Baron Werholdt cursed his thrice-damned luck. If he did not hurry, it would all fall apart at the seams.

He rode at the head of four hundred halberdiers, his personal guard on chargers and riflemen set up on the flanks. His steward had summoned his forces with impressive speed, but he was still on the back end. That princely captain and his motley crew of miscreants had risen before the dawn and set out with speed. Werholdt had thought he would catch them on the moors, but somehow they had covered the bog as if they had flown, and they were now getting dangerously close to blackland territory, where no one save the dead dwelt. The forest around him was thick, the trees so old, some men whispered they were splintered from Athel Loren during the War of the Ancients.

His prized steed Magnus knickered, stamping out of step momentarily as if he caught a foul wind on the air. A number of other horses did as well, and their riders weren't too enthused about the whole affair either. He would have to ask Ludenburg how he managed to keep an outfit in this wilderness.

"Easy men!" Captain Fridolf cautioned the troops. The trees seemed to absorb the sound, the words sounding almost too heavy to carry. Werholdt spun in his horse and glared at his second, snapping at him. "Be quiet!"

Despite the thick trees, it was eerie they heard no sounds ahead. Ludenburg and that upstart Kayden had to have come to battle now. Perhaps the clash of steel would have not traveled far, but the blackpowder weapons surely would have. It was driving the baron mad!

It had all been so simple. He could make a killing by taxing Baron Adelbert's caravans through the pass, publicly dismissing his reserve men to show his goodwill from the rising tensions, and secretly keeping them as bandits to raid Adelbert's caravans after they were taxed. Plausible deniability, control of the pass, extra income, it was all perfect! But then the Grey Mountains had to belch forth the Wyvern Company, and Adelbert had to get them to mediate the problem. Werholdt had no choice but to "hire" them to take out the bandits, and now that he had done so, he was going to find sergeant Ludenburg and help him crush this nuisance. In the forest, there would be no witnesses. Hardly any of the rangers even came this far. A few of the Dwarfen prospectors that came from the mountains told tales of strange happenings in the wastelands here. Ghosts in the hills, trees whispering to each other, mutated chaos giants, ghouls crawling out of endless catacombs wrought from Gorbad's invasion, and some even spoke of a black witch of terrible power. He hardly believed any of it, but the long march made the mind wander.

"My lord, the scouts have yet to return." Fridolf informed him.

"Yes, I am well aware of that, Captain. Why don't you go and find out why?" The Baron remarked derisively. All around him, he merely heard the sound of footsteps and horses snorting. He groaned and turned to Fridolf. "I said, why-" His words fell away when he saw Fridolf's corpse dragging along the ground, his foot snagged in his horse's stirrup. A long arrow protruding from his neck. Even as his eyes went up to the rest of his men, he saw a volley of arrows stream out of the trees of the upper embankment. They scythed into the men, punching into necks, faces, hips, and some even pierced the armor of their breastplates, albeit in the thinner sections of the side. He was so aghast, his men began to yell before he could even begin to speak. He found his lungs at the second volley, drawing his sword.

"Form up you whoresons!" He cried, but by then his riflemen had already begun to fire sporadically into the treeline. Perhaps it was his imagination, but there were sparks of flame and plumes of smoke on the opposite end of the road as well, to the south. His sergeants began to bellow orders, calling the men into formation as the onslaught continued. What swordsmen he had raised their bucklers, and the halberdiers had formed into lines so they might charge, but even as they tried to move, men fell in the midst of their ranks from a resounding boom out of the treeline. Grapeshot!

The shouts of men and cries of the dying was drowned out by a foreboding, sonorous horn. The Baron wheeled his cavaliers around with a raising of his sword, his knights gathering to him roughly as an eclectic assortment of men with shields of brass, the symbol of a crimson wyvern emblazoned on them, charged into the fray. At their head was a massive dwarf, armored head to toe and wielding a large axe it would take a team of men to handle. Werholdt was about to cry for his men to charge, when he felt a pressure in his back, something jerking him forward. He looked down, and saw a neat hole having gone through his breastplate. Damn Versignon, that bastard had promised him the bloody thing was bulletproof! He managed to glance behind him, to see men with pikes and skirmishers with pistols step out. They bore forest colored surcoats, but their standard was the same brass and crimson. The only one not in standard regalia was a striking, princely figure in dark blue and mail, with a sidesword in one hand and a pistol in the other. He looked built for court rather than battle, but there was a hardness to his eyes. He had done this before.

"Myrmidia! For the Wyverns!" He roared as he blocked a thrust by a spearman and cut down the baron's man with a swift riposte of his sharp sword.

"Damn this whole thing to hell," Werholdt tried to say, but it only came out as a whisper. He lost balance, teetering off his horse, and darkness took him as his knights fled into the wilderness, overpaid and overvalued.

---

3 days later...

"And he fought valiantly, slaying the bandit leader himself, in fact." Kayden added pointedly, clapping the wounded baron on the shoulder.

Werholdt was stricken with pain, but he gave a pained, fake grin to better sell the story. The summit had convened as soon as was applicable, which in turn happened to be right after Werholdt had been patched up, a blade put to his neck, and an ultimatum made and settled. The three leaders sat in a small pavilion, under a flag of truce, once again uncomfortably near the wastelands but this time, on an open field with a mixture of forces waiting outside. Under the scrutinizing eyes of Baron Adelbert, Werholdt had relayed the tale, with Kayden added in smooth additions to the narrative whenever the captain felt prudent.

Evidently, the Wyverns had sorely pressed the brigands under the terrible Ludenburg, who had apparently taken up to banditry once his contracts with Werholdt had been terminated. Wishing to see the deed done, Baron Werhold and his men had valiantly gone to the aid of Kayden and the Wyverns, halting Ludenburg's escape. The Baron and the Bandit Captain had faced one another, old friends turned enemies, a traitor and a true son of the empire, and under the canopy of the dark forest they had clashed blades until Werholdt had taken his head. The cur had even shot Werholdt, breaking the terms of the duel, but the Baron had gritted his teeth and powered through with his faith and steel.

All horseshit, of course. But to both keep his head and reputation, and since the Wyverns had finished the contract and sniffed a betrayal by the bastard Werholdt, they had tripled the price of the original contract and were given provisions for another fortnight. Adelbelt need not worry about the "bandits" anymore, and Werholdt got to be hero, while the Wyverns did the dirty work. Kayden wanted to make a reputation, but the money had been more important. The trek through the mountains had been perilous, and some of the money had been lost. He had been afraid he had no funds left to pay the men the next season, but now he had some breathing room in that regard.

"I misjudged you," Lord Adelbert said to his rival, inclining his head slightly. It was hard to say if he believed all of it, but clearly at least part of the tale had been sold to him.

"Think nothing of it," Werholdt croaked through the fresh wound, waving him off. Adelbert turned to Kayden, smiling a smile that spread his grey mustache.

"You as well, my boy. You do tight work. I'll remember that."

Kayden returned the smile, and gave them both a courtly bow. "Thank you, my lords. It has been my esteemed pleasure to have worked under the service of such fine march wardens of the Empire. If you'll excuse me, however, I must see to my men."

"Of course."

Kayden stepped out of the pavilion, the Halberdiers standing at attention glancing at him appraisingly. Kayden ignored them, seeing his oldest friend across the short pathway to another tent. Morek the Ironbreaker enjoyed a pipe, leaning against a crate and blowing rings at small intervals. When the dawi saw Kayden, he raised his pipe to him. Kayden motioned for him to follow, and the two stepped past the quartermaster and his clerks hurrying along and various guards going about their business, making it to their side of the large camp where Kayden could finally relax.

"Count the gold?" He asked the dwarf. Morek gave a 'hrmmph' as a response. That meant yes, in his experience. "And we're good?" He asked. Morek gave a wave of his hand, tilting his head. That usually translated for 'for now.' But they had many miles before there was someone else with any real contracts. There was little but deadlands from here, other than the occasional farmstead or inn on the traderoad. Maybe a hundred kilometers of marching before they truly made it into Wissenland, and then the men would earn a place to spend their coins, and it would start all over again.

The two were halted in their camp by a short, plump woman wearing a kettle helm too big for her head. On her back was a crossbow, and she gave a crisp salute, despite the helm obscuring her vision. "Captain Kayden, sir!"

"Yes, Merie?" He asked the halfling. Before she could speak, he raised a hand. "At ease."

She lowered her hand and raised the helm off her head so she could see. "Erm, there's a visitor for you sir. He came in by a Black Coach. He says he has a contract for us..."

Kayden and Morek met the man, a tall fellow with a civilized bearing. Kayden could not place his accent, but despite himself, the vague promises and shifty manner about his patron intrigued him. He took a change of clothes and a wash of his face, and stepped into the black coach after some small deliberation. They had money now, but it would dry up soon, and whatever this was about, Kayden had always gained victory through audacity.

Gallows End had never been a magnificent estate. These orc haunted marches grew few such, rearing instead a crop of keeps, fortified manors and walled towns. The Black Coach, a splendid construction of carved and lacquered wood and red velvet wound it’s way up into the foot hills, its iron bound wheels sparking on the flint packed road, drawing the mercenaries through a pair of ancient standing stones that had once been the lintels of great iron gates, recognizable only by the rust stains that marred the rock. A stream ran alongside the road, gurgling over a rocky bed, clear and cold out of the mountains. They passed overgrown orchards where towering cherries reached mournfully into the sky and through groves of overgrown apples with shriveled unwholesome looking fruit. There was no sign of habitation beyond the half tumbledown stone walls and an old mill half collapsing into the stream.

The coach driver, who had reluctantly identified himself as Johan Mesmer, was taciturn to the point of rudeness, answering in simple yes or no if a grunt would not suffice. Was he taking them to meet a prospective Patron? Yes. Was it far? No. Would they be there by nightfall? Yes. Would he tell them their host's name? No and other such anti-conversation. Mesmer had the look of a civilized man, perhaps a down on his heels nobleman or a burgher who took little pleasure in wealth. He dressed in black and had a shortsword and what looked to be a hunting rifle wrapped in an oilskin which he kept beside him on the drivers bench. The two black horses which drew the coach seemed to have little need of his instruction, for though he held the reigns he was never once observed to draw or snap them.

The sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains, casting long dagger shaped shadows by the time they reached the house itself. They approached along a paved pathway, enough disturbed by the action of grass and tree root to make even their modest pace bumpy and uncomfortable. Vast dead oaks flanked the path, each one bearing marks of having been struck by lightning in the distant past. Piles of branches to either side showed that the path had been cleared in more recent times, though no effort had been made to do more than toss the lumber into rough piles. The house itself had once been grand but like everything else it seemed to have fallen into a state of some decay. It had a long ivy covered frontage and a forecourt which held a statue of Sigmar, hammer razed, divine dignity somewhat diminished by the fact that time had robbed him of a nose. The statue had been intended as a fountain, though the basin was now filled with brackish rain water topped with floating leaves. The house had two main floors and had once had taller towers on each end. One of the towers was collapsed now, blackened and burned. This gave the other tower a more sinister air, as though it were that of a snake rearing up to scent its prey. A suggestion further exaggerated by the fact that the only light in the gathering darkness was from windows on the top floor of the tower that resembled faintly purple eyes.
“Whoa,” Mesmer announced as they coach reached a small stable by the side of the house. This, at last, showed signs of repair, its roof recently reshingled and its stalls repaired. Fresh hay had been stacked by the far wall. Two horses were in the stalls. A black stallion and a great warhorse of dark dappled grey. Both beasts watched the newcomers with flat, uninterested eyes. Mesmer covered the butt of the rifle with a flap of the cloth and climbed down to lower the stairs for the guests. Kayden and Morek stepped down, feeling the cold wind whip around them.

“Does the master of this place have no servants?” Kayden asked, no doubt concerned about the ability of anyone who lived in such a place to pay the fees he hoped to extract.

“She does not,” A voice said from the ornate, gargoyle flanked portico that marked the entrance. Kayden and Morek turned to see a striking woman in a black dress regarding them with dark eyes. By any standard she was beautiful, though perhaps a little thinner than was the fashion in the Imperial Capital, and she wore no make up to enhance the angular lines of her face. Her little cupids bow mouth was set in an expression of neutrality and her dark hair was pulled back into a severe braid that was coiled behind her head. The silk of her dress was fine and she wore a cape of what appeared to be crow or raven feathers. A necklace of thumb sized amethysts hung around her throat and bands of engraved silver encircled both her wrists. A ring of black stone encircled her left little finger, set with a piece of polished onyx instead of a gemstone.

