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[center][h1]Chapter 0: Prologue[/h1][/center][hr]

Plenmos 21, 5061 

It is a cool, windy day in southeastern Nepharie. An eastward wind blows across the soft, gently-rolling plains, rustling the leaves of the sycamore trees and turning the long golden grass into a stormy sea. A roaring gust catches the sloped wall of a canvas tent, rattling the structure. Within the tent, Captain Adam Bradshaw awakens. He groans, his back sore from sleeping in a bedroll on the hard ground, his short black hair and beard a wild mess. Slowly, he rolls to his hands and knees, rises up, and opens the weighted flaps of the tent. It is dawn, and orange light is pouring over the horizon like a flood. Adam blinks in the sunlight and listens to the quiet of the morning: wind rushing across wide grasslands. In the distance, a mourning dove coos from a tree. Swallows excitedly flit across the empty sky, swift as darts as they cut swirling patterns through the air. Adam sighs. Now, the day is beautiful, but later, he knows, it will be soaked with blood. 

Slowly, the camp comes to life, folks awakening and preparing for the day. Adam retreats into his tent and dresses; he pulls on a padded, long-sleeved tunic and a pair of trousers, then dons the same hauberk of chain mail he has worn for ten years. It weighs heavy on his shoulders, but it brings him comfort, like a weighted blanket. He pulls on armored greaves and laces them, fastens the leather straps of his pauldrons across his chest. He pulls on rerebraces, fitted to his bicep musculature but in need of adjusting with leather cords, then couters, and finally plated gauntlets. As his fingers slide into the chain mail gloves covered with plate, he makes his hand into a fist. Nothing grants the feeling of invulnerability more than a fist of metal. 

With that, Adam runs through his hair and beard with a fine-toothed comb and brushes his teeth with a frayed stick and crushed cloves. Prepared for the day, he steps out into a camp brimming with activity. Emrys, the quartermaster, sits around a cauldron of beans over the fire, ladling out bowls-full to each mercenary. As Adam walks towards the [url=https://medieval-treasures.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/04/dm.jpg]meeting-tent[/url], wide and high-ceilinged, with a large wooden table and chairs within, he salutes to his fellow soldiers wordlessly. He takes a bowl of beans and a spoon from Emrys with a smile and sits down at the head of the table. Slowly, the other soldiers file in one by one, and the day's tactics meeting beings. 

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[i]"A band of highwaymen have recently wrought a reign of terror down upon the main road between Nepharie and Jikari, disrupting trade between the two nations and causing panic in the local villagers. Bloated by their success, the bandits invaded a local guard tower, killing the men responsible for defending the road and assuming it as their base. The Imperial Governor requires your immediate assistance in bringing these bandits to justice— dead or alive. [/i][/center]

[hider=Battle Planning][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kfaOHoDqeTQ[/youtube][/hider]

Captain Bradshaw glowered down at a map setting upon a wooden table in the center of the Iron Pride's meeting tent. He sat at the head of the table, head resting upon his right fist. By now, the rest of the company had arrived for the morning's meeting and was finishing up their breakfast. Across the table from Adam, on the opposite end, sat Amelia, who sipped from a wineskin to wash down her breakfast. Amelia was not a planner— she seldom found anything to contribute in meetings such as these, and from time to time wished she could spend the morning sleeping or training instead of staring at a map. Yet, here she was, frowning over a half-eaten bowl of beans and blinking the sleep from her eyes. She didn't know how her father [i]did[/i] mornings. 

After a few moments of silence, Adam spoke up: 

"Hope you've all had a good morning," He said. "As you've all been briefed previously, we're being called today to retake a watchtower guarding the trade route between Nepharie and Jikari. It's been taken by a gang of highwaymen, your usual bandit punkery, and is now being used as a base of operations. Considering the gravity of their crimes, the Nepharie government has branded these folk [i]extra legem[/i], so feel free to kill if you have to. Scouts from the local governor have provided us a map of the local area." Adam gestured towards the map in the center of the table with an open, metal-covered hand. 

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"Each square upon the map is roughly fifty feet," Adam continued. "From our reconnaissance, we've identified eight external guardsmen, though we know there's a ninth, a captain, within the tower. Normally, four of those men travel down to the road to ambush carts, but the governor has instituted roadblocks up and downstream of the area to prevent collateral damage to merchants or citizens. The four men atop the tower have crossbows, most likely taken from the stock within the watchtower, while the four at the bottom have three boar-spears and one hatchet. These are not exactly knights of the realm we're up against." Amelia snorted from the other side of the table. Adam couldn't help but smile slightly. 

"Now, as usual, we like our tactics planning to be a [i]collaborative[/i] effort, so let's get some input here." Adam said, leaning back in his chair.