[hider=A Grim Reawakening]
Rhaetia finally sat alone in her room, the largest that the inn had to offer. Mercenaries were hardly popular in Formaroth, and for good reason. However, her Bambu Company was not like most mercenary companies. They were polite, they paid well, they did not defile women, and they smelled very nice. Ieyasu had just left her to rejoin with the men. She had recovered from her wounds she had received in Telmarion, which she had received from that man named Lycaon Issarot. Soon she would return to Seiketsu. She wanted to take Lycaon's head for the wounds he had given her - he had marred her beautiful face, something that could never be undone - but the war was over, and she was not willing to wait for the next one to begin. She had heard the rumblings of an uprising down in southern Uzgob, led by a discontented preacher, some armed peasants and nomads, and the few noble loyalists audacious enough to rebel.
As she was just about to open up her book Ieyasu entered the room. Beauty and grace still flowed from him to a certain extent, but an ugly and bulging scar ran down from above his forehead to the bottom of his cheek, and had lost his right eye. He was not alone. Standing beside him was a black-skinned man dressed in furs. One of the desert savages of Uzgob, Rhaetia thought. He had a hard expression and a fearsome look, something Rhaetia did not appreciate. Nonetheless, she knew she would have to deal with him herself. The sand nomads were not known for their courtesy, and her Bambu Company would be at his neck before long. It would be hard. Her presence made men infatuated with her. She had made it so.
"My Lady Grim, this honorable gentleman is Jaggo, of the sand people of Uzgob," Ieyasu said with a subtle bow which indicated familial respect but no hint of distance. "And he wishes to speak to you concerning the possibility of employment."
Rhaetia felt anger and annoyance rising in her. Would this sandman be so presumptuous as to think she could be brought with furs and water? His request was no doubt taken as an insult by Ieyasu, and it was surprising he had not lost his head already. Nonetheless, she would listen to him, if only because certain niceties must be observed. 
"Then I am honored by his generosity," Rhaetia said. "Yet the Bambu Samurai do not come cheaply, and cannot be bought with furs and water, however valuable they may be.” 
Jaggo gave a loud laugh, and Rhaetia was so angry that she nearly drew her sword. Yet her look was not as fierce as Ieyasu, who had managed to restrain himself and had only put his hand on his katana's hilt, rather than drawing it outright, though if there was one more slight then heads would roll.
"Lady Grim, it is not my people who hire you, it is Master Fenick, and he shall give you gold equal what Andris once had promised you. All he asks you is that you fight for Uzgob once again."
"Nizaar rules in Uzgob, not someone named Fenick, I have heard," Lady Grim said. 
"Not if Fenick has his way."
“Let me take a guess,” Lady Grim said. “This Fenick of yours is the tumultuous rebel priest.”
“That sounds like him.”
"Well, whoever you are," Lady Grim said. "A mercenary company never follows without the proper payment. You say you can equal the old King's payment. Where is this gold?"
"I can answer that myself, Lady Grim," Ieyasu said. “His escort came with carriages full of gold. They are enough to deliver on his promises.”
"I see. Thank you, Ieyasu," Lady Grim corrected. "Tell me, say I accept your offer and join your rebellion, what would your Master Fenick have me do? We have lost many good men, so I will not have the Bambu Company join up with your cause, however much gold you have, if it is against our self-interest."
"He wishes to send you west. The Holy Order of Saint Elenor is arriving on the shores there, and Fenick wishes for you to link up with the local militias and destroy the Order at once.”
Rhaetia could not help but laugh. It was too perfect. So she would get the chance to face against the Holy Order once again. It seemed that heaven had favored her.
“Very well,” Rhaetia said.
“My Lady Grim?” Ieyasu said. “As your unwavering servant I must ask whether you are rushing into things here. Perhaps we ought to take a little time to consider this in greater detail.”
“There is nothing to consider,” Lady Grim said. “There is still money to be had here in Formaroth. Besides, you want revenge, don’t you?”
“True enough,” Ieyasu said. “Still, it surprise how quickly you acquiesced.”
“I know a proper job when I see one,” Lady Grim said. “Now, Jaggo, why don’t you tell the two of us everything you know about Fenick, and what exactly his plans for us are. Then we’ll take your gold.”
“I am glad of your decision,” Jaggo said.
[/hider]
[hider=The Order Arrives in the East]
Herona walked with Darron by her side as they landed on the port town that had welcomed them into Glarmion. All the soldiers of the Holy Order came rushing into town, eager to get off the ships. The town had a pleasant look, with its idyllic farms and wooden houses. Some of the knights had settled into the couple of taverns that the town had, but Herona never saw any of it. Grunts like her set up camp outside the town. A knightly messenger came up and talked to her commanding officer Raymond in hushed tones. 