Unbidden, Mesmer crossed to her and genuflected. She reached out a hand and placed it on his head. The air seemed to grow dry for a few seconds and starlight flashed off the gemstones in the woman’s necklace. Mesmer muttered something then stood. The pale unhealthy look had gone from his skin and he seemed a decade younger, somehow more vital.

“I am Calliope Blackwood and you are welcome in my house. I have heard much about you Captain, and I hope we may come to some arrangement, but let us talk of such things in comfort.”

_____________

Calliope led them through dusty rooms and abandoned parlors until they reached the base of the tower. Here at last were signs of repair. A large sitting room had been cleaned, and the furniture within gleamed. A respectable liquor cabinet sat against one wall and a massive portrait of a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Calliope dominated another.

“You will have to forgive the state of things,” Calliope told Kayden as she took a seat on a settee chair. Mesmer crossed the cabinets and opened a bottle of wine, pouring glasses for his mistress and for the new comers which he presented on a silver tray.

“This seat has been in my family for many years, but the seat of our power is in Brannerburg in Averland,” she admitted, taking the drink and sipping dark rich wine from the goblet. Brannerburg was on the Sylvanian border, at the corner of Averland, The Moot, and the Cursed Province. A slight narrowing of Calliope’s eyes suggested this was a sensitive topic. Her worthless uncle had schemed to take the place, bullying and bribing the local clergy into recognising his fabricated claims and denouncing her to the Witch Hunters to prevent her from contesting it. She suspected that any legal right she had to Gallows End came from the fact that he had forgotten it even existed. Still, it had proved an adequate retreat to resettle too, far from the eyes of prying Witch Hunters.

“Your reputation precedes you Captain, but before we get to business have you dined? Mesmer here is a man of hidden talents, and I am sure we can provide you with whatever you might like?”

@POOHEAD189

The longer the trip had been, the less confident he was that he had made the right decision to come. Morek had insisted on coming with him, something that usually boosted his confidence. But even Morek was mortal, and Kayden had felt the use of magic in the air before. It caused the hairs on his arm and neck to rise and twisted his stomach. When Mesmer had finally halted the coach, Kayden and Morek were greeted by what a poet might refer to as a Black Rose. He knew he was meeting a noblewoman. That in of itself was somewhat odd, usually any noblewoman who wished to meet him did so on behalf of her husband, or to beg Kayden and his mercenaries to come to a family member's aid. Calliope Blackwood, whatever she had in mind, was not a simpering beggar. She was certainly not what he expected. She had none of the bovine stupidity that was usually written on the faces of provincial nobles, nor was she plump as a pidgeon like the more wealthy noblewomen. She looked hard, and sharp and fierce as a black serpent. There was something predatory in her beauty, but she was beautiful none the less.

Gallow's End looked much like something out of a madman's nightmare, but money did funny things to men (and dwarfs). He allowed himself to be escorted inside, preparing for the inevitable request to give up their arms, but to his surprise it never came. After finally settling down once he had taken a long look at the baroque inner tower, he took the wine offered with a nod of thanks. Morek had not deigned to sit, and when he grabbed the beverage, he sniffed it like a hound.

Kayden took a generous sip, and pondered for a moment. "Bilbali?" He inquired, allowing the taste to linger. "No, Frizzante."

"You know your wines, Captain." Lady Blackwood replied, a small measure of approval in her eyes. "But is it from Campogrotta or Alimento?"

"I am afraid that is a bit beyond my knowledge," Kayden admitted with a smile. Meanwhile, Morek had drained the whole glass and placed the cup back on the silver tray Mesmer had once again lowered. Luckily neither of them had been stricken from some poison. He had once had the pleasure of gazing at Lucrezzia Belladonna, princess of Pavona and reputedly one of the most gorgeous woman in the old world, and a master of poisons and intrigue. Ever since then, meeting an attractive woman in a clandestine location always had him properly paranoid.

"Mesmer, see to it these gentlemen are fed. Captain Caladwarden? Might your companion eat in the dining room? I wish to speak to you privately."

"You may call me Captain if I am hired, for now I am simply herr Caladwarden." He bade her, as his stout companion looked at her skeptically. "I keep no secrets from Morek, either."

"You misunderstand me. I know the honor of the Dwarfs, I know he would not speak if he swore he would not. However, in my experience it is best to negotiate one on one. Old habits, you'll forgive me." She said. Kayden looked to Morek, who's face was unreadable. When he looked back, he saw a faintly amused smile on Lady Blackwood's face. It was like seeing a crocodile grin. "I mean you no harm, herr Caladwarden." She assured him. Kayden was not so certain, she looked like she could do him a great deal of harm if she so wished. But he acquiesced, and nodded for Morek to step outside. Morek did so, and Kayden patted Mesmer's arm as he turned to escort the dwarf.

"Keep the beer and food coming and he'll be well behaved," Kayden joked. He expected a wan or tight lipped smile, but Mesmer gave no indication he even registered the comment. When the door closed behind them, Kayden gave one last glance at it before turning back to the noblewoman. "He's very dour."

"Worry not on him," She said, sipping her wine delicately. She cleared her throat and set the glass down on the table, crossing her legs. "Now, I understand you have many questions for me, but I have a few for you before we get down to business, if you would humor me." Kayden felt a bit sardonic at his predicament. Meeting a beautiful woman in the middle of a tower fit for a Sylvanian cultist who wished to speak to him alone with a terrible secret. He felt as if he were thrust into a Detlef Sierck melodrama. "Something funny, herr Caladwarden?"

"No, forgive me." He assured her, setting his own wine glass down. "It's somewhat irregular, but I can answer your questions to the best of my ability."

That pleased her. "Very good. You have been on campaign in both Tilea and Estalia, yes?"

"Yes, though the Border Princes is where my outfit began." He confessed. When he accrued enough funds, he was planning on returning to right a few wrongs and create his own principality, but that was far in the future. "I have visited araby, but I have not campaigned there."

"Have you ever been to the Empire?" She inquired.

"Twice, but not as a mercenary. Both times I visited Altdorf, though once I traveled through Carroburg from Marienburg." He said. "I visited the Altdorf academy, and had a brief interaction with a lecturer named Osmund Hoerhoffen."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes in a way that made it plain it was not directed at Kayden. "That boorish charlatan. Let me guess, he argued the treatise of Heironymous Leitdorf in the Imperial Script showcases a better understanding of history than Halten's work written in Classical."

"We began to debate on the greatest military commanders in the Old World, and after an hour he refused to speak me because of my 'Neo-Classical mind and Verenian Tongue,' he put it."

"Do you prefer Classical to the Imperial?" She asked him, now sipping her wine again, though her eyes bored into him.

"I do." He admitted. "I understand Imperial grants a wider audience, but the works should be preserved in their original script to better understand the nuances."

"Very good," She replied, placing down her empty glass. Kayden reached up to toy with his earring as he regarded her. It was at that moment Mesmer walked in with a silver tray of steaming goose, the spices pungent even by the door. Despite himself, he felt his mouth water in anticipation. Mesmer did not deign to look at him, merely lowering the tray and giving a low bow to the Lady Blackwood, before walking out as silently as he had entered. Kayden helped himself, cutting off strips to place on his porcelain dish.

"How many men are under your command?" She asked. Kayden swallowed what he had eaten before answering.

"Five hundred and eighty seven."

"My reports tell me your men use longbows rather than crossbows or rifles." She stated. "As well as pikes rather than halberds, and very little cavalry."

"We have a few riflemen and crossbowmen, but longbowmen can loose quicker, with nearly as much punch, and the enemy does not know they're there until we're volleyed thrice." He said, somewhat defensively. "Pikes are the Tilean fashion. And we have four dozen freebooters with swords and pistols. Perhaps we can gain heavy cavalry after our numbers grow, but so far we have done well enough without."

"And you have women in your ranks?" The last word ending in a sibilant hiss.

He wondered how she knew. "About forty. Anyone who has the skill and courage can join."

It amused Calliope that Kayden appeared to be a cultured and erudite man. In her experience the best purveyors of violence tended to come from the lower strata of society but she had been watching Kayden since he arrived in the region and he and his company seemed as though they would suit her purposes.
“Heavy Cavalry will not be required for what I wish of you, not at first anyway,” she continued. As if on queue the door flew open and a heavily armored man tramped in, plate armor and chainmail clattering. He was tall and powerfully built, with a shaved head and heavy mustache. He wore a black enameled shield across his back, quartered with a crimson rose and three golden rings. A cape of silver trimmed black swished behind him. He bowed deeply to Calliope, a feat arousing much clattering.

“My lady,” he said in a deep gravely voice, then reached into the throat of his armor and produced a rolled scroll with a red wax seal. He passed it to Calliope who broke the seal and glanced over the contents.

“Very good Sir Knight,” she approved, and tucked the paper into a pouch.

“Kayden Caradwalden, this is Sir Otto Van Draken, the commander of my retainers,” she introduced. Van Draken performed a formal bow, his eyes speculative.

“A pleasure,” he replied with the clipped accent of a Riekland gentleman. Kayden stood and offered his own bow before turning to Calliope.

“Retainers, My Lady? We saw no one when we arrived, besides your man of course.” Calliope made an airy gesture to encompass Otto.

“I have eighteen knights with me, men who accompanied me when I was obliged to relocate here from Altdorf. They are just returning now from their own errand,” she explained.

“Is it altogether wise to leave yourself undefended in such perilous country?” Kayden asked. Otto chuckled slightly and Calliope smiled.

“I am in no danger here, and the errand was one which required my men. I trust there was no difficulty Otto?” Calliope asked, the knight shook his head and poured himself a glass of brandy.

“None lady, though there were some questions about it, legal questions,” he replied, cutting his eyes towards Kayden. Calliope made a negligent gesture as though this was of no import.

“Herr Rutiger made very certain to have everything sworn in front of the Temple Clark,” Otto continued. “He said that if the terms were not fulfilled he would invoke the secular and religious authorities.” Calliope’s smile, already satisfied, became downright predatory.

“Oh I am sure he will,” she agreed enigmatically.

“Now that we have sufficiently established our cultural pedigrees, I think we can move on to business,” she told the mercenary captain. She fixed Otto with a look and nodded for him to depart. Otto set his mouth in a frown but bowed and departed, brandy in hand.

“Knights, so you have your own cavalry then?” Kayden asked. Calliope shrugged as though this were of little import.

“Family retainers for the most part, enough to escort me and look after my needs, but not enough for what I need. I have several tasks that I require, the first of which is to retake a mine that belongs to my family. Silverhill, a rather uninspired name I know.” She snapped her fingers and Mesmer appeared and spread out a map on the table, pinning the edges with an inkwell and glasses. She traced her finger up a road on the map, following the curve of the valley until it mounted into some low hills.

“Greenskins apparently,” she explained, shaking her head in dissapointment at the universe.

"You're right, heavy cavalry would not be too useful." Kayden reasoned in good humor. Otto seemed somewhat affronted, but he ignored the man. This meeting was somehow both more pleasant and less so than his usual dealings with nobles. She was straight forward, intelligent, attractive, but something did not sit right with him. Still, he would not back out of a meeting for something as trivial as what was likely the unfamiliar sensation of food in his stomach, and he traced his finger over the map. "I assume these greenskins are in the mine?"

"A problem?" She inquired.

Potentially, he thought. It would depend on the greenskins, and on the length of the mine. Morek had been a tunnel fighter before leaving Karak Bhufdar, and a number of his men had fought against goblins underground, and the vile ratmen the imperials seemed to believe were myth. "It is not our usual mode of fighting. Longbows and pikes don't do well in such places, as you imagine. But I do have some experts, and my men are nothing if not resourceful. Do you have a map of Silverhill's layout?"

"I have it readied in a dossier for after the meeting is concluded. However, I think we are now at the junction of discussing price. I would like to hire you and your men for a month's services. After that, I will evaluate your results and we can renegotiate another contract if need be, does that sound adequate?"

"So far," He said, noticing she had not offered a price yet. As if she had read his mind, her eyes met his and she leaned back, opening her hand so Mesmer could place a rolled up parchment in it.

"We don't accept banking writs," He joked.

"You impudent-" Otto began, reaching for the hilt of his sword. Calliope held her hand up to stay his blade.

"This is merely the contract," she chuckled, extending it to him. He took it gingerly and unrolled the parchment. Kayden blinked. He could have sworn he saw Calliope Blackwood's name appearing in black ink at the bottom of the page. No, no it had to have always been there. "I am prepared to pay you and your men five thousand and seven hundred shillings, and twenty three hundred gold krowns for the month of Pflugzeit, beginning this day and ending on the fifth day of Sigmarzeit."

