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About ten klicks from the neodymium mine, Hugh suppressed a chuckle as he lowered his rangefinder binoculars, allowing them to dangle carelessly from a lanyard around his neck. All that manpower and gear on the side of those red bastards and yet not a single one of them noticed little old him lurking in the bushes, in that weather, watching the whole shebang go down. Come to think of it, neither did the Green Knight mercs, but that could be chalked up to them not being from here. While the rebel hated the NPDRE with a vengeance, as a fellow Espian he couldn't help but cringe with embarrassment on their behalf for not knowing as well as they should the lay of the land. [i]Their[/i] land. Just as well though, or else they might've carried the day or tracked the Green Knights back to their base – terrifying prospects both.

But why though? Could it be that stomping and rolling around virtually unopposed with all that firepower at their disposal simply got to their heads?

Or maybe – just maybe – despite all that jingoistic “all-Espian” propaganda they've been putting out always and everywhere since taking power, not everyone fighting on the side of the NPDRE are actually Espians?

Those questions and others like them are better pondered over a nice stiff drink and in the company of like-minded people, Hugh thought as he remembered the Mason jar by his side, with its now dog-eared and faded green knight label. The empty jar and the rangefinders were the only things he carried with him after stashing his [i]Lumberjack[/i] in the woods some distance away; after all, it stands to reason that the offworlders would be mighty suspicious of an unfamiliar native like him waltzing into their hideout just like that, not to mention still having some really itchy trigger fingers right after their sortie, common enemies notwithstanding. Not packing weapons of any kind might improve his chances of making it through without getting roughed up, or worse.

Hugh picked up the jar as he got up from his crouch and made his way to the mine, grinning at the thought that whoever made the hooch to sell on the black market must've done so on the sly, meaning he won't be the only one in hot water at the end of the day.

Arriving at the entrance, Hugh placed the Mason jar visibly at his feet then put his hands up in the air. [color=fff200]“Hello? Anyone home?”[/color] the Espian called out. [color=fff200]“I'm looking to buy some of this fine moonshine right here, heard you people happen to be making some.”[/color]