[center][b]The after-math of the battle.[/b][/center] The battle had been immense, dead everywhere, corpses laid in massive piles and mass graves being dug just to get rid of all the corpses. War was a bloody business, but a lucrative business. Claus knew this full well as he strolled around in his makeshift encampment where his men were doing all sorts of things. Some were peeling potatoes, some were carrying firewood, others carried bags of loot. But Claus didn't see that. He however bumped a trooper so that he was made aware that his captain was eying him, and got the hint. The Steel fist doesn't loot.... officially. Meaning all looting is to be kept professional, no obvious things. In the distance Claus saw the multitudes of covered wagons comprising Manshrews baggage train, they were being prepared to be sent to the Concord baggage train and Katrina was hard at work taking inventory and making sure the right amount of things were sent off. Claus had also had a talk with her about how things were done in the company, she had been slightly taken back by it all but in the end accepted it. After all, no one really got hurt by it and the dead weren't mocked, regardless of origin. Seeing the covered wagons also reminded Claus of the jackpot this whole battle had yielded. Running straight into the Manshrew rear, nabbing basically the whole baggage train, massive amounts of food, weapons, horses and last but not least.... money. Being the frugal individual he was, the food and weapons were dutifully given to the concord, along with the Manshrew warchest. It would be long after the battle, perhaps even the war until some coinpushing scribe with inky fingers figured out that three fourths of the money had disappeared. Along with the better looking swords and armours from the wagons. Right into the pockets of the Steel fist, oh how they would rejoice after they got home. Something else he noticed was that as darkness fell, his troops were beginning to show signs of inebriation. This was something that fascinated Claus, drinking on duty is prohibited to a single mug of light ale or cider per meal, water could be drunk in any quantity. Yet somehow the men always managed to find, get or otherwise smuggle with them enough drinks to have a party after almost every victory. He shook his head, at least they were not singing drinking songs loudly...... wait, scratch that. Claus thought as he heard the bawls of some troopers from up left. He ignored this as he moved to where his prisoner would be, some Evennis person would come and execute the poor sod apparently. Too bad Claus thought, that meant he wouldn't be getting his ransom, he had dutifully acknowledged Patrik De'Reimers descision in the matter. Now he just wanted to see the mess left after it. On the walk he thought of the other mercenaries, they would have to learn proper Steel fist conduct if they accepted his offer tomorrow. The Steel fist is the mercenary company with the highest standard of drill, equipment and individual skill in the whole of Formaroth, rules were never broken and orders were followed without hesitation.... Well, a few rules were a bit vague on purpose, others the captains had a tendency to 'miss noticing' as they were broken. As Claus reached the prison area he noticed a lack of both guards and prisoners. Both alive and dead. After a quick search he found his guard rummaging through a chest, apparently trying to find a new left glove. Claus called out to him. -"Where's the prisoner?" -"The paladin? Wasn't he ransomed?" The soldier answered with a question with a genuine surprise. -"Nope, excecuted. Looking for the corpse, he had a fancy armour and sword after all." Claus was starting to look here and there, the soldier joined in as he noted. -"No idea then, perhaps George knows. GEORGE!!!" -"What?" A slightly sleep drunk voice replied. Claus went to the source and found George in a pile of clothes with a bottle of wine. Claus took said wine and asked. -"Where's the prisoner." First George looked annoyed, then realized it was the captain that took the wine. Making a pathetic attempt at straightening up he slurred. -"Strange, this fancy concord guy came and they left. I thought it was to pick him up for ransom. They went that way." As he pointed he passed out, Claus shook his head as he took the wine with him, sipping it to calm his nerves. He walked in the direction George had pointed out. It took Claus out into the tree line, the lights and the noises was easily made out from the distant camp a few hundred yards away. There was no blood, no grave, no secret meeting. Just a few bent branches and a suspicious amount of flattened grass. Did he escape? Was he taken? Released? The blood cleaned up? Or killed with poison? Scratching his chin, he pondered for a while before realizing that no matter what, Eclipse wasn't here. Nor this Evennis type. Taking a large gulp of wine, he exhaled strongly baring his teeth before tossing the bottle and returning to camp. [center][b]Next day.