He looked away from the parchment to see an ink and a quill having appeared at his side of the table. Mesmer had not moved an inch from behind Calliope's shoulder, the lady watching him like a cobra. He hesitated for a brief moment, biting his tongue. "Usually I would negotiate and press you for more funds," He admitted. "It is not good business for me to accept the initial offership of payment. However, we are very new in the Empire, and we require work for reputation as much as coin. Five thousand and seven hundred shillings, and twenty three hundred gold krowns will suffice for myself and my men."

As he wrote his name down, her smile widened. "I will not forget this charity, Captain." She replied, a dark promise on her lips.

“Excellent, how long do you anticipate it will take you to move your men to the mine?” Calliope asked, gesturing towards the map with her chin.

“Three days, two and a half if we push,” Kayden answered without hesitation, proving he had already considered the logistics. Calliope nodded and stood up, unpinning the map and allowing it to roll up. Mesmer snatched it up and retied the twine which held it in its tube shape.

“Three days will be sufficient, four may even be better for my purposes,” Calliope replied. Kayden nodded his head.

“You have us for a month, you may have us march as quickly or as slowly as you like,” he told her, also coming to his feet.

“We shall return to your men in the morning, it is too late to travel and my knights are required here to defend me. In the morning we shall travel to your camp.”

“Otto, you and your men will accompany us and defend the strong box.” The knight made a gracious bow, though his face had not quite rid itself of its troubled expression.

“You understand that I will have final say on how my men are deployed of course, if you outline a task for us we will get it done but…” Kayden began but Calliope waved him to silence.

“Yes, yes, I have no designs on tactical command. I will need some of your men to remain to defend the mine once it is retaken, a smaller force to return me here, and a few of your… more colorful men for another task I shall explain later.”

“Defend the mine so you can take silver out of it or something?” Kayden queried.

“Or something,” Calliope agreed before changing the subject. “Johan, is dinner prepared?” The servant nodded his head.

“The stag was where you said it would be my Lady,” the squires have dressed and roasted it, I believe they found some vegetables in the old garden. Calliope made a face as though disappointed by food as plain as venison and vegetables.

“We shall have to see about renting out some of the land, once we are done with the masons,” Calliope said. Mesmer and Otto both nodded though the latter shook his head slightly and lifted his eyes as though his mistress were living in a fantasy land.

After dinner, which proved to be garnished liberal with roasted potatoes, carrots, and wild garlic, washed down with excellent wines. Calliope bade Kayden good night and provided both him and Morek with sleeping quarters, a pair of rather musty rooms not far from the base of the tower. She began to head up the stairs towards her own sanctum, eager to return to her own work now the business of the night was concluded. Otto accosted her at the bottom of the steps.

“My Lady, I must protest,” he began, casting a glance over his shoulder as though he suspected Kayden might be lurking. A raven fluttered in through one of the windows and landed on Calliope’s shoulder, tilting its head at the knight.

“Maasst you?” it cawed, as though attempting to mimic human speech. Otto twitched but didn’t recoil from the creature and the question it delivered on Calliope’s behalf.

“The gold you promised the sellsword… it is almost everything you have left,” he continued uncomfortably.

‘Yaaahs, tis,” the raven cawed. Otto’s face screwed up in frustration.

“How are you going to pay my men at the end of the month, we are loyal of course but we have expenses…”
Calliope reached out and laid a hand on Otto’s cheek. The knight flushed, unused to his mistress touching him but also excited by the novelty.

“I do not question your loyalty Otto…”

“Thank you my…” Calliope held up a hand, interrupting the knight.

“And I will thank you not to question my care for my household. I will see that you are paid, just as I will see myself restored to my rightful place.

“But how my Lady… how will you….”

“Goodnight Otto,” Calliope replied, her voice cold and firm. She turned and walked up the stairs without another word. The crow on her shoulder didn’t break eye contact with the knight until the stone work blocked its red eyed stare.

Braving the mountains, I had promised my men a bounty of gold and women on the other side. So far I had managed to provide some of the former, but the latter required us to make it to civilization to spend the gold. The Werholt fiasco notwithstanding, we had procured thrice the payment and had some easy sport. My lieutenants were in high spirits, and I knew I needed one more good contract to get us to pay season. I managed to find it, or it found me, with a black coach and an equally foreboding promise to a Lady Calliope Blackwood. A fair payment and an odd, albeit simple job was given to us. We had a pint of rum in our increasingly depleting stores, and marched the next four days to Silverhill. I had not expected Lady Blackwood to accompany us, but she saw fit to settle on my shoulder like a crow, and I could tell there was far more in store for us than this mundane task of greenskins.


At the pace they set, the journey to Silverhill should have pleasant by all accounts. No poor weather, open roads, scenic areas to camp. The men had started imagine Nuln or Averheim and their intrepid night lives once they could spend all this coin. We were fat and happy after an easy victory. However, while we had forgotten the land was cursed, the land itself had not. During our march, we would find dug up graves and trees sucked of vitality, seemingly at random. Every few miles, stone ruins or the blasted remains of some farmstead were discovered, and lodges that were inhabited held queer, superstitious folk that would sooner shoot us with a crossbow than trade with us. Some never unlatched their doors. On the second day, the sun high in the sky, I saw a hill overlooking a copse of trees we marched passed, a dread feeling on my mind. A pressure in my brow, and a small pain as if fingers pressed against the nerves. Upon the hill was a derelict, crumbled tower not unlike the decimated side of Gallow's End, and I saw a cloaked figure standing still beside the rubble. Somehow I knew it watched us, watched me. Never in my life I had felt more certain that eyes were on me, but when I blinked again, the figure was gone.

At night, what Lady Blackwood's Knights would swear on their life were bird calls and stags sounded more like the dead awakening and the lost souls calling to be let loose from this plane of reality. We slept when we could, but our guard was doubled. What we did not realize, was that while we watched for threats from without, the problems came from within. By the time we arrived at Silverhill, twenty men and three women had risen from their cots at night and simply walked out of the camp, and we never saw them again. By all accounts from their comrades, the day before they were their old selves, but something called to them in the woods. Kayden did not know what had led them to do such a thing, he wanted nothing to do with anything outside of the picket lines, but there was a siren's song that permeated the air of old Solland, and it took its toll on his men.

Luckily, they found the mountains by day four. Usually mountains were not the most welcome sight. They had very little strategic value save if one was to occupy a fortress, and they were often filled with barbarous creatures rather than verdant villas to plunder. Kayden doubted they could have made it there quicker, despite Lady Blackwood's claims. The reputation of the land had preceded it, and the men needed that extra day to rest if they were going to be any effective in the mine. Within the hour, he had called his lieutenants to together. Calliope joined them, lurking in the shadow at the back of the tent like a specter. Everyone was keen to keep their eyes off of her from her aura alone, except sergeant Neil, who needed to be called out twice to pay attention.

"Fletch, Pike, I need you two to take your men and set up a four kilometer-wide perimeter. Double up squads, keep your eyes peeled. I don't want anything living or dead to enter this camp without my express permission, understood?"

"Yes Captain," Fletch remarked with a salute.
"Not a problem, Cap." Pike said, saluting right after. Kayden dismissed them, and turned to the rest, who watched expectantly. Kayden unrolled an antiquated piece of parchment, and laid it out on the war table. Everyone leaned in, Morek quirking an eyebrow as Neil placed a monoscope on his eye to examine it more thoroughly. On his shoulders sat Merie, the halfling peering over his head with the telltale curiosity of the mootland people.

"This is the map the Lady Blackwood has provided us. I've already gone over it with Morek and Sketti. Unfortunately, Sketti ate some bad porridge last night and he currently has the shits, so that means sergeant Edwards is up." Kayden held a hand up before Neil could run his mouth. "Hold your questions until the end."

On the map was all three levels of the Silverhill mine, along with its three entrances all within a two mile stretch. Behind them was a wide, shallow thoroughfare in the rock that fed to each tunnel entrance, and beyond it was a series of sinuous caverns that snaked into the mountain before it dropped off into unexplored cavities in the stone, and to the south was a sheer drop in a chasm that might as well be endless. All in all, the mine covered twenty square kilometers, and they had around two hundred and fifty men, women, and dwarfs to spare.

"We're going to set you into temproary teams." Kayden told them, eyeing them to gauge their attentiveness. "Each team consists of two freebooters or rear guard, five from the bulwark, and two men from the linebreakers. That means they will be a team of nine, sometimes accompanied by one of us. No two dwarfs to a squad, we need as many across the board as we can spare. We go in defensive formation. If we find an area that is clear, we double back and announce it is clear. If we find dangerous area with toxic gas or the like, we come back and report it. There are no heroes underground. We step carefully, touch no wooden beams or parts, if you find greenskins that outnumber you, make a fighting retreat until you're bolstered by another force. On day one, we scout, perhaps even day two. By day three I want a more accurate depiction of this map, and by day four I want the greenskins out or turning tail to run. Neil, after two days, you can use whatever explosives Sketti and Morek allow you to. But not before. I'll leave the safety measures to Morek. Any questions beforehand?"

"What if we find something worse than an orc?" Cyrdic asked, granting an appreciative nod from the others.

"Kill it all the same." Morek responded, the first words in over a week. Cyrdic seemed satisfied with that.

"Speaking of explosives, I'm about to bust out of my pants, Captain." Neil said tightly, letting Merie drop to the floor in a huff. "Can I be excused?"

Kayden dropped his head, and he took that as permission. Cyrdic placed a palm to his face. "You keep saying that!" He called to him as the engineer walked out. "That's not what you say when you have to piss!"

---

The first eight hours of exploration left nothing except empty tunnels, devoid of both life and silver. Tunnel epsilon had been collapsed previously, but tunnels alpha, beta, gamma, delta, zeta, eta, theta, and iota were clear, unless some of Solland's ghosts had found ways to permeate the rock. By hour ten, Kayden wondered if the greenskins were still there. However, midnight that night, there were reports of skirmishes in the deep. Out of the twenty six squads, four came back to report combat with greenskins, mostly goblins. They were different than the gremlins one found in the woods. Some had iron balls hooked to huge chains and others wielded wicked scythes, their mail covered bodies clad in dark and pointed cloaks. However, a full day of fighting and the Wyverns had pushed them back, driving a score over the chasm and another two score had been killed by sword, axe, and pistol shot. Only five Wyverns had been killed, three of their bodies able to be collected for burial. It wasn't until near the end of day two, when nearly two squads were wiped out instantly. One simply had not reported back after four hours, and the squad sent after them came back with just two, a man and a woman. The man, a bulwark man, was in a state of mute shock. He could barely eat or drink. The woman, however, was a mercenary from Estalia. After she pulled the fellow out, she gave Sketti and Kayden an explanation. But Kayden didn't believe it.

"A moon? Underground?" Kayden repeated incredulously when Francesca had been taken to the medic. He shook his head. Lady Blackwood and the two dwarfs sat in the tent, the other lieutenants too busy keeping order or continuing the operation, albeit keeping the western tunnels free for the time being while the captain decided what to do. Apparently the moon had been in the shape of a goblin's visage, and green energy had spilled out of its mouth to eat his men alive. Maybe Francesca hadn't come out as unscathed as Kayden had thought.

"Said there was laughter behind the moon, too. In the dark." Morek reminded him.

"Grobi magic," Sketti spat. In fact, the very words did make him spit, as if it left a sour taste in his mouth. "We might need t' collapse that section. Leave it be, as much as I hate t' say it." It was clear he wanted to personally wring the neck of every goblin and orc down there.

"We can't, that's the central area." The Captain lamented, shaking his head. Magic or no, he needed to find a way to push through it. "If we don't take the western central tunnel, half the mine can't be reached. We need to think of something."

“My knights and I will handle it,” Calliope unexpectedly interjected. Conversation between the mercenaries couldn’t have been stopped more effectively if she had produced a pistol and shot Kayden through the heart. Everyone simultaneously reacted with some version of ‘no’ or ‘you cant’ but Calliope paid them no mind.

“My Lady,” Mesmer said in his odd cultured voice. “Sir Otto and the rest of the knights are scouring the hills for spies.” It was by far the longest sentence Kayden had ever heard Mesmer speak and he seemed to sense it, shrugging his shoulders defensively. Calliope’s eyes flashed with irritation.

“And who told him to do that?” she asked. Mesmer, apparently seeking to regain his speech economy, shrugged his shoulders. Calliope shook her head dismissing the matter.

“Johan, fetch my things,” she instructed the manservant, then turned to Kayden.

“I will need an escort, perhaps a half dozen men,” she ordered. Kayden made a face as though he had bitten into a lemon. Clearly the idea of his employer putting herself in danger did not appeal.

“We could send more men, no need for you to put yourself at risk,” he temporized.

