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."