[/b][/center] The following morning Claus brought some of his vanguard and moved to the encampment of the other mercenaries. He spoke to their captain and arranged a meeting where most of the troops would hear out what Claus had to say. -"Hello again troopers, i am sure you remember me. I worked my ass off so that not everyone died in the first battle against the alliance." The response was some nods and murmurs. He wasn't lying. -"Seeing i got most of you through that one, and sent you to support this army, ensuring its victory, i'd say i've shown you i'm at least a decent commander. So my proposition is simple. Anyone here who wants are encouraged to join the Steel fist. Since i see you all as damn fine troops." He made a dramatic pause. -"But do remember, the fist is the toughest merc company around, the work is hard and the drill is harsh but the pay is high. So what say you?" -"If you feel like joining up, we'll be moving out later today. We'll return to Nyhem. There we'll deck you out in the proper gear and you'll work your ass off training.... after the victory party that is." Claus finished with one of his telltale smirks, he got a few jeers and cheers. -"So if you feel like it, just come by the Steel fist camp. It's up north. If you don't want to join, i'll think no less of you. Now i'll bid you farewell." With that Claus stepped down from the makeshift speakers podium made from a crate, a few followed there and then, a bunch more would come around during the day. This was all good and fine, but Claus knew that this was a drastic measure. The Steel fist had almost been halved, perhaps more during this conflict. He was in desperate need of reinforcements and he had no time to train some poor sods from the ground up. As he was returning to his own encampment, he noticed a procession of men carrying a casket with a beautiful banner covering it, followed by other dead in a grave procession. Looking at the colours, the heraldry, he realized it was Blackwell troops. Curious about the fancy chest, he moved up to some blackwell soldiers who stood with no helms but with heads straight in respect of the fallen. Claus took off his own helmet and joined in, just now noticing the old man Blackwell himself at the fore of the procession. Makins sure to not disturb the grand picture, Claus dared to whisper to a soldier a question. -"Sorry for asking, but did someone of the Blackwells die in the battle?" The soldier at first didn't answer, but as Claus was about to give up he got a truly melancholic but not depressed answer. -"Lady Beatrice Blackwell, died fighting the Manshrew bastard Andrew in personal combat. May he die the most gruesome death at the hand of lord Giles." Claus thought for a moment, then remembered the name, the war maiden, the mysterious warrior princess with the wooden sword. He felt honestly sad that she had died before they could have had a sparring match and a good drink. -"Damn sad, she said we should have a drink sometime unless we have to fight each other in the war. I was looking forward to that one... she seemed like a woman worth hanging out with." Claus said silently with a heartfelt melancholy. -"Yeah, she was." The man spoke with reverence. -"I'll have to drink one toast for her memory then... 'death comes for us all' was it? Your saying?" Claus tried to remember the Blackwell motto. -"Death's no stranger." The soldier corrected him without looking. -"Ah, sorry... death's no stranger." Claus said with an honest feel, it was a good saying, it fit well with his own company as well. He staid for a while to pay respect to the fallen, then returned to other duties. A bunch of troops, new recruits and several wagons moved out in that afternoon. Claus had made sure every single one brought a horse, so the entire company was actually mounted at the moment. Something that no one was sure had ever happened in Steel fist history before. They took a detour past the landing camp set up near the shore when Claus first arrived in Telmarion. Picking up some of the things, a few tents and cettles. Surprisingly, not much had been taken. Manshrew apparently didn't loot, or he saw no need for tents and cooking utensils. The trip went west, to where Patrik De'Reimer had prepared ships that would take the Steel fist back to Sypius plains. [center][b]Arrival at the capitol.[/b][/center] The trip across the Inan sea was uneventful, soon the Steel fist disembarked and marched upon Nyhem. Some of the scouts were sent beforehand to warn the city about their arrival, something the nice city folk apparently appreciated, somehow they don't like a large portion of elite troops randomly arriving and taking over their taverns and inns. Something that was worrying though was the columns of smoke that could be seen in the distance, it only became clear that something was really wrong as they came within a miles range and the scouts returned. -"The city is in riot sir, apparently religious." The head scout reported to Claus, whom found the situation troubling. A large uprising in Nyhem, wars all over Formaroth. These were dark times indeed. Claus was beginning to set up camp outside Nyhem when a royal messenger arrived, with his nice yellow jacket, with the green beret adorned with a red feather fastened with a silver brooch. He had a slight fatigue to his voice but rigorous etiquette and proper conduct training made it barely noticeable. -"Message for the captain of the Steel fist." His voice was heard almost as well as Claus own, the steelhead moved up to the messenger and took the letter he held out for him. Claus read quickly and murmured 'i see' close to the end. After finishing he turned to the messenger and said. -"Tell the good king he got himself an expert riot suppression force." The messenger gave a sharp nod and then with with a 'hiyaa' spurred his horse into a fast ride towards Nyhem. Claus wasted no time and began to bark orders. -"Alright men, there's a riot in Nyhem, that