“Done much tunnel fightin’ ave ye?” Morek demanded, “got some secret weapon that’ll send the grobbi scarperin’?”
“There are many kinds of combat master dwarf, and since I am paying for all this, let us not waste further time in debate. Mesmer was returning from Calliope’s horse across each shoulder he had a silk wrapped bundle, one bulky one slender.

“This is madness,” Kayden muttered under his breath. Two ravens who had been perched on the limb of a twisted apple tree cawed and began to croak. Maaaadnss Madddnns. Calliope arched an eyebrow and Kayden threw up his hands.

“Fine, I will come with you. Morek, pick a couple of…”

“Francesca and the dwarf should be sufficient,” Calliope cut in. “If it proves as perilous as the girl claims, we will fall back and wait for my men.” Calliope glared at the hills as if willing Otto and the rest of her knights to return, but while concerning, her ire wasn’t quite enough to force the hills to produce the errant men at arms.
The inside of the mines were an eerie place as the small group moved down the shafts. Francesca trembled violently until Calliope laid a hand on her shoulder. For some reason that seemed to calm the girl and she led them down through several chambers where the working had been done. Rusted rails and dilapidated equipment lay strewn about and the walls were covered with orcish glyphs and graffiti or an indecipherable but obviously crude nature.

“Manling miners are fools but I doubt even they could draw more ore from this rock,” Morek observed as they passed through a gutted chamber with an ancient pump house smashed half to kindling. Calliope ignored the observation, her eyes scanning the area.

“Not much further,” Francesca announced in a deathly calm, her eyes seeming almost to spark with amethyst light in the flickering illumination of the hurricane lamps. Mesmer paused and passed the thinner of the silk wrapped bundles to Calliope then drew the covering back from his own. It was a massive zweihander, a large two handed sword meant to dismember men and horses alike. The steel was blackened by some process of forging making it seem like he held a blade wrought of shadows in the lantern light.

“Great a sword tae big tae even swing in a mine,” Morek scoffed. Calliope pulled her own silk away, revealing a slender staff of dark ebony. A rough crystal had been set at its top, like the inside of a geode turned outwards, glistening purple. Odd runes had been carved into the wood and Calliope ran her fingers along them.

“And now we have a stick as well,” Morke grumped, though he sounded a little uncertain. Mesmer led the way down into the next chamber, a large cavern in which the destroyed pump station had allowed water to accumulate until it created a black lake split by a causeway of uncarved rock. The smell of blood and death announced that this was the chamber where it had happened even before they found the bodies, the bits of bodies anyway.

“Magic,” Kayden hissed and was answered with a demented cackle as an enormous goblin stepped out from behind a stalagmite. He held a staff in his hand, a twisted gnarled thing topped with a carved representation of a grinning moon, beside him two massive orcs lumbered, their eyes filmed as though blind from cataracts or some other condition. Despite this they held massive cleavers and wore armor that seemed to have been cobbled together from a variety of humans and dwarves.

“Gork and Mork, Mork and Gork, feast on their bones for they not orcs!” the goblin cackled. Almost faster than the eye could follow he leveled his staff and a burst of greenish light lashed out. Calliope raised her staff and a barrier of bright amethyst energy exploded into being, the green light crackled over it like static discharge then winked out. Both orcs charged, their movements eerily synchronized and lacking the usual war cries of their kind. Mesmer stepped to meet one, his black blade whirling in a figure eight which deflected the orcs attack and struck sparks from its chest plate. Morek stumped in, shouting in Kazilid and hammering his axe at the brute knee. The orc twisted and kicked, the blow pitching the dwarf into the water with a splash. Kayden was obliged to face the second alone, his sidesword weaving a series of desperate parries, any attempt to block the massive cleaver would shatter his blade in an instant. Calliope whirled her staff around and hundred of what seemed to be fireflies pulled themselves from the cavern walls and whirled down onto the goblin like locusts. Screaming vile imprecations the Goblin crossed his arms and a thunderous green gold detonation blew the fireflies away like dandelion fluff. Raising its arms its face began to glow, then seemed to detach from its face for all the world like a wax death mask being peeled away. It expanded until it was ten feet across, learning and spewing energy. It lunged forward, spewing green fire but Calliope was chanting and whirling her staff, the very darkness seemed to twist and the face distended as though being sucked into a whirlpool, the goblin howling and clawing at its real face as the phantasm met a disc of crackling amethyst darkness. Light was howling across the chamber, reflecting and refracting off the water and bathing the walls in unhealthy hues. The air smelled of camphor and fire damp mixed with something floral and astringent. Mesmer cut at his attacker, taking its arm off at the elbow and fetching a blow that sent him spinning across the causeway. Somehow he held onto his blade, its passage marked in the sparks it drew from the flint of the causeway. Kayden backed away, giving ground to the oddly silent, orc and worrying it with quick precise thrusts that already had blood soaking its lower chest and legs. The darkness lit with a pistol discharge as Francesca fired, not at the orcs but at the shaman herself. The ball streaked across the room in a fraction of a heartbeat then seemed to freeze a few feet from the capering goblin, the ball beginning to glow and smoke in the abused light.

“Die! Die! Die!” the little monster screeched, spittle flyinging. It’s massive faux face drew back, snarling wide enough to devour a wagon, a wall of green flame belching forth. It raced towards the combat, the water on either side boiling at its passage. Mesmer amputated the orcs foot with a one handed cut, then leaped backwards, sword raised to protect his mistress. Kayden thrust his side sword into his opponent’s belly, then leaped into his arms like a child clasping its mother. Calliope spoke a single word and flicked her finger. Twisting waterspouts of black lake water leaped from the darkness and crashed over the goblin from both sides. It let out a petulant cry that was silenced a moment later when Francesca’s pistol shot, now glowing red hot from the spell that until a moment ago finished its flight, punched through the creature's right eyeball, steam screaming away as super heated metal hit cold mountain water, casting its ruddy glow like a meteor. Everything went silent save for the agitated sloshing of water. Then Mesmer produced a lantern which he had somehow kept dry enough to light.

“A curse on all Manling mercenaries and their hare-brained ideas,” Morek spluttered as he pulled himself from the water, nothing wounded but his dignity. Kayden, miraculously, had survived, having used his attacker's body as a shield against the onrushing flames. The orc’s back was a flayed ruin, but other than a slight smell of singed hair, Kayden was unscathed. Mesmer looked like he had aged a decade but was calmly wiping the great zweihander clean with a rag.
“I believe your men… and women will be able to take it from here,” Calliope said calmly, lowering her faintly glowing staff with an air of satisfaction.

Hours later, the excavation was more or less going as planned. With the death of the shaman, most of the goblins and orcs saw fit to scramble away, though there were always stubborn ones. Afterwards, Kayden ordered the men in the mines to retreat, allowing Morek and Sketti and the other dwarfs to form their own temporary units and thoroughly route what greenskins were left, letting the soft menfolk eat and rest. Neil (and Sketti) had been a bit saddened by the fact that no explosives had yet been needed, but Kayden allowed that sergeant Edwards could go beneath with them and if they needed it to be done in a place outside of the safe zone, he would grant them allowance to.

Meanwhile, Francesca had been given thanks by Kayden and suitably collapsed, given an entire's days rest. Kayden felt like he needed the same. He was not entirely claustrophobic, but during his adventuring years with Morek before this outfit, he had experienced a little too many terrors of the deep to feel comfortable in there, and this latest excursion had nearly incinerated him. He loathed the aristocracy for their unearned sense of self worth and vanity, but he had always been an exceptionally dashing individual, and once he had come to terms with his life still in tact, he fretted a bit over his singed hair. Once that was done, he had gone to Lady Blackwood's tent with only the barest moment to be announced. Mesmer was there, his vitality somehow returned. He barred Kayden's way as surely as a stone wall, much like how Morek would do so at his tent. Silent and foreboding.

"Come in, Captain." She called, and only then did Mesmer step to the side like a yawning gateway. Kayden eyed him for a moment, and he flipped the pavilion's flap open to enter, stepping onto a lush carpet. The inner section of the spacious, too spacious, living quarters was illuminated by candles. From the outside, he knew there could be no room for any other chambers, but whilst to his left was a large desk of arcane scripts while strange fetishes from he guessed was distant Cathay, to his right was a soft sitting chair and beyond it was another exit that led further in to somewhere. The Lady Blackwood stepped out, having just fixed the fringe of her own tied up hair. She wore black as was her custom, but her usual ostentatious robe and corset combination that commanded respect was replaced by a a simpler but elegant shift that one might sleep in, albeit still accompanied by her amethyst jewelry. It hugged her lovely form, but despite her nonchalance, now that he knew who or what she was, he could see she was cloaked in power in some anticipation. Whether it was because she expected him to assail her tent with the entire army or to distract her from an assassin, he was not certain. "Can I help you?"

"You've helped quite enough," he said, pulling his hand away from his amethyst earring. He was wondering if it would be good to get it replaced. "I was nearly burned to death and my second almost drowned. The entire mine nearly collapsed atop us. Is it amusing to toy with us?"

"Slightly, but I was not toying with you there." She corrected him, reclining on her cushioned chair. "There was a mage of some skill below, more than you likely suspect. I solved it for our goals. I did not deign to endanger you."

"No, it just almost happened anyway because of your secrets." He said, and the silence hung for a moment as they stared at one another. Eventually he capitulated, more out of his own conscience than any power of hers. "But, better my life than those of my men. However, you could have told me earlier you were a sorceress. I would have thought you would concede it is of particular note."

She chuckled. "Taken from La'Teirsen's Contemplations. Are we going to argue philosophy, Captain? I do miss my time at the Scholars Sanctum."

"We could, and we likely will, but I would rather a straight answer at present, my lady."

"It is no one's business but my own, however I do not wish for it to be advertised regardless. I would ask for your confidence as well, for the time being. I know you can convince your dwarf friend to do the same."

"And Francesca?"

"I gave her a poultice to help her sleep. Oh don't worry, Captain. It's harmless and she'll forget my part by the morning." She said, and then looked at him appraisingly. "You're better at the sword than I anticipated."

Mesmer stepped into the tent before Kayden could reply. The brooding, quiet man gave a bow to Calliope, who sat up inquisitively. She rolled her hand to bid him speak. "My lady, Otto has returned. He brings news..."

Calliope wasn’t entirely sure how she should relate to Kayden. Growing up on her estate in Averland people had been clearly divided into those you socialized with and servants. The mercenary captain was more like an employee but in Averland a noble engaging openly in business was still gouache and so she hadn’t had much opportunity to practice. In the Colleges of Magic the situation was much the same, the magically talented were the nobility and everyone else were the servants. Perhaps it was best not to give him a tongue lashing for asking impertinent questions just yet. Fortunately the arrival of Sir Otto allowed her out of the awkwardness.

“Bring him in Johan,” she told Mesmer. A moment later Otto tramped in, armor rattling and looking very pleased with himself.

“My Lady I…” he trailed off as he registered Kayden’s presence in the tent.

“What is he doing here?” he asked, more sharply than he might have if he hadn’t spent the last few hours riding through rough country in full armor.

“He is here,” Calliope replied acidly, “because he just escorted me from the mines.”

“The mines, you went down there without us? My Lady you cannot…”

“I may do,” Calliope began, enunciating each word very precisely, “exactly as I please.” The words were directed at both Kayden and Otto despite the knight currently suffering her ire.

“And in any case, you were not here to properly escort me. Fortunately Johan and Captain Caladwarden were up to the challenge,” she continued. Otto’s eyes cut to Mesmer and he clearly wanted to make further objection but apparently he was smart enough to stop digging when he found himself in a hole.

“Of course My Lady, I apologize for not being at my post, the ‘good’ Captain had made it clear that we wouldn’t be needed. So I decided to take the men and sweep for spies and stragglers and we found some,” Otto said, snapping his fingers. Two knights brought in a pair of men in rough peasant clothing, their wrists were bound and they looked terrified.

“What were you men doing in the hills today?” Calliope asked with deceptive indifference. The larger of the two men bowed his head in a frantic gesture of obeisance.

“Weren’t nothing youse ladyship ‘honest, just trapping rabbits is all,” he blurted. Calliope raised a sculpted eyebrow.

“Trapping rabbits on the same hillside an army was fighting greenskins, I cannot imagine you caught many,” Calliope said dryly. Otto and the knights chuckled at the dryly delivered jest. A look of relief came across the man's face and he nodded in furious agreement adding his own sickly laugh.

“Right you are youse Ladyship, not a single one,” he agreed. Otto reached into a satchel and produced a rather expensive looking spy glass and passed it to Calliope. The sorceress snapped it open and peered at the alleged spy, her dark eye appearing huge in the lens, like a monster out of legend.

“He was carrying this, a stick of charcoal for notes too but he ate the paper before we could confiscate it,” Otto explained. The captive looked outraged.

