Three days back were they in the Ubersreik, and Cedric was already missing the sweet Brettonian wine that they'd been serving back at the local Inn. He and his entourage had been lucky gaining passage on one of the barges that led down the River Tuefel. They'd docked on a small port between Aurswald and Stimmigen, Captain Holmmann opting to keep his lads from enjoying yet another city's hospitality and keeping their feet on the ground and continually marching. 

It was an old forest path used years ago before the roads had been well maintained and paved for commercial use, but it was still well trodden. The forest had cleared from continual use of marching feet, leaving nothing but a dirt trail wide enough for a wagon, or 5 men walking abreast. All around them the Reikwald loomed around them. Trees as thick as Dwarves and tall as giants towered in the sky, an ominous mist licking the trunks and teasing the vision of the contingent of men now making their way down the path. 

"Keep moving!" Cerdic ordered, giving a Reikland swordsman a hard look and a rough push. The man immediately perked up and stepped with more assurance. Usually the Sergeant would blame the soldier, but this mist had everyone's spirits down this day. They'd gotten off the ship only a day previous and it still felt like they had been walking for an eternity. There was something about the forest that was thick and dark. Almost suffocating. That wasn't an excuse for the men however, and if they expected a kind word from him then they could kiss his ass. 

There were 30 swordsmen, 20 Halberdiers, 20 riflemen, and over a score of various Mercs scattered throughout the Caravan. Why they needed Mercenaries, or hell, this many troops was beyond him. It was merely a shipment of iron and gunpowder bound for Nuln. The three wagons at the center bumped along the unpaved forest floor, mules letting out groans and snorts. The sound made all the men on edge, for everywhere else the silence was deafening. As eerie as the forest was, he knew trees couldn't drive a sword in his gut. They were in the heart of the empire after all. The man sighed, and knew he was just trying to convince himself. The Reikwald was famous for its beastman population just as many areas in the Empire. 

He caught a glimpse of who was leading the front next to Captain Hollman. A towering Warrior Priest of Sigmar strode confidently, his armor thick and his faith as loud as his laugh. Close cropped hair and a powerful chin gave him an easily recognizable face of authority. It was a contrast to his Captain, who looked as slim as a blade.