with certain issues. To be knighted by your lord makes you one, but as far as your masters power goes. Having been knighted by royalty is another matter, and gives me more respect and leeway. Of course, the other problem is that for many, once a peasant, always a peasant. Even if your family has been amongst the nobility for centuries, if it started with a low born, it never is any better."

"A shame," the Beneliger responded sadly. "But I cannot say we are much better. A man can become rich in my homelands, but what worth is it if you do not have a castle or colors to your name? Ah, but if your great and brave Prince sees something in you, it means that I must underestimate. I think you truly are the man we have waited for."

"I'm glad to hear it My-"

He paused at the annoyed look of the noble.

"Johannes."

"Goed! Erg goed! And see, time flies when you are merely conversing, the gates to Meurthe are there!"

Sure enough, the imposing stone gate of the town was in the distance, the accursed fog from earlier finally dissipating.

"Are we out of the forest?"

"The Schwarzwoud is quite something, isn't it? Thankfully, this is the edge. If you would believe it, this is the middle part, the north is even thicker!"

"And the south?"

"Mountains on top of the trees. Hell to climb over, let me tell you."

Three banners rippled over the gate: the black lion on a yellow background the infantry wore, the heraldry over Johannes' armor, five small red saltires on a yellow background, and finally one with diagonal blue and yellow stripes surrounded by a red border.

"What's that last banner?" Roger asked.

"The Valons. That's what the region is called, but the people adopted it as well. Lords of Valons are the ones in charge here."

"Interesting. Does the town have its own heraldry?"

"Yes, but they fly that over the guildhall. Erm, the city hall. Whatever they call it here. And the garrison wears it as well. Nothing particularly incredible, but you can only have so many colors and designs before they start blending together."

"You have obviously never been to Anglerre," Erwan said. "You could fill a library with thousands of patterns and styles of heraldry."

"I can attest to that. The best book was about the size of a childs fist. And that was the abridged version."

"I have to visit now," Johannes laughed.

As they neared the gate, a few guards appeared, but instead of the chilly reception Roger and the Leopards received at Stratioupolis before their guide approached, cheers and waves greeted them.

"They know me, much to their regret when they wake up for their shifts hungover," the noble grinned.

The metal grates lifted, and the Leopards finally arrived in town.

XXXXXX

"Free room and board! I like these people already!"

Davie flopped down on a fine looking bed, almost falling asleep instantly. It was a skill the average civilian found annoying, but any soldier knew the value in being able to sleep quickly and do so anywhere.

"Don't get too comfortable, we still have to meet the mayor and introduce ourselves."

"But we just got here!"

"I know, but we have priorities."

"Where's the others?"

"Downstairs having drinks piled on them."

The serjeant shot up off the bed and rushed to the hallway.

"What the hell am I staying up here for then?"

Roger shook his head as he put some of his belongings down. They were being quartered at the town's local inn, a decent establishment that welcomed the Anglois with no questions about paying when Johannes stepped inside. Either he was paying for them, or his reputation meant that the cost of dealing with the foreigners was less than earning a favor from the northern noble. Erwan was already at the town hall, having volunteered to attempt early outreach to the council and mayor. He did not stop the Vretan, as dealing with politics was something that sickened him to no end. While he was not ignorant or oblivious enough to think being a knight was only running around, saving maidens and protecting the peasantry inbetween crusades or wars serving their liege, the idea of having to deal with the third oldest profession in human history was no easier a thought.

"Better know than never," he grumbled, leaving his helmet but still wearing the rest of his armor set.

His boots thudded on the steps as he went down to the main part of the inn, musty and smelling of spilled beer and wine. Hawke, Davie, and Bob were all hunched over the counter, a mix of pale and dark ales being imbibed in.

"He only got down here a minute ago, is he already on his second glass?"

"Nah," Bob responded.

"We're making sure he's staying above level, don't you worry," Hawke added before leaning into Roger. "They water down the drinks, you can tell. Don't bite as hard, but taste worse."

"I'm glad we can rely on your experience. Where's Parky and Evita?"

"Evita went to the chapel down the street to thank the Emperor for our safe arrival, Parky was out taking a piss, he should be back in a second."

Roger nodded before his stomach tightened in concern. He thought the Sororitas knew better after the last half a year to go to any place of worship alone in the system, but given her armor and the apparent rarity of women like her in this area, he had to believe she would be safe. Scanning the rest of the inn, he realized there were three empty glasses at a table still occupied. On the back of one of the chairs was a jacket bearing the Branders livery.

"What's that all about?"

"Three of Sir Johannes' infantry were there, the ladies."

"Where'd they go?"

"Dunno. Last I saw them was a little before you came downstairs."

"Well, finish what you have and get ready, we're meeting the high and mighty around here, and I don't want you stinking of drink everytime you open your mouth."