“We didnt eat nuffin, and that their looking glass was a gift from me da!” he exclaimed. Calliope chuckled and closed the glass with a snap that made the man flinch.

“A gift from your da indeed,” Calliope snickered, “do you have a name sir?”

“Yevins, Carl Yevins your ladyship,” he supplied.

“I don't suppose you are for hire Carl Yevins?” Calliope asked, “natural talent should be encouraged wherever it springs up.” Yevins looked this way and that, doing a credible job of appearing confused.

“For hire your ladyship, like as a rabbit trapper?” he asked guilelessly. Calliope laughed again and gestured to the scowling Knight.

“Cut them loose Sir Otto,” she commanded. Otto’s mouth worked for a moment, but he obediently produced a knife and sliced the bonds of the two prisoners. Both men began to chafe their wrists together, restoring the circulation after the tight binding. Calliope closed the spy glass and tossed it to Yevins, who caught it neatly.

“You may go,” she told the two potential spies. Both men looked confused, and Otto began to redden with anger.

“You…you are just going to let us go?” Yevins asked, clearly taken aback.

“If you really insist I suppose I can have you birched for trespassing on my land, but I really am terribly busy so you will have to ask Sir Otto to do it if you feel it necessary,” she replied dryly. Yevins’ eyes cut between Calliope and the fuming Knight, then he bowed and scuttled out of the tent with his companion.

“Is it really wise to let spies go free my Lady?” Kayden asked in a rare moment of solidarity with Otto.

“It is if you want them to report their findings,” Calliope responded.

“Have your troops make a show of fortifying the mine, then have them rest. I will be returning to Gallows end in the morning, I shall require that the majority of the men remain here, but will require fifty or so as an escort,” she told Kayden.

The Silverhill Skirmish, the men were calling it. I felt it was a trite more harrowing considering my experiences, but we did come out relatively unscathed. I acquiesced to Lady Blackwood's request and did as I was bid. We fortified our position at Silverhill, and I gave Merie command of the Rearguard and half the Free Booters to escort our patron back to Gallow's End. We lost five men on the journey there and back. Three mysteriously disappeared, one man dehydrated himself to death from some unknown affliction, and the final was killed by the walking dead. I was assured it was an isolated incident from a number of unmarked graves that had been disturbed on our first journey, and were awaiting our return as Merie walked them across disturbed soil. However, three days after our victory over the Shaman, the lady returned to us, and we marched with a token force to Nehren. I personally met with the mayor at the gates, and my force of men were told to wait outside, for an occupying force could not simply walk in, legitimate or not. However, Calliope Blackwood and a smaller retinue could enter. We did so. It had been an eventful week, working for the Black Rose. It was by no means over.


"What do you make of it?" Kayden asked him.

"I won't say my opinion as fact, Captain." Cyrdic Becker remarked, sipping his mead. The clouds made way for the sun, giving the humble mining town of Nehren a dappled look of light and dark. Kayden had kept his one hundred men and women encamped outside the walls, and had brought in twenty five of the Linebreakers with the mayor's acquiescence. The mayor was a slim, skittish man, by the look Kayden had of him. He could tell immediately he was in the pocket of someone else at best, and a mongrel lapdog at worst. Well, he looked more akin to a weasel, but that was beside the point. Kayden had informed his men to not wear the Wyvern colors coming in, and to spread out when they entered. If worst came to worst, he didn't want them all found in one location, and to be ready to spring at a moment's notice. Kayden, however, could not blend in to the crowd. He was too striking of a figure to meld in, due to his unnaturally good looks and his modest jewelry to denote his status. On the side of the street, the prince had seemingly "bumped" into Cyrdic, however he seemed to pay little heed to subterfuge, out of his own choice than happenstance. Cyrdic motioned his mug across the way, to the billing house where four toughs in boiled leather, messers sheathed at their sides, stood. They watched the two Wyvern's openly, holding the cold stares of killers. "But they look like men who were told to strike, and soon."

"They do look like dogs at a table." Kayden agreed, turning away from Ernst's paid men and giving Cyrdic a subtle wink. "Keep close to your batch of the men, but not too close. I'll be in touch."

"Yes, Captain." He said, taking another sip of his mead, his wolfish eyes never leaving the steel gaze of the thugs. He was an Ostermark man, but he bore a Norscan shield and a sword with a wolfish pommel. Kayden had never bothered to ask, but there was a story there. The prince let the mercenary be, striding up the street to busy himself while Lady Blackwood finished negotiations with this Ernst fellow, a petty merchant prince with some evident influence in this part of old Solland.

He stepped out of the sun and into the local Alehouse, dubbed The Gold Vein. An auspicious name for what he felt amounted to pretty much a nothing of an establishment. A few tables full, a few empty. He smelled alcohol and sweat, and saw when he glanced around the timber constructed room, prospectors and townsfolk made half of the customers, and the other half seemed to be as rough as the men waiting outside. He made a conscious effort not to look at a few of his men planted in the crowd, and instead decided to busy himself with the barmaid. She was a pretty, plump, blonde haired girl who had a snaggle tooth one could not miss when she smiled, and she smiled widely when she saw Kayden. He mirrored her smile, having approached the counter so casually it seemed as if he had simply glided up.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, fraulein" Kayden said, his voice like silk. She let out a small, unconscious breath, and it made him smile wider.

"Welcome, ser. We um, we have ale, wine, and beer. All locally brewed." She said, catching herself idly rummaging with the silverware she was supposed to put up and placed it down on the counter.

"The darkest ale you have, and once you get that, maybe we can talk awhile if that's no trouble for you." He offered. When given the chance, he was a shameless flirt. She said yes a bit too quickly and went to fetch his drink. No sooner had she turned around that a grunt could be heard behind him, and a portly man with a lined face and a weather coat set down on the stool next to him.

"Yeah, Helga's well liked around here, stranger." He said, placing his cup of beer down, half full. Kayden raised an eyebrow at that. He sat down for a desire rather than a need, then. When Kayden did not reply, he continued. "So, how long have you been walking to get to this little town?"

"Hard to answer." Kayden remarked.

"How come?"

"Does that mean how long have I walked before I got here from my last destination, or how long have I walked since I planned on arriving?"

The figure shook his head and smiled. His teeth were full of ivory and silver, and one wooden molar. "You're very precise, herr Captain." He said, chuckling at a private joke. "I like that. I bet you're a shrewd businessman. You'd have to be, wouldn't you? I wanted to offer you a bit of business myself." Helga had returned, but having noticed the stranger joining Kayden at the counter, her smile had disappeared. She placed the drink down and walked away, busying herself with other matters that suddenly needed her attention. Kayden took the drink and sipped, staying quiet. "See, Ernst and Co is a big conglomerate. Growing larger, actually. I hear soon, we're going to own the whole southern half of Wissenland. Bringing civilization back to Solland, cities, towns, commerce! No more curses or the talk of superstitious locals. You seem like just the man for the job, and we pay better than black bitches from a dying family. With respect."

"Really? And what do you propose?" Kayden asked idly, nursing his drink.

"Oh, nothing much. Say, righting a few wrongs you made under duress. Seems you had some trouble few miles south of here, yeah? Maybe escorting the good lady home, see to it she stays there. If you get my meaning..."

Kayden took another swig of his drink, smiling to himself. He drained the mug, and set it down on the table before placing two crowns, double the price of the drink, for Helga. "I think I do. Maybe when my contract is up, I'll see to it. Until then though," He said, turning to lean on the counter and look the man dead in the eyes. "I'm afraid I'm a Blackwood man. She might not pay much, but she's easier on the eyes than Ernst, I bet. You as well." He grinned at that last bit, and without further talk he walked out, the chuckles of a few listeners following him.

He needed to find Calliope and talk to her about it.

Calliope stood at the window of the three story town house she had rented, peering out over the streets. Even from here she could sense the nervousness of the people below. Here and there Ruttiger’s bully boys swaggered about but they looked to be compensating for something. Calliope lifted the goblet to her lips and sipped at the rich red wine thoughtfully. She wondered if every step of her path would need to be this convoluted. A smile tugged at her lips, part of her hoped so, she did so enjoy a good scheme.

“Captain Caradwalden my lady,” Sir Humbolt, one of Otto’s men announced as the mercenary captain strode in. She stepped away from the window and turned to greet him. Kayden made a gesture somewhere between a salute and a wave and then helped himself to the wine.

“One of Ruttiger’s boys tried to bribe me,” he said without preamble. Calliope arched an eyebrow at him.

“Obviously I didn’t take it,” he added in a slightly irritated tone.

“Of course you might just be saying that,” Calliope teased. A raven fluttered down out of the chimney flue, casting ashes in all directions as it hopped free and shook itself as though taking a bird bath.

“Trraaath, trraath,” it cawed, flicking its wings in irritation.

“I don’t suppose you can tell me why he has it out for you, or why he is hiring every footpad he can get his hands on?” Kayden asked.

“I suspect,” Calliope began, “that something has stirred up the orcs in the mountains and they are currently swarming all over the roads he depends on to bring his ore to market. Which might be inconvenient if he had agreed to supply several hundred weight to someone by noon today.”

Kayden stared at her for a moment, but his mind was quick.

“That’s what it was about? You had my men drive the orcs out so they would swarm and stop him from honoring his deal?!” he demanded. Calliope nodded and took another sip of her wine.

“Silverhill is all but played out, its value as a mine is limited,” she admitted. Kayden shook his head.

“And what happens when he cant provide it?” he asked. Calliope’s lips drew back from her teeth.

“I’m afraid in his enthusiasm to take advantage of a down on her heels noblewoman, Herr Ruttiger wrote some rather harsh terms into our contract. Of course, it never occurred to him that it would be he that couldn’t follow through.”

“And they call me a mercenary,” Kayden said, the undertone of admiration clear in his voice. He took another sip of wine then looked around.

“Where is Mesmer?” he asked, surprised to see the taciturn man far from his mistress’ side.

“Abroad,” Calliope replied. She didn’t amplify the remark but the crow began to caw ‘Abrraaad, Abraaad.’

______________________

“She tricked me!” Ernest Ruttiger howled, his puddy face a shade of red that had more in common with beets than with men. The spherical man was dressed in a suit that had been out of fashion in Altdorf before Calliope had left, all roughed collars and sleeves. The men in the guild hall muttered uneasily at this outburst. The guild hall was the largest building in Nehren, not that this was saying much, a recent construction of polished wood and imported stained glass. It smelled of parchment and ink and the fortunes made by those mining magnates who frequented itself.

“Order!” Rickter Meirhoff, the reedy looking Burgermeister declared, banging a gavel down on a wooden striking plate to make his point. The two dozen merchants and their hangers on quieted down.

“Lady Blackwood, have you anything to say?” he asked, pressing a pair of pons nez glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Judging by the sheen of sweat, herr Meirhoff was regretting the bribes he had taken from Ruttiger now that he was being required to pay them off.

“I have a very clear contract, Herr Ruttiger was to supply me with three hundred weight of ore by noon today,” she declared, waving the contract around to emphasise the point.

“I have not received my delivery, despite the hour being long past and several polite notes,” she added.

“She set orcs on my wagon trains!” Ruttiger screamed, all but apoplectic. Calliope snorted in derision.

“I am certain Herr Ruttiger imagines I have all manner of magical powers,” Calliope sneered, “but I doubt even he seriously believes I can bend greenskins to my will.” Kayden covered his mouth at the mention of magical powers, but the rest of the room chuckled at the joke, happy enough to see their rival discomforted.

“She used her private army to do it!” Ruttiger ragged, making a gesture at Kayden to make it clear of whom he was speaking.

“I have, my friends, engaged soldiers to recover my own mine at Silverhill, an activity that has no bearing on Herr Ruttiger and that I am entirely within my rights to do. My friends at court would no doubt applaud me using my own resources to deal a blow to the greenskins who menace us all, I cannot imagine why it exercises dear Ernst so,” she said in a tone of soft and apparently genuine concern. Ruttiger began to shout a response but Meirhoff banged his gavel again, so forcefully that the powdered wig he was wearing nearly fell off.

“May I examine this contract Lady Blackwood?” Meirhoff asked politely. Calliope handed the scroll to Kayden who carried it across to the lectern the Burgermiester stood behind and passed it up to him. Meirhoff made a show of considering it, a sly look coming to his face.

“This is a very large amount Lady Blackwood, do you uh.. have the coin to pay for it?” he asked delicately.

“Honored Burgermeister, the contract states I will pay on delivery, and pay I would have done… had it been delivered,” Calliope responded with affronted dignity.
“It is most irregular perhaps…” Calliope held up a hand to interrupt the corrupt official.