"News fer us, sir?" Darron said.
"Darron, I will tell you what you need to know, and not a thing more," Raymond said with a scolding tone. Nonetheless, he did have things to tell them. "Apparently Ser Sayer's knights are an unruly lot. Since the morning we've arrived there's already been a few fights, and a death. But Sayer is a firm master, it seems. He has punished the perpetrators and banned a large number of his knights from the town’s taverns. That is a better deal than the peasants should expect. Ser Sayer has need of me, so the lot of you can do as you like. Go into town if you like but remember it’s only the knights that have permission to go into the real taverns.”
Herona might just have done that. On the other hand, things might be getting out of hand if to many of the Order were going wandering into taverns and inns. For now she’d just stay at camp.

Ser Sayer stood among his captains, seated among a chair that had been placed in his tent. Plenty of places had been offered in town to make his headquarters, but none of them felt proper, so he had to be content to stay in his tent. In truth, he preferred the campsite to the idle pleasures that he could have found at a tavern. His captains, however, did not agree with him. He had three captains amongst his ranks. Captain Simone-Simon was affable, Captain Keithan was gloomy, and Captain Brandon was ruthless. These were the best captains of the Holy Order, he had been told. If that were true Sayer would have preferred second best. These were Daeleth’s men and had been bandits and lowborn mercenaries at one point. Though all Sers, they were no true knights. Not that he was much himself.
“I say we question as many we can, find out which one’re heretics and which ain’t,” Captain Brandon said.
“This town is to be a haven for us,” Sayer said. “I’ll be having no inquisitions here. This town is to be our friend, and I’ll have no heretic hunting here just so you lot can torture some peasants and fishmongers.”
“We were ordered to find heretics,” Captain Keithan said.
“And you’ll be finding plenty of them,” Sayer said. “We were ordered to drive the heretics underground, and that’s we’ll be doing. The priests will have much more information for us than any torture session possibly could. We have better things to do than search a fishtown up and down for a few of the falsely accused.”
“Well, that at least will allow us to leave in good time,” Captain Simone-Simon said.
“Yes. There are rumors of some kind of wayward malcontent sowing heresy in Glarmion’s interior,” Sayer said. “And it is not some mere priest, thank the gods. It seems he’s some kind of bandit and rebel, gathering mobs and zealots and arming them. I shall enjoy crushing them. I hope his skull shall make a good sound.”
“That do sound nice,” Captain Brandon said.

[/hider]

[hider=A Meeting of Tribes]
Fenick stood within the local church in Medea. Fenick had seen far more opulent churches, once, but the one at Medea did have some gold and silver. He had stripped the Church of it and given it to the merchants in return for their loyalty. He had planning to give it away anyway, so it was not the same as stealing from the gods, even if it felt like it. It was for a worthy cause, anyways. He wondered if the gods would be impressed by his excuse. He did not stand alone in the Church. He had sent Hargani away, to win the loyalty of the Grim Company, who were mercenaries yet brave and honorable elite soldiers nonetheless. Standing beside him were two young men, one woman, and one old man. These were the four chieftains of mighty Uzgob tribes who had come to fight for him. They would convert to the faith of the Johannia, but they were not pious. They simply wanted land and freedom to worship as they liked. The gods among the tribes looked very different than when they were worshipped by others.
There was Sakoura ibn Faduzu al-Zuwi, called Sakoura Spearbreaker, as a hundred spears had turned against him in his life and he had broken every one. He was the chieftain of the Zuwu, the largest and most powerful of the Uzgob tribes to come to Fenick’s aid, aggressive and warlike by nature. Beside him was his rival Yama ibn Bisi al-Buruni, called Yama Wyrmslayer, named for his slaying of one of the great wyrms of the desert, a feat which had made him legendary among all the tribes, and earned him the envy of Sakoura Spearbreaker. His tribe was the Burunu, a frontier that lives on the edges of north. Past Burunu territory was only the fearsome desert where no man dares venture. The Burunu had always been small and meak, but under Yama they had grown bolder and stronger than ever before. Then there was Kadi bint Fodi al-Cissi, who everyone simply called the Sand Queen. She was the chieftain of the Cisse, who were always on the move, and traversed the treacherous sands of Uzgob so well and so quickly that they seemed to be able to appear and disappear at will. Under the Sand Queen they seemed to be able to do this better than ever before. Then there was Umar ibn Majan al-Sonni, who others called Umar the Wise. He was a wizened old man, and though his fighting days were long behind him all among the tribes trusted his word. His tribe was the powerful Sonnah, who kept to their own affairs, but who always defended their own affairs with ferocity. It was these that were for now Fenick’s greatest allies. They were more trustworthy than his aristocratic “allies,” but they would have abandoned him if he suffered a decisive defeat or if his enemy offered them more than he could. 
