It was a familiar song. Ansi had heard it in his youth, although the words were different then. Most things were different in Quishan.
 
[i]Join the Legion today! Be part of something greater than yourself! See the world! Meet new cultures! Sail the seas![/i], and so on and so forth. No matter the faction, it was always a similar assembly of words, attempting to entice impressionable and able-bodied youth from the comfort and security of their homes. And inexplicably, [i]successfully[/i]. More than enough young men and women [i]answered[/i] that call, and left everything they knew to gamble their lives for some intrepid adventure.
 
Once the Legion or the Company or the Army or the Coalition or whatever tiresome incarnation roved through villages and cities, they always left the populations behind them a little lessened. One way or another.
 
Every body of force, every corps, needed more [i]bodies[/i].

Case in point, there was one hanging from a rope just now.

Normally at this hour, Ansi would be sleeping and awaiting the arrival of the dreaded nightfall to strap on his quiver and earn his keep. Unfortunately with all the commotion about Alonso now, sleep was impossible. Instead, he decided to capitalize on the Legion’s offering of meals to the town’s locals—which, he supposed, he was one. At least for now.

There was nothing to indicate that accepting food from the People’s Legion meant accepting conscription, so what was the harm? He was hungry and free food was rare. It was a lot easier to fill a bowl with soup than it was to perch by the river and catch his dinner. 

With his bow strapped on his back and over his chest, which seemed like a good idea to have [i]just in case[/i], Ansi leaned innocuously against a pollarded tree, sipping broth from a wooden bowl. Nearby a Legionnaire was spinning some sort of yarn about a mad killer. The man being a natural storyteller immediately led Ansi to assume the tale was entirely falsified. Up in the cages like animals, the prisoners were likely awaiting their turn on the rope. Ansi guessed they were probably nothing more than vagrants, driven mad by the nightly efertide or something sinister. Pitiable, but probably beyond help.

The mage-eyed woman unnerved him, however. There was no telling what she could do, even in this state. And if she did it, he’d best be out of harm’s way.

Still, Ansi listened. In the tall tale might lie grains of truth explaining the true origins of their prisoners. More importantly, therein might lie the true nature of the People’s Legion—was it really a force of good or just another meat grinder? If the Legion had simply rounded up a handful of raggedy humans just to make a show of them, then perhaps Ansi might need to plan on leaving town much sooner.

Meanwhile, some moron by the fountain was already taking the bait. Ansi never understood how these public spectacles could always churn up a foolish froth out of idle townsfolk. Perhaps they were simply desperate to know that there was more world beyond their measly homes, and thought that a companionable armed force would protect them against the ever-hungry nocturne.

It wouldn't.

Already one man was dead, swaying in the breeze at the end of a morosely creaking rope. One thing was certain, if only for the caged wretches: more death was soon to follow.