“Herr Ruttiger was kind enough to have the contract vetted and witnessed by the Temple, I am certain they will stand by their opinion,” Calliope responded. Another wave of uneasy muttering went through the crowd. Merchants might lie and cheat each other, but the Temple of Sigmar was another matter entirely.

“Herr Ruttiger cannot be held responsible for the activities of orcs any more than you can be blamed for them,” Meirhoff said, his tone wheedling. “Perhaps if he simply returned your downpayment plus some modest fee…”

“The contract is very specific Burgermeister, it states that if he is not able to provide me with the ore I requested he will compensate me with twenty thousand gold florins or twenty two thousand Imperial Karls.” This sent a wave of shocked gasps though the crowd as it was an exorbitant amount. Calliope held up her hand for quiet.

“The same amount I would have been required to pay if I had not produced the funds,” she added, “Herr Ruttiger is very clear on this in the document.”

“I ah… see,” Meirhoff said miserably, his eyes going to the fuming Ruttiger. Such a figure would be ruinous to any merchant without the backing of the court or one of the major counting houses. A guarded look passed between Ruttiger and the Burgermiester.

“Very well, as the legality of the contract is secured by the Temple we will follow Temple law. As it is currently a Holy day, Temple business cannot be conducted. By noon time tomorrow Herr Ruttiger will render you the payment either in coin or in mortgages on property, is that acceptable to you Lady Blackwood?” Meirhoff asked, sagging as though exhausted.

“Entirely,” she replied smugly, favoring Ernst with a cold smile..

The Lady Blackwood and Kayden arrived back at the relatively refurbished townhouse within the hour, walking with perfect, innocent poise. Kayden made a show of waving to those who watched or giving friendly nods, eyeing their surroundings while making a show of congeniality and flirtation. Even Calliope gave a smile to a few more prominent members of the township. When they arrived, Kayden knocked on the door for the lady, and one of her knights answered. He opened the door for both of them, and Kayden, a perfect gentleman, allowed the noblewoman to step in first, the prince following in her wake. The door clicked shut before the prying eyes of Nehren. Kayden was glad, he doubted he could hold it in any longer.

The Prince laughed, the pleasant sound echoing in the main lobby and carrying up the carpeted central stairway. Even when he was finished, he grinned. The Lady Blackwood held herself a moment longer, acting confused on his source of mirth, but there was a knowing, amused twinkle in her eyes. Otto Von Draken appeared at the top of the stairs, holding his sword hilt to steady it and hurrying down to meet his liege. "How did the court decide?" He asked in breathless worry. The prince ignored his entrance and continued with the dark wizardess as Morek stepped into the foyer from an apparent interest in the kitchens.

"That was well played," Kayden admitted, giving Calliope a smile Gossippa Lotta would have killed an elector count to have thrown her way. "I was afraid I was going to dearly miss the intrigue after I left Tilea. Everything I've heard about the Empire makes it sound so droll, and my time at Altdorf did not necessarily dissuade me of such notions." He placed a hand to his forehead as he chuckled once more. "Rhya’s tits, forgive me my ignorance."

"Do not speak to her in such a familiar tone." Otto warned him. If his gaze were daggers, Kayden would have been impaled thrice immediately. It only made Kayden's grin wider, getting some sly, fey delight at Otto's incessant jealousy. There were rumors some men of albion had the blood of elves or spirits. Likely false, even to Kayden's reckoning, but while he was controlled and educated, he did find himself cursed with deep passions when the mood struck him. It only fueled Otto's ire, but Morek stepped forward as Otto gripped the hilt of his sword. The ironbreaker gave him a black look, and it caused him to hesitate long enough for Calliope to wave his concerns away.

"The Captain was merely complimenting me, Otto. Don't be a bore. And the proceeding went well. I'm simply glad such a litigious meeting could bring out such joy." She placed a perfect hand to her chest. "I, myself, feel rather satisfied as well."

Kayden found himself toying with the amethyst earring again, but pulled his hand away as soon as he grew conscious of it. As the Lady Blackwood began to speak the details to those knights that did not follow, Morek escorted Kayden into the kitchens with the six men that had joined them in the townhouse, leaving twenty scattered across Nehren. Just as Kayden had advised, they were Pike's men. Each held a longbow with arrow bags. Longbow arrows were too large to be used in traditional quivers, unless under great duress, at least.

"I see that look in your face, Captain." Leuthold remarked, leaning against the left wall. He had a scar over his left eye, leaving the orb milky white. Somehow he was still one of the best shots in the company. He claimed he just needed to cross his eye like one might with both and it brought it all into perspective. As long as it worked. "Good news?"

"'Course it is, we'd be run out of town if it weren't," Arnest said, sitting at the table and chewing a bit of cooked mutton. On his shoulder was Conrad, a small squirrel the archer had found alone as a baby and raised with scraps from his rations. It did tricks for nuts and scratches, and followed Arnest everywhere. At night, some men said Conrad could be seen watching the Mannslieb from atop his tent. No one could figure why.

Kayden sat down and ate some mutton with them, telling them of the whole ordeal. An hour passed, and Kayden was somewhat convinced that things would turn out in their favor, and with relative smoothness.

They were unfortunately interrupted by a rock thrown through the kitchen window, shattering glass and pitching poor Walden over when it struck him in the head, though the man wasn't hurt badly. His propensity for wearing his helmet indoors served him well in this instance, the stone bouncing off the steel audibly. Immediately Kayden, Morek, and the men got to their feet, weapons out. Two grabbed their long knives, but while Arnest helped Walden up, the others nocked their bows. The loud sound of more glass shattering showcased it wasn't an isolated incident, and peering through the window, Kayden saw Ernst Ruttiger, with what looked to be a quarter of the townsfolk behind him, along with several of the bailiffs from the court room. He even spotted the rabbit poachers from days before lurking amongst the crowd. A number of the men had ranged weapons, crossbows and rifles and pistols, but most had messers or daggers, many holding mining implements. No doubt Ernst had squeezed their livelihood to have them join him or lied about Lady Blackwood, likely both.

"Lady Blackwood!" Ersnt screamed, his pudgy face sweating in the relatively mild heat.

"Captain?" Gerhardt asked, readying his bow. Kayden shook his head, staying his man's shot.

"Lady Blackwood, I know you're in there!" The fat merchant seemed very pleased with himself, despite his pitiful efforts to make his presence more grandiose for the masses. "Come out and speak with me reasonably! Come out, or we'll come in and drag you out, you witch!"

Above him, Kayden heard the voice of Calliope Blackwood carried on the wind, oozing smugness. "Dear Ernst, you brought my money already? I was led to believe the appointment was tomorrow! How thoughtful..."

"My money belongs to me! You and your backwood liturgy has no place in Nehren!" He cried, and a few of his men yelled in support, though most of the townsfolk remained silent. In hushed tones, Kayden told Morek to stay below with Walden, Arnest, and Leuthold. Gerhardt, Grolmes, and Hanke were to follow him to better vantage points as he ascended the stairs, rushing past the mezzanine and making it to the third floor in the private library, where Calliope, Otto, and another knight were near the window. Kayden motioned for each man to find a different room and a different window to cover, and joined Calliope, albeit at a different stained window to her right. As he opened the glass pane, Ernst caught the movement with his eye.

"Captain Caladwarden! You should have taken my offer!" Ernst lamented dramatically. "You seem like a man of honor! Why not come down and join us! I would take the deal if I were you, my boy!"

"If you were me, you'd be charming." Kayden replied simply. Ernst looked taken aback, and a few of his men dropped their jaws. A number of the townsfolk chuckled and tried to hold their laughter. He heard a snicker to his left, and he dare not look but he believed it was the Lady Blackwood.

"You little shit!" Ernst roared, his pudgy face red. He looked like the crimson-faced ape from the southlands he had seen once in a cage during his stint in araby. "You clearly do not value your life!"

"I am a mercenary, herr Ruttiger. It's my job to value money over my life, and by the court's decision, you'll soon be lacking it." He said, a sly grin spreading across his face.

“I do not believe adding burglary to breach of contract would be a good move for you master Ruttiger. I think your time would be better spent preparing what you already owe me,” Calliope called out. Kayden reached out and gently guided her out of the frame of the window.

“Not a good idea in a world of crossbows,” he explained sotto voce.

More men were gathering in front of the house now, the burly cording of their muscles as well as the tools they carried proclaimed their vocations. Ruttiger was a mining magnate and the presence of pick axes and prybars demonstrated that he was more than willing to mobilize his workforce.

“You cannot expect me to neatly accept ruin based on a trick, a clever trick I’ll grant you, but just a trick none the less. Come down now and speak with me, or it will go poorly for you.”

“We can cut our way free my lady,” Otto suggested, clearly uncomfortable with the direction things were going. Calliope shook her head, the situation was spiraling out of her control, she had not expected such backbone from a gutless worm like Ernst Ruttiger.
“If we take part in a massacre all of this will have been for naught, if they declare me an outlaw Ruttiger will be able to weasel out,” Calliope explained.
“The mercenaries then, they can break this up, can you get word to them Caradwalden?” Otto asked. Kayden was nodding his head.

“A few of my boys could slip through to them but I dont know that it would prevent a massacre if the miners try to stop them reaching us,” the mercenary captain replied.

“Send your men, have them send riders to Calsdat,” Calliope decided suddenly, “Have them rouse the temple curates and anyone they can get from the Baron, bring them by force if you have to,” she decided.

“Even at the gallop that is nearly a two hour trip,” Kayden pointed out, “two hours there, two hours back, plus however long it takes to round people up.”

“Then you had best get started,” Calliope replied tartly, once they get here, come in with your troops, it will be obvious if we have witnesses who was attacking whom.”

“Any plans for how we will last out the next four hours then?” Kayden asked. Calliope marched to the window and threw open the shutters, to the horrified winces of both Otto and Kayden.

“Herr Ruttiger, I will not speak with you until you provide some earnest of what you owe me, I appreciate your shortage of ready coin however. Bring me the downpayment I provided you and I shall come down and talk,” she declared.

“And as waiting is thirsty work, have the taverns provide drinks for your men, on me,” she added, drawing cheers and chuckles from the miners that their foremen tried in vain to quash. Ruttiger fumed but seemed unable to figure a way out of the fix.

“Very well, I’ll send to my factory for your gold,” he admitted grudgingly. Calliope slammed the window shut and stepped away.

“Clever,” Otto observed, “but how are you going to avoid going down to him once he brings the gold. Calliope smiled a little wryly.

“He may have trouble producing it, because I dispatched Mesmer to steal it nearly two hours ago,” she admitted with a dark chuckle. “It will buy us some time at least, Kayden get your men moving, Otto, have everyone else barricade the bottom floor.”

“What if he tries to burn us out?” Otto asked in concern.

“I think I can probably do something about that,” Calliope replied.

When Kayden ran the black witch's plot by his men, they were a bit dubious, but they trusted his plans, which by association meant they trusted his agreement to other plans. However, it took some doing. They had to find some musty, flea-bitten apparel lost in the lowest drawers and the deepest closets in the townhouse firstly, and then they needed to decide just who was going to go, and how.

"I need at least three of you to go," Kayden told them, arms folded. They had cordoned themselves off in one of the guest rooms, as the kitchen had become a bit of a hazard from the potential flying rocks and missiles. "Three of you can stay and keep your bows, but the rest need to go, without weapons except your long knives."

"You should be one of the ones to go, Captain. You need to lead the men, and you need to get out of here in case it goes north." Arnest advised, but Kayden was already shaking his head.

"The lady wishes me to stay, and I want to keep an eye on her as well. She's the meal ticket, after all." He said in a tone that halted any argument. A few of the longbowmen exchanged looks, and Kayden had to stifle a sigh. No doubt they were thinking his womanizing was getting in the way of his judgement, though Grolmes and Hanke seemed less than enthused, likely believing Calliope wasn't worth the risk in general. "Now, who's going? Walden, if you do you can't wear the helmet." The entire group halted when Morek raised a hand, and Kayden waited a long moment before adding: "Morek, you understand you'd be running away from a siege with your short legs?"

He lowered his hand again and grunted. "Thought we'd fight out way out." Was his only explanation.

"No, this is secretive. You need to blend in."

Swiftly, Kayden and his men organized themselves, and Grolmes, Hanke, and Leuthold would need to change and find a way to slip out the back. Arnest, Walden, and Gerhardt would stay, while Morek and Kayden set up to barricading the defenses below. This was not the first time they had fought in a manor. There was standard for villa defense in Tilea, if one sold their swords enough. Luckily the mezzanine on the 2nd floor was perfect for longbowmen and riflemen. Kayden had a pistol ready, himself.