“Lord Fenick, we come since we are willing,” Umar the Wise said. “We nations come to you, if you are amiable. Forgive the others, they don’t much in your tongue.”
“Whether they speak well or not, I am glad to have all of your assistance,” Fenick said. “I shall have great need of it in future days.”
“No go easily,” the Sand Queen said. Of the four she knew the least of the common tongue. “Promises give you.”
“Sand Queen says true,” Sakoura said. “Land, wealth, power.”
“Land, wealth, and power shall be all be given to you,” Fenick said. “In the name of the gods and in the name of High King Andris of House Mandarass, the tribes of Uzgob shall be free to conduct their own affairs in their lands and worship the gods according to their own ways, without intervention from anyone until the end of time. The tribes of Zuwu, Burunu, Cisse, and Sonnah shall be given land and cattle in great amounts.”
The Sand Queen stared blankly at him, and turned to Umar, and speaking in the language of the tribes, which Fenick could not understand, said, “What did he say? I could not get most of that. If he aims to spout a litany of poems my way, I would have sent someone else in my stead.”
“He makes promises for us,” Yama Wyrmslayer said. “Land, wealth, power. And he shall give us much if half of what he says is true.”
“And we shall take it all of it from the Greenlanders by the power of our spears,” Sakoura Spearbreaker.
“He swears in the name of the gods and his Great Greenlander High Chief that the milkmen of white robes shall never again blaspheme our rituals, and no greenlander never again shall trespass upon any nation of the great desert. Our tribes, Zuwu, Burunu, Cisse, and Sonnah shall receive from him many great lands and cattle.”
“Good,” The Sand Queen said. “Then he shall have every man of Cisse. I would not have come if I did not intend that, provided his promises were good. But if he betrays me, I shall see to it that he is swallowed by the desert.”
“What are you discussing?” Fenick said. “Is something wrong?”
“Fehanikkiya too many words,” Sakoura Spearbreaker said.
“Sakoura is right,” Umar said. “Best use few words, or the others will not understand you. But you have the loyalty of these four nations. That is clear.”
Fenick nodded, unaware that he had been especially eloquent. “Very good,” Fenick said.
“What about white preacher?” Yama Wyrmslayer said. “Him I want gone.”
“What do you mean?” Fenick said. “What white preacher?”
“There is one of the tribesmen, a masked man in white, who is preaching the Johannia message as he sees it,” Umar said. “He is fiery, and Yama not like him.”
“Preacher stays,” Sakoura Spearbreaker said. “He Zuwu, and Zuwu not do what Burunu say.”
“Nothing will happen to the preacher,” Fenick said. “But I will keep him far away from the Burunu.”
Sakoura and Yama both nodded, satisfied for the time.
“Fehanikkiya, go see white man,” the Sand Queen said. “Not disappoint.”
Fenick nodded. “I will. Yet is he not one of ours? How dangerous could be?”
“Perhaps, Fenick,” said Umar the Wise. “But you would be wise to see this preacher in white. If he is not reined in, there shall soon be violence in the street.”
Fenick nodded. “If you are insistent, I shall see him. What is his name?”
“He has no name,” Umar the Wise said. “But it will not be hard to find him.”
[/hider]
[hider=Gathering Bandits]
Johannia’s message had spread quickly. Discontent with the Church, with their overlords, and with their poverty, men and women were ready to arm themselves in service of the gods and the demiurge if they had a chance at victory. That chance might be coming soon. A movement had been stirring, and Dietrich Plaisat had been at the heart of it since the beginning. In what seemed like an eternity ago he had rescued Johannia in the service of Bishop Karyn, who had long awaited a savior who could save the Church. He left her not soon after, but he had not disappeared. He had eventually made his way to Telmarion, and now he was gathering holy warriors in the coming fight. He had made contact with Fenick, who was the leader of the faithful up in Uzgob. With his help they might be able to create a rebellion that could succeed, if the remnants of the Manshrew alliance came back in time. Fenick told him that that was what their success hinged on.