"Alright Rog," Davie said, finishing half a pint in a single gulp.

The others at the counter attempted the same, Roger giving an appreciative nod to the innkeeper. He was hesitant at first to allow foreigners into his establishment, especially soldiers, but whatever Johannes said or did was enough to smooth any problems over. As they exited, the sounds and smell of a growing town filled the air around them: the stench of human filth in the ditches nearby, baking bread, and the smoke of firewood.

"Throne, would it kill them to figure out sewers?" Hawke said with a grimace.

Anglerre, though a feudal world, had plenty of small eccentricities that made it on the cusp of civilised status. How they were able to stay under their classification always baffled Roger, but there were some things best left alone.

"Different cultures and customs my friend. We'll wait here for a bit so Evita and Parky can find us, then head on out."

There was little arguing this, and Roger looked up to the impressive clocktower in the center of what he was told was the city hall building. Gothic styled as most Imperial buildings were, the fact it was so finely crafted despite its rather innocuous use was more evidence that there was more to this planet than Roger expected. As the clock struck four o' clock, four loud, thunderous tolls that echoed throughout Meurthe, he began to wonder just how in the dark Edmund and the rest of the crusade really was. His thoughts were broken by a nudge from Bob, a serious look on his face. Before the knight could ask, the old man pointed a finger at a nearby alley.

"You can't be serious."

Parky had his back to the wall, his face a look of quiet panic. Cornering him were the three infantrywomen, one of them with her arm firmly planted next to his face. They were all about Parky's height, but even if he was a trained soldier and his opponents were women, being outnumbered was never a good situation. As the others noticed, Roger began moving towards the group.

"...I'm not rough," their leader said, running her finger along the young mans cheek.

"I-I-I have things to do today?"

"Then what about tonight?"

"I don't know."

"Excuse me ladies," Roger said with his best commanding voice. "I believe you've trapped one of my men."
The three were not ugly by any means, but Parky had no interest. Actually, he looked quite scared at the prospect of being cornered by the three women.

"Ah, Sir Roger. I hope there is no hard feelings still."

He frowned in slight confusion, then realized it was the one who nearly clubbed his skull in. Katharina, he remembered.

"Of course. Heat of battle and all that, ja?" But I would like to ask you and your friends to leave him alone."

"But he's quite handsome," one of the women said with a slight pout. "More handsome than most of our men."

"True, but he's not on the market as it were."

"Vow of chastity? Or is he taken?"

"Neither."

Katharina looked to her comrades, one of them pulling out a small lleather pouch.

"Thirty thrones, me and the ladies get a night with him."

"He's not a whore, he's one of my soldiers. Firstly I'm insulted you would think otherwise, and second, even if he's not taken, he does have a protector."

"And that is not you, Mijneer Ridder?"

"No."

Parky's eyes darted pleadingly at Roger. Plenty of men would kill to be in his situation, but the poor boy had no experience or any desire to get any.

"Then who is he?"

"She, actually."

"We can fight her," the one who had stayed quiet so far. "Where is she?"

"I have no idea, but I can guarantee you that for both your safety and my patience, you leave the boy alone."

"Is that a challenge?" Katharina grunted, slowly moving her hand to what Roger presumed to be a knife. "I understand we are all to be friends, but as much as the men of Branders will take a challenge, the women are just as vicious and willing to defend their honor."

Roger sighed and rubbed his cheeks.

"No, really, the woman protecting him is bad news. Just move away from him, because if she finds you surrounding him-"

"As I said," the quiet one spoke again. "We. Will. Fight. Her."

"Does not matter who or what," her leader said calmly. "And I have no doubt that-"

Their faces changed from firm to blank, maybe even a bit of nausea. The knight lowered his head and groaned, the presence behind him and the shadow behind him leaving little imagination as to who arrived.

"Hello Evita."

"Sir Roger," she hissed. "And who are these women? And what are they doing exactly?"

"They were having a discussion with Parky on military matters, right ladies?"

He slightly jerked his head, almost pleading with the three to let him go for their own safety. Katharina swallowed loudly and nodded.

"His aim is… quite good."

"I am certain he appreciates the sentiment. Sir Roger, we are wanted at the cityhall, yes?"

"Correct."

The women of Branders stood aside, allowing Parky to move quickly back to his ranks.

"If I was aware, we would not-"

"Never mind. Here."

Roger handed them a small pouch of his own.

"Buy some drinks on the honor of Anglerre."

"Gewaardeerd."

Leaving the three behind in the alley, the Anglois and Sororitas moved towards the hall.

"Were they attempting to-"

"No," Parky blurted out. "Just a conversation."

"I do not believe you. Roger?"