Once the meeting broke, he and Morek went to aid the knights in piling up tables and furniture against the doorway as the three longbowmen made their escape through the cellar, which led to a small hatch a few dozen paces behind the townhouse. Kayden expected Otto to tell them to sod off when they came to aid, but it was the one time the arrogant tart did not give him a tongue lashing and they silently worked together. Morek began to rearrange the pile, pointing for the knights to move chairs and barking an order here or there. It seemed the short-lived peace was going to abruptly die, but before Otto could argue, Kayden held a hand up. "Dwarfs have a knack for sieges and obstacles. If you wish to defend your charge, I would listen to him."

He growled but acquiesced. Within two hours, the entirety of the bottom floor could hold off a rampaging Ungor horde if it came down to it. As Otto and Morek were shoving the last cupboard against the symmetrical walls of timber, books, and bedding, Kayden ascended the stairway to inform Calliope of their progress. He stepped inside the library where she had a good view of those down below, and he found her on the cushioned chair, her eyes closed but a fell light emanating from behind her eyelids. His men weren't entirely wrong, he did find her quite fetching, but the look of whatever magic she was doing almost had him going for his sword. When she heard the scuffing of his feet, her eyes opening were even more unnerving. They had been pure black, the stygian color slowly eroding as her magics faded and she returned to normalcy.

"Any news?" They both asked in unison. Calliope's red lips thinned, clearly wishing for him to speak first. He gave a courtly bow.

"We have reinforced all doors on the first floor, and covered all windows on the second. If they make a move, which should be happening shortly I imagine, they'll have hell to pay."

“BLACKWOOD!” Ruttiger roared a few moments after a servant hurried across to whisper in his ear. His voice reverberated across the shopfronts and townhouses, so filled with rage that it quieted even the mob. Calliope stood up and nodded to Kayden then crossed to the window without actually standing in front of it.

“No need to shout Ernst dear,” she called back insouciantly. Several of Kayden’s men made strangling sounds at the insulting tone she chose to employ.

“Are you trying to get us killed,” one of Otto’s knights demanded. Otto clouted the man across the back of the head to remind him of his place, though his own thoughts probably ran along similar lines.

“You think you are clever don't you, where is the gold you gave me!?”

“My my, can’t pay your debts AND can’t find your own money. I’m glad I’m not depending on you for my pay,” she called back, for the benefit of the mob and the miners stiffening it.

“I’ve been more than reasonable, but now I’m done talking, I’m…”

“But you persist,” Calliope called back in a disapproving tone she punctuated with a tut tut sound.

“ENOUGH!” Drag the witch out of there boys!” he snarled to his miners, a moment before a shower of stones and bottles struck the windows. Calliope closed her eyes and opened them again, the irises suddenly black and unseeing. Far above she wheeled with the crows, her wings spread wide as she observed the humans far below. It wasn’t easy to focus on them, her eyes continually tried to flick towards rodents in the thatch or carcasses of dead animals in the alley. She watched as dozens of them rushed at one of the large nests, and began to batter at the doors and walls. Calliope opened her true eyes and pursed her lips. Already she could hear the blows of miners pounding on the door, a few enterprising sorts were even beginning to batter on the walls with their pick axes.

“What should we do my lady?” Otto asked for neutrality. He wasn’t scared but he wanted to make the right decision in the next few moments.

“Go down stairs and defend the house, try not to kill anyone if you don’t have to, but if it is them or you…”

“Yes My Lady,” Otto replied, unbuckling his sword and lashing the scabbard to the cross guard so it could be used as a club.

“Hold the first floor for as long as you can, then fall back to the stairwell and we will defend the second floor a little more…actively,” she directed. Otto nodded and hurried down stairs fitting his helmet onto his head. Calliope wondered if that was wise, an armored man was a threat, sword or no, and if this went from business dispute to battle it could get bloody.

“Is there anything you can do?” Kayden asked her.

“I can give orders,” Calliope replied, a slight tension in her voice betraying she wasn’t as cool and collected as she might want other to believe.

“No… I mean…” he wiggled his fingers. Calliope arched an eyebrow.

“Would you like me to kill everyone in a hundred yards of the house?” she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

“I see your point,” he replied.

“I tell you what, if things get bad enough and you have to kill someone, bring me the body, that might be helpful.”

Kayden found everything decidedly NOT helpful, and it continued to regress as the mob outside pounded on the doors and tried to shatter the windows. It was lucky they had a few spears to worry anyone who managed to make a hole in one of the boards, but it wasn't going to keep them out forever. Morek and Otto and a few other lads kept the main bulk of the stacked up furniture from budging too far back, but the door itself was almost completely dismantled, and it was only a matter of time before they began to pull out various parts of the makeshift obstruction rather than continually push on it.

A bullet punched through the wall somewhere to Kayden's left, the prince reflexively ducking but otherwise fine.

"It'd be a whole lot easier if we could use our bows, captain!" Arnest called, having just cut the reaching arm of a man who had attempted to snake the arm out of a hole to try and unlock an obstructed sidedoor.

"Don't I know it!" Kayden cried, his frustration mounting. An axehead broke through the top of the door, cutting into the hand of one of the knights. Had the man not been wearing a gauntlet, he might have lost a finger. He cried out and pulled his hand back, but before he shoved his sword through, Otto pushed him away and sent him to grab more chairs.

"We have nothing more to throw on, knight commander!" He complained, exasperated.

Kayden stepped back as Otto ordered the man to come and help push. The Wyvern captain knew this was a losing game. No matter what they did, there was no way they could stop the mob from entering and killing a whole lot of men, even if they were hired thugs. They lived here, some had lovers, maybe even children. Time seemed to slow as he pondered, his mind going to work. He was a good duelist, a better lover, but he was an unmatched strategist. Many lords and intellectuals who fancied themselves chess masters were unhappy whenever they tried to challenge him to a game. Alcohol? Fire? No. Pendulums? Collapsing the stairwell? Images flashed through his mind, and the moments seemed to drag until an idea burst forth out of his mind.

"Take that table off the barrier!" Kayden ordered the men. "Get me a bottle of wine! Morek I need you and Gerhardt upstairs."

Everyone stopped to look at him. Even the tumult outdoors grew more slothful as if the gods themselves were curious. Otto looked at him like he had sprouted four appendages out of his abdomen and revealed himself as the chief baby eater of the courts of chaos. Even More looked perplexed. However, an urgent look from the captain set his men and the dwarf to grab a table, before Otto tried to stop them. Morek shoved the man out of the way.

"You curs! You're in league with them!" Otto snarled as he drew his sword. His knights followed suit, the sound of steel echoing across the timber halls.

"Stand down!" Calliope ordered, her soprano voice thundering down the central stairway. She watched over the conflict like a perched black wyrm deciding which of her subjects she might devour. The noblewoman raised a well trimmed eyebrow at Otto when he whirred to face her. Kayden heard another shove from outside, and during this small reprieve, his longbowmen began to grab the table off the top and set it down at the foot of the stairs at Kayden's bidding. Otto's men waited for an order. It came from the sorceress. "Listen to Captain Caladwarden and do as he says."

Otto glowered at her, and Kayden was unable to predict his next move, but after a few tense moments, the knight capitulated. The next few minutes passed by extremely quickly, followed by a very long minute that seemed to last an eternity. Kayden had heard time traveled strangely in the chaos wastes. He wondered if that's how it felt there, as he sat on his cushioned chair and awaited the assembled furniture to finally be pushed aside. A half a dozen toughs shoved their way in, only to find the most unlikely sight in front of them.

"Might I speak to herr Ernst?" Kayden asked calmly, pouring a second glass of wine. They looked at him, dumbfounded, and glanced around to see no longbowmen or knights. The lead one, a cleft lipped ruffian, stepped back slowly, and went to fetch his master. Ernst Ruttiger strode before them, confused as all hell, and gazed at Kayden with unmasked incredulity.

"What the hell are you playing at, traitor!?"

Kayden sat at a long table, with a bottle of wissenland's best and two glasses filled with red wine. He was alone. No men or dwarf in sight, no Calliope. Kayden's sword was on the table, as was his pistol. He smiled pleasantly at Ernst. "Why not come join me for some wine, herr Ruttiger?"

"Y- ..." Ernst's lips tried to form words, but they were unable to come. Vaguely he gestured at the wine as his men stepped back to allow him room to further gesticulate. "I asked you what the hell you're playing at!" He said angrily. "And put that poison away!" Kayden calmly poured some of Ruttiger's cup into his own, and took a sip. Even as he did so, Ruttiger cried out in frustration. "Stop it! Whatever you're doing I'm not falling for it!"

"I'm just inviting you in, sir," Kayden said, his hands out wide.

Ernst waved an accusatory finger at all the phantom assailants within the lobby, fumbling for the right words to sound dramatic. "Fuck all of you swindlers!" He said, and turned around to walk away. His men looked at one another, and Kayden waved them to come join him. He even gave them a wink, and they looked at one another and backed away. Kayden shrugged, as if to say 'your loss' and took another sip of the wine. It was quite delectable, though he's certainly had better. Somehow danger and drinking during the work shift made it taste all the sweeter. Outside, there was a loud clrack! Dust and the hot outside air billowed into the room, as did Ruttiger and his handful of men.

"Well, it seems the second part of the trap worked after all." Kayden remarked idly, as longbowmen, riflemen, and knights stepped out of the closets, their weapons in hand and aimed pointedly in the direction of Ernst Ruttiger. One of the ruffians thought to tip the scales and charge Kayden, but the prince merely tossed the remainder of the wine in his face. He blinked, and the sting caused him to howl. Kayden pushed the chair back and stepped out from behind the table as Ernst and his men were trapped between a fallen bookshelf and the weapons of those inside the townhouse. The prince took hold of his sword, placed it under the chin of the ruffian that had charged him, and urged him to step back. He did so hurriedly.

"Now that we have your undivided attention, herr Ruttiger, I believe you have two choices." Kayden remarked, his sword point swinging to the pudgy merchant, who had begun to sweat even more than usual. "You can be our hostage, or our guest. One is decidedly more comfortable than the other. Either way, The Lady Blackwood awaits upstairs to discuss the terms of your legal transgressions."

The riot broke up after that, the miners unwilling to assault the building to retrieve their putative paymaster and the rest of the mob, always more interested in the excitement than the cause, began to break up to follow their own inclinations. The situation was much simplified when several local ale houses declared that the drinks would be free, each of them having been visited by a nondescript man who paid up front for their largess. At this news any steel that might have been left in the mob melted completely.

“I’m glad it is only rented,” Calliope said as she looked out over the ruin of the lower level of the house. Jagged holes had been hacked in the walls, and the gardens had been completely churned to mud by the booted feet of their attackers. Trash of various sorts, mostly empty bottles and the occasional discarded tool littered the ruin.

“As it is I will have the Daemons own time getting my deposit back,” Calliope grumbled. Ernst Ruttiger stared at her hatefully.

“What are you going to do with me?” he demanded, his anger partially tinged with fear.

“Do with you?” Calliope asked, arching a dark eyebrow. “Why master Ruttiger, I merely intend to turn you over to the baliffs when they arrive. At that point, given you are guilty of attempted murder, I imagine they will toss you in prison. Not, I trust, before they strip you over your mining interests in order to cover the money you owe me, and the damage to this charming townhouse.” As though the house could hear them, a section of the kitchen wall chose that moment to collapse in a shower of dust and masonry.

“I can pay you, I am an important man,” Ruttiger blustered. Calliope smiled, a cold and savage expression with more in common with an avalanche than an expression of human emotion.

“You WERE an important man,” she replied, “I suspect once those miners sober up, they will be just as happy to work for me, probably happier.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Ruttiger demanded, his lips trembling as though on the verge of tears.

“Do you recall the name Albrect Whittenwald?” Calliope asked, the unexpected venom in her voice making everyone wince.

“I… I can’t say that I do,” Ruttiger stammered. Calliope took a seat across from him, folding her arms on the table top.

“Strange, he came to you a few years ago, offering you his offices at the Imperial court to secure mining rights in exchange for a rather large loan,” Calliope said. Ruttiger looked confused and not a little scared; it was clear that he did remember the man but could not think of how it related to his current predicament.

“I make many such deals of course, politics and influence mean a great deal in my line of work,” Ruttiger admitted.

“Mine too,” Calliope replied coldly. “Do you know what Herr Wittenwald did with the money you provided him?”
“Of course not! It was simply business, what he spent it on is of no concern of mine!” Ruttiger protested.

“Ah.. but it is a concern of mine Herr Ruttiger,” Calliope replied, her voice uncharacteristically intense, all but caressing the words as they passed her lips. “It is of paramount concern to me.”