In a sleepy town in Glarmion Dietrich had decided to make the home of his rebels. So far, they had been able to make themselves unseen. They traveled in small groups yet kept in constant contact with each other. They had come together rapidly, and ever since the defeat of Andris Mandarass more and more had been coming to them. Dietrich entered into the inn, and entered into a back room where there was a man covered in a green cloak, hiding his armor. 
“Raimbaud,” Dietrich said in a somewhat hushed voice. “You’ve returned. How many have you found this time.”
“Fifty. Not bad for so short of a time,” Raimbaud said. “It’s only a matter of time now. Soon, the lands of the alliance shall rise in rebellion against the de Reimers, Andris Mandarass shall return to take what is rightfully his, and I shall take my birthright in Issaria.”
“Even if Mandarass and the Alliance do manage to return, they will not be able to dislodge the de Reimers from Nyhem anymore,” Dietrich said. “We should only plan for how to hold the east and keep the Blackwells out of it.”
“Forces that Alasdair cannot hope to contain have been released,” Dietrich said. “And when that happens Issaria shall be mine, and both Lycaon and my father shall not live to see it.”
“Enough of that, Raimbaud,” Dietrich said. “I thank you for your service, and I will see you again soon. If anything happens that you feel compelled to tell me, you know where to find me.”
In truth, Dietrich despised Raimbaud. According to Raimbaud, his birthright had been stolen from him by his brother Lycaon, and he even dared to tell Dietrich this. However, Dietrich knew the truth of the matter. He had been there, after all, when it had all occurred. Raimbaud was the younger brother, and he was also envious, ambitious, and thoroughly shameless. He hired a man to assassinate Lycaon, but Lycaon called the guards in time. Raimbaud ran when the truth was discovered and had been a bandit and cutthroat in the east ever since. Dietrich guessed that Raimbaud only became a follower of Johannia because he thought he could get something out of it. However, he could never regain Issaria, even if his father and Lycaon died. Though Lord Issarot had refused to disown him out of familial loyalty, the du Paraquettes would never allow him to return. Dietrich hated him, and if he could would have killed him, but he was too effective at collecting new followers for Dietrich to be rid of him. If his true identity was ever discovered, however, it would probably scandalize the entire Johannite movement. The fact that Raimbaud was constantly yelling about his birthright didn’t help in that matter.
Sighing, Dietrich left all of those thoughts behind. 
[/hider]
[hider=A Letter Received]
Lost in thought, Glynda lightly tapped upon her desk. Her meeting with the High Priest had been mostly pointless but at least short. It was just then that someone came knocking at her door.
“Enter,” Ser Glynda said.
It was one of the knights of the letter, with something in her hand.
“A little, ser,” the knight said, bowing his head.
“Put it over here,” Ser Glynda said. “Thank you.”
It had come sooner than she had been expecting. Once the knight had left and closed the door behind him Glynda opened up the envelope. There were actually two letters. One was official, and of no importance. The second one, however, was a different story. Glynda carefully read over it, and then set both letters down on top of the desk. She donned her sword and shield and stepped out from her office.
“Come with me,” Glynda said to her two bodyguards. “I have to tell the drillmaster of a small problem.”
Many of the Holy Order were away. Ser Sayer had brought his recruits from the east back east in order to combat the heretics. Lycaon had taken the elite of the Order with him. However, many of the Holy Order had remained in Nyhem, and Glynda had a sizeable garrison at her command. They would be more than adequate to deal with this mission. Glynda went to the courtyard, where the drillmasters were overseeing the soldiers’ training and practice. Glynda approached her chief drillmaster and told her that she would be needing one-hundred and twenty men, divided into ten dozen-men squadrons. Glynda gathered with the twelve sergeants who would lead her twelve squadrons and told them where they would be searching. Then she had her soldiers gather. When they were gathered Glynda stood at the head of them. 
“Attention men!” Glynda said. “I have a job for you. A friend of ours has gone missing. Lady Lanaya Dionisia has gone missing. You are going to find her. It is an unfortunate fact that we have no idea where she is, or where she was last seen. Each of you shall collect any information you can about her whereabouts. Your commanding officers will show you what districts you will search.”
The recruits were raw, and eager for an exciting assignment. Of course, As for Glynda herself, she would have to remain here to hear their reports when they returned. Most of the time, anyways. She wondered if the Emperor had heard that she was missing. He must have noticed that one of his top advisors had been gone for days. She thought perhaps that she should write another letter to him, just in case. And perhaps she should return to Lady Dionisia’s place of residence, to see if the servants there knew anything. It would be useful to know if she had any notable enemies.
[/hider]