"I don't know what they specifically wanted, but they figured out that it was best to leave him alone. I think you reinforced the point."

"But-"

"Leave it at that, Evita. Please."

Silenced politely, there was no conversation until they arrived at the front of the town hall.

XXXXXX

They were met by a group of local guards who eyed the group with suspicion, but a friendly nod from one of Johannes' men was enough to welcome them in. They were greeted by Erwan, who noticed them and moved over to greet the Anglois. But Roger was put on alert by the nervous expression on the Vretans face.

"Sir Roger, good to see you arrived."

"Sir Erwan."

The two embraced, Roger quickly whispering in his ear.

"What's going on?"

"Things are not as simple as we thought?"

"The talks failed?"

"No, in fact they already completed with success. I mean this planet. The people."

As they broke apart, Roger frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"The politics, the technology level, the military force… everything you and I were told was wrong."

"Do you have proof?"

"Not anything you can find at a city council meeting. Follow me. All of you."

As the knight took the lead, the rest of the Anglois dutifully followed.

"This building was a gift of the lords of Valons, nearly a thousand years ago. The bells inside the tower were forged from the steel of fallen enemy knights after a battle fought in the Schwarzwoud."

"Throne, how could anyone fight in that mess?"

"Good question, but that is what Johannes told me."

He opened a door, leading up a set of spiraling stairs. Roger realized that they were going up the belltower.

"Erwan, what's this about?"

"You need to see to believe."

Roger silently readied his blade, worried that they had outlived their usefulness and that the Vretan had become an ally of their new allies. Were they the heretics and rebels he was chasing? Was it the Tendency? Was the Inquisition behind all this?

"From this belltower, Johannes hopes to start a new campaign. One of liberation. And he has the men to do so."

"He barely has a hundred men."

They had climbed to the top of the tower, Erwan in the lead. He looked down with a look of disappointment.

"I thought so too."

They could all fit in the belltower, looking out towards Meurthe.

"Looks smaller than I thought," Davie said absent-mindedly.

"Holy shit," Hawke let out.

"Notham's bigger, my friend. You just never realized it."

"Boss, you need to look at this. Now."

Roger turned around at Hawke, who was staring towards the other side of the town walls. He moved alongside and looked out. As his mind registered what he saw, his jaw dropped.

"Bloody hell," Parky said as looked on.

Evita was of similar mind, utterly silent and not even admonishing Parky for the rough language. But even in her years and all the things she had seen, the sight was quite remarkable.

It was tents. Hundreds, or thousands of them. Some waving the banners of Branders, others the flag of Valons. It was a massive army, bigger than anything the Imperium expected Haikk Five capable of.

"I see you are impressed," Johannes said, standing at the top of the steps with a grin. "A third of them are militia, something to pad our forces. But other than that, I also command one of the ordinance companies, but Duke Bernard of Charo commands the other."

"Ordanance? That's all cannons?" Roger asked in astonishment.

"Nie, nie, apologies Roger. Ordinance. As in the laws set by our ancient king Karol the Bold. The Branders militia are about five hundred strong, mostly infantry with some archers. The ordinance companies have about a hundred knights, an equal number of coustilliers, two hundred fifty mounted archers, fifty crossbow men, eighty five foot archers, one hundred sixty five pikemen, and fifty handgunners."

He listed them off with glee, boasting of his forces with little concern.

"Oh, and five cannons."

"Eight hundred men," Roger said with a shake of his head. "And that's one company. You got two of them."

"Correct, my vriend."

"And how many companies do you think your people could raise?"

Johannes thought quietly before shrugging.

"About twenty if we got everyone of our lords together."

A whole Imperial Guard Corps and a half from one part of a planet. Even Anglerre had some difficulty getting enough men for the Haikk Crusade, and this planet had already outnumbered them. The entire Anglois party looked at the Brandish noble in disbelief.

"All equipped like you?" Hawke asked.

"Yes."

Roger looked back at the gathered armies, realizing that everything he had been told about Haikk Five, from the rebellion, the situation, the basics of every part of his mission were absolutely, factually wrong.

"You think it is impressive, yes?"

"I think…" Roger said as he tapped his check with his hand. "I need to talk to the people in charge of me. They've been a bit wrong lately."

"You should let your superiors know what is going on here, Roger. Because this place, Meurthe…"

He waved around, to the camp and to the town itself.

"Will be the site of the first spark towards the inferno of liberation."

The Leopards turned to Roger, expecting him to say something, whether to support or rebuke Johannes. The talk certainly sounded heretical to their ears, but they had been kept in the dark on the realities of what was going on and why they were here. For that matter, Roger and Erwan were little better. His thoughts, a complete and utter blank, scrounged out an answer, even if it was not the best.

"You and Prince Edmund would get along fantastically."