___________________

The sky was dark with a gathering storm as the column wound its way over the pass. The tramp of feet echoing off the cliff side and the cadences of Kayden’s marching troops filling the air. Calliope had forgone her carriage this morning and was riding her black stallion. The other horses didn’t seem to like the beast, sensing something fey and unnatural about the gleaming black steed.

“This is Bonnerhaven?” Kayden asked, as his horse drew level to Calliope’s. Mesmer and Otto rode behind her though the rest of the knights were at the rear of the column where the dust from their passage wouldn’t choke the foot troops.

“It isn’t much to look at,” he commented. Calliope looked out over the spreading vale ahead of them. It was a month since Ruttiger had been turned over to the Baron’s justice and Calliope had leased his mining concerns to one of his former rivals, her interest in them not extending beyond paying Kayden’s men. Let others grub in the dirt she thought. The high summer was beginning to slide towards autumn and there was a blush of color that spread across the forests ahead of them. Bonnerhaven itself was a walled town on the far side of the valley, distinguishable from this distance by the spires of its church, its dilapidated stone walls and the pall of smoke rising from its cook fires. The landscape around it was golden with grain fields, ripe and ready for the harvest which would begin in a few days judging by the various offerings to bundled wild flowers which hung from the intermittent oak trees which grew in the spaces between fields. According to peasant legend Taal despised that forests should be cut down to create fields and that each year he swore to destroy them with rain and ice. The flowers were offerings to his wife Rhya who, the legend went, interceded with her husband each year, just long enough for the growing season to pass. These were richer lands than those they had left, Solland was a marginal region but this far westward was usually safe from the depredations of the green skins. Large orc attacks would sweep through here but the kind of constant, low intensity raiding which kept the eastern most part of the province hard scrabble and poor didn’t extend this far.

“It is the cycle of life to death, death to life. There is a beauty in it,” Calliope responded, thinking of the crops rather than whatever tactical vista the mercenary saw.

“I prefer life while it can be had,” Kayden responded.

“Yet you follow a profession of death?” Calliope observed wryly.
“The idea is that the enemy does the dying,” Kayden countered.

“And yet a dead man is no one’s enemy, not this far from Sylvania anyway,” Calliope replied. Otto made the sign of the hammer and Mesmer growled in an uncharacteristic display of anger.

Further discussion was interrupted as one of Kayden’s scout cantered up the line to speak with his commander. The boy was young and looked like the hay hadn’t yet been knocked from his hair but Kayden swore he was one of the best he had seen at his trade. The scout pulled on his reins the wiry horse curveting in a tight circle.

“We have scouted around the lake sir,” the scout reported, “all clear and an adequate camp.”

“Very good Waldstein,” Kayden replied, “have the troops leave the road wherever makes sense.” The scout touched his brow in respect then headed back along the column at a trot.

“A town the size of Bonnerhaven would have no trouble supporting this many men,” Otto remarked in a neutral tone that trumped what he thought of Calliope’s direction to encamp the men several miles from the city.

“No doubt, but it does not serve my purposes to arrive with an army,” Calliope responded, a touch acidly at having her decision questioned even implicitly.

“Captain Caradwalden can bring supplies here by wagon and no one will be alarmed,” she continued. Kayden performed what Calliope thought of as his ‘your paying’ shrug, though she privately suspected he also would rather billet his men in town. Otto nodded his head though Calliope suspected that if she turned around he would be rolling his eyes.

“Twenty mercenaries and five knights should be a sufficient escort for a noblewoman,” Calliope continued, “you may rotate each day to give your troops a chance to drink and rut in Bonnerhaven.”

“Can you explain what exactly you will be doing while we are… drinking and rutting?” Kayden asked pleasantly.

“I need to look up an old acquaintance, he has something I need and I want it back,” Calliope responded.

“And is he likely to give up this mysterious item if you ask politely?” Kayden asked. Calliope grinned in a malevolent fashion. Above them thunder rumbled in the sky.

“There is always a first time…”

"Everything in order, Captain?" Calliope asked Kayden as he dismounted at the camp, taking a small moment to eye the camp herself to know its exact location. Nestled in a small valley a few miles from Bonnerhaven, they had made sure to keep themselves behind the curve of the sloping treeline so their campfires could not be seen from the city walls. Even paranoid Kayden did not believe there would be too much cause for concern, but it paid to be careful.

"Indeed, my lady." Kayden remarked smoothly, sharing a smile. "Drinking and rutting are a soldier's favorite pastime, and with your generous payments, the men now have their chance."

"Be sure to get your fill," Otto sneered, and Kayden did his best to hide a smirk. No doubt he had expected the Wyvern's month long contract to not find an extension, and what's more, Calliope and Kayden had been spending hours after dark together. Though contrary to Otto's jealouslies, it was so far innocent. When she had renegotiated the contract, she had offered to play a game of chess with Kayden, having heard from his men he was quite good. When he politely declined, she offered to increase their pay by 600 crowns. He took her up on the offer, and while he won, much to her frustration, Kayden was impressed at how close the game had been.

Despite his familiarity with debate and his education, Kayden did not consider himself an intellectual. He enjoyed three things. Strategy, tactics, and women, which meant he was quite good with all three as well, and when the Lady Blackwood offered more games to beat him, it let him get a taste of all three during their trek north. He almost never lost a game, and Calliope warned him he was not to let her win. Eventually, she did defeat him twice with cunning manipulations. Considering he was somewhat of a savant at it, that spoke volumes of her brilliance. During the long hours, they spoke and debated, trading witticisms, though she was very vague about her ultimate goals. He did not pry too hard, and oddly enough, the knowledge she was a death wizardess that could obliterate him if he displeased her added a bit of spice to the almost nightly tête-à-tête. He had certainly grown more fond of her, though it was difficult to know if the feeling was mutual.

"That's very kind, Otto, but I must see to my men first. Maybe later I could enjoy myself, but I will simply be escorting them in and out." Kayden admitted.

"How noble," Otto remarked, sarcasm dripping from his lips. Kayden decided to act as if he did not notice.

"Your compliment means the world to me."

Calliope gave Kayden a look that told him to knock it off, and then turned to give Otto a more baleful expression that shut him up immediately. She turned her horse to the left, controlling the beast with expert handling. "We will be in touch, Captain. Be sure to keep your men in line."

"We serve at your pleasure," Kayden responded, giving her a deep bow. "I can keep the pawns in check, as you do the knights."

She failed to hide a smirk. "Indeed." Before she cantered off on her black stallion. The Knights rode behind her, forming a small V shape, with her at the head. As the small contingent rode out of the valley, the wyverns had begun to erect tents and gather firewood, setting cookfires and organizing sentries. Kayden's next hour was a flurry of activity, as both men and women were vying for first dibs of the town, and others wished to be last for various reasons. Another hour, and he was at the head of twenty men and five women, unarmed save for their sidearms and in their padded jacks and civilian clothes.

The town of Bonnershaven was clearly a prosperous one. As Calliope and her escort rode in the townsfolk made way for them respectfully. The citizenry seemed cheerful and in good humor, many of them wearing ribbons, rosettes and other signs of the upcoming harvest festivals. The streets were broad and neatly cobbled, lined with neat shops and half timbered dwellings.

“At least it will be easy to provision,” Kayden observed, his tone a little disdainful as they swept a couple of city watchmen playing dice in front of a tavern. They didn’t look like much to Calliope, though she supposed an expert like Caradwalden would find more faults than she could in the slovenly plumpish men.

“I’m somewhat surprised they are so lax this close to Blackfire Pass,” Calliope observed. Kayden made a gesture tilting his hand first one way then the other.

“Don’t judge the greenskins by the pace of my people,” he cautioned her, a note of pride in his voice.

“They can flair up quick for sure, but they would waste time looting and burning as they moved west, by the time they got here people would have plenty of warning, and have sent west for aid from the bigger towns towards Nuln, all they would have to do is fort up and sit tight until help arrived,” he explained. Looming ahead of them Bonnershaven keep seeming to make his point for him. It was a massive castle built onto a large stone outcrop with several circular towers. A large moat, partially natural but supplemented by the work of picks and shovels, separated it from the city proper with a large stone bridge the only method of access. The size and style of it looked more Brettonian than the Imperial style she had seen closer to Altdorf and she said as much.

“Guns,” Otto replied, breaking into the conversation for the first time.

“Altdorf has to worry about civil unrest and a few cannon make short work of tall stone walls, that is why they are so much thicker and lower, to withstand shot. They don't have to worry about the greenskins bringing a siege train.” They were moving across the bridge at a trot now and passing under a great gatehouse. The soldiers here looked little better than the city watch, but at least they were at their posts.
“Lady Calliope Blackwood and companions!” the periwigged major domo announced before rapping the butt of an ironshod staff on the flagstones. The Baron’s audience chamber was a large chilly stone room, somewhat warmed by the lush tapestries which had been hung on every available surface. The tapestries seemed to depict hunting scenes for the most part, and there were enough stuffed animal heads to suggest that the baron or his forebears were keen hunters. The current baron was young, perhaps not yet twenty and he lounged on a wooden throne looking board with proceedings. Calliope walked the dozen paces to stand in front of the youth. She offered a curtsey that was shallow enough to make the boy sit up with a slightly irritated look in his eyes.

“An honor to meet you Baron Von Wrolth,” Calliope said politely.

“And you Lady Blackwood, though I confess I have not heard of your family,” he replied, looking her up and down with the combined frankness of a young man and an aristocrat used to getting what he wanted.

“We are an Averland family my lord, northern Averland close to the Moot,” she provided. She might as well have declared she was from the moon for all the comprehension or interest the boy seemed to show in that.

“And what brings you to Bonnershaven?” Von Wrolf asked, his tone clearly indicating she should move it along.

“My men and I merely wish to pass through your territory my lord, there are some hundred men under arms in addition to my company here,” she clarified. Von Wrolf sat up at this, clearly surprised.

“You have an army?” he demanded. An older man in a rust colured doublet, clearly a senior advisor leaned in and tried to whisper something, but the Baron waved him off with irritation.

“Hardly an army my lord,” Calliope replied smoothly, “merely some troops I am maintaining, I have certain claims I wish to press back in Averland and am travelling there. We would be pleased to purchase provisions and the like in the normal course of things.”
“Well so long as they don’t enter the city…”

The doors to a side chamber flew open and a tall man in emerald robes all but ran into the room. He was handsome and athletic looking despite the gnarled staff he gripped in one hand.

“My lord! This woman is not who she claims to be!” the newcomer snapped. There was a rasping of steel as a dozen guards drew swords. The Baron, fully wake now, all but started to his feet in confusion.

“She is Calliope the Black, a sorceress of the Amethyst College and of ill reputation besides,” the green clad man declared.

“Ranulf?” Calliope asked, arching an eyebrow in surprise. He gave her a sidelong glare but didn’t respond.

“Is this a true witch?” the advisor demanded, stepping between Calliope and the Baron. Otto stepped forward and slapped the man hard across the face.

“How dare you, we will meet on the field and…” further words were drowned out by shouts and scrapes as the guards closed in and panicked hangers on began to flee. The wizard, Ranulf, lifted his hands and began to chant but Calliope thrust out a hand and he crumpled to his knees clutching his stomach.

“ENOUGH!” Calliope roared, her voice howling like the wind through a graveyard. The sonic shock of it momentarily stunned the assembly.

“Sir Otto will withdraw his challenge, if his opponent will agree to keep a civil tongue in his head,” Calliope declared. She let her hand drop and Ranulf gasped in relief. Almost idly, she kicked the staff away from him, sending it skittering across the floor.

“Mon dieux!” a mustachioed Brettonian in a rich cream doublet remarked, shaking his head at the crudity of Imperial Court life.

“Are you truly a w…sorceress?” Baron Von Wrolf demanded. Whatever else the boy was he was certainly no coward having hardly flinched when the situation seemed close to violence.

“I am a Magister of the Amethyst Order,” Calliope confirmed, drawing gasps from some of the assembled crowd.

“I am also Lady Calliope Blackwood, Calli the Black is something of a play on my familial name,” she explained.

“Yet you did not introduce yourself as such?” Von Wrolf asked. Calliope shrugged.

“I am not required to, nor is it appropriate in this company, you might just as well introduce yourself as Von Wrulf the Hunter,” she explained. The baron seemed unconvinced and he cut his eyes to his battered advisor.

“Very well, you will provide my major domo with the location of your camp, once we are sure your men are of no threat you will be permitted to pass, and to purchase such supplies as you require,” the Baron declared.

“My Lord…” Ranulf interjected, having regained his feet but not yet having had the courage to try to retrieve his staff. The boy held up his hand to silence the wizard.

“You may go Lady Blackwood, the rest of you, this audience is over.” Calliope was already striding from the room before the major domo’s staff struck the floor.