letter offered me the job of stopping it which i have accepted. Go bring the cudgels and the training polearms, this operation is to be made with as few deaths as possible... on both sides. NOW MOVE IT!!!" Claus boomed out and was answered with salutes and yes sirs. -"Katrina, you're in charge of setting up camp, use the new guys since we haven't got their kit yet. Roogel, you're with me." The two acknowledged him from where they stood and quickly moved out. It didn't take long until the Steel fist was set up in their usual spear wall formation, ever with the perfect ranks of drilled soldiers. The look was however a bit odd seeing they were armed with staffs with wooden striking heads with a layer of thick leather around. Simulating roughly the weight of one of the halberds, along with cudgels in their belts. Claus and Roogel got hold of a sturdy battle staff each and set out to lead the excursion into the city, a horn call was made to the gate guards who opened the gates seeing the Steel fist banners. -"Right Roogel, time to go to work." Claus told his old friend, who nodded in response and spoke. -"Yeah, it'll be like a right 'ol bar fight, except even more fun." He was grinning, Claus shook his head, Roogels love for friendly bar fights was legendary and this would surely be a right good stomping. Poor sods he thought as he envisioned the city folk trying to fight his soldiers. He knew how much more skilled they were than militia, and militia at least had some training. Good thing he had ordered training weapons only, otherwise it would be a massacre. [center][b]"Bar fight".[/b][/center] The last time they had arrive in Nyhem it had been with great fanfare and joyous music, this time was massively different. The city was even more mellow than last time, instead of banners raised halfway to grieve a dead monarch, several of the churches and houses were on fire and scores of people were rampaging through the streets. -"Roogel, i'm starting to think there's something wrong with this place. Seems they can't keep a good mood even for a second." Claus shouted so that everyone present including the closest rioting mob could hear. His answer was a shuckle from his lieutenant and several of the troops, the company a strange sight. Perfectly arrayed halberds and synched footfalls, laughing at a silly joke made in the most unsuitable of moments. -"It's you guys! The iron fists!" A peasant shouted and pointed with an actual falchion he had managed to get hold of at Claus whom was in front of his formation. Claus was annoyed and sort of growled as he stretched his neck. -"That's STEEL FIST you ignorant fool. Now stand down, drop the weapons and we can all go home without you getting horribly beaten and thrown in jail." -"HA! We outnumber you, you're just merc scum! We can take you on! Come on lads!" The man shouted and managed to rile up the mob enough to approach the steel fist formation in a menacing way. Had he been a drunk ganger, alone in an alleyway, this might have been intimidating, Claus however was sorely impressed and simply raised his fist and shouted once. The troops behind him with a simultaneous shout went into a perfect wall of arrayed training halberds. -"Final warning, one more step and you are dead." Claus shouted, one or two here and there in the mob actually broke off now to hide, but many more were far to angry to stop. -"You are just here as the snakes lap dog! We don't fear him!" This and other shouts and jeers were made, it was obvious these people felt betrayed. These guys weren't religious fanatics though, which slightly confused Claus for a second but he quickly dismissed the thought. -"Ver well then, MEN, READY!" Claus ordered and stepped back a step and thus was within the arrayed shafts of weapons, as did Roogel. The mob charged in, tossing things and trying to smash the corpsmen with all manners of weapons and some even their fists. The effectiveness however was a lot like a child tossing eggs at the walls of Clarm. The spear wall making a perfect job of keeping the rioters at a distance. -"STEP!" Claus boomed out and was hailed with a shout as the formation pushed forward a step with such force that the rioters were pushed back. Every three or so seconds Claus repeated the order, and every step pushed the mob backwards. The mob soon routed, Claus and Roogel ran in and felled and knocked down several of the fleeing while some crossbowmen tied the hands of the downed, both in front of and behind the line. With ruthless efficiency, brutality and imposing presence and commands, Claus went around and took out all major groupings of rioters he came upon. Many fled as soon as they saw his force, many met the same fate as the first group, clobbered and beaten. At one point the fist was ambushed, at one point they were stuck in a schiltrom and assaulted from five sides. But overall the fist once again showed its skill and efficiency. They detained many, and to Claus's great pride, there wasn't many deaths, just two. And none even went down in the fist. Sure many were bruised and battered but the armour and skill of the corpsmen made sure they were fit for fight still. But several hours later, Claus retreated back outside bringing his men with him. Along with a bunch of prisoners. Who were sat down and guarded by the regular mercs while the steel fist rested. Hard work, gruesome hard work. No one really liked it, but it was better than going in and killing people. Especially when it was civilians.