Ebengrenzstadt
Alberic and Vassos speak about the recruits, new and old faces arrived
Cowritten between @Badarby, @InfamousGuy101, and @Dyelli Beybi

The recruits stood in an uneven line, shoulders slouched and blades wavering like fishing rods in the hands of men who’d never seen the sea.

"Watch!" Alberic barked the command again and slashed his own sword through the air, one hand only, a clean diagonal cut, then the quick follow-through in the Monchian corsair’s style. The hay dummy in front of him took the blows without flinching, straw spilling where the steel had bitten in practice after practice.

“Again,” Alberic snapped. The dozen or so recruits stumbled through the motion, sluggish and clumsy. A few nearly dropped their blades, one lost his footing entirely, Alberic’s jaw tightened. Too many men to train and too few worth training. And the veterans? Posted on guard, not wasting hours here in the yard.

For a moment, Alberic let his thoughts wander. Warrin was somewhere across the mainland raising hell while he stood here babysitting boys with sticks. Anger seethed under his ribs, he had chosen to stay. Chosen wrong, perhaps. With Coralie’s envoy gone and no bargain struck, what had he achieved? Nothing but dull blades and wasted time. He noticed Vassos lingering at the edge of the yard, watching the display with what seemed to be a disapproving eye. Alberic exhaled hard through his nose, strode over, and spoke before the man could get a word in.

“I’m doing the best I can with what I’ve got. Which isn’t much. We can’t spare the skilled men, we need them on the walls," he said.

"We don't need veterans on the walls, bring them back," Vassos looked over what was going on in the yard with his usual inscrutable expression. "Let the town watch do what the town watch does. The most important thing we can do is drill the musketeers to reload quickly and to recognize the signal to withdraw into the pike square. The pikemen need to be able to move in formation and brace their weapons. Fencing instruction is... fine... but we don't need fencing masters. We need a battalia who can hold formation over rough terrain and maintain discipline under fire."

Alberic gave a short nod, “You’re not wrong,” he admitted.

“Marcus has already been running a troop through pike drills, brace, line march, how to rally when the shot comes close. He’s better at that than I am, so I’ve left it to him. But even he’ll tell you the same problem I will: we don’t have enough muskets. We’ve got arquebuses in decent number, but true muskets? Those are few, and fewer still in working order. I can’t drill men to fire what we don’t have.”

He looked back at the awkward line of recruits, one still fumbling to keep his grip on the blade, "I’ll give this lot what I can, if that means musket practice one man at a time, then so be it. But don’t dismiss the steel, Vassos. No formation ever held forever, not against cavalry or sudden breaks. When it comes down to it, these men will meet an enemy face to face, so best they know how to put a blade to use than stand frozen when the pikes splinter.”

While Vassos and Alberic spoke to each other, horse noises could be heard as a guard guided two armored men on horses to the Lieutenant Colonel. Closer look at the two men would reveal one of them to be the familiar face of Sir Loan.

“Here is the Lieutenant-Colonel my Lord,” the guide said to Loan and the other man, one clean shaven and looking a few years younger.

“Thank you, soldier,” Loan said to the guide before smiling at the direction of Vassos and Alberic. The soldier bowed and walked away.

“Hello there, good gentlemen,” he called out, waving at Vassos and Alberic, having the horse walk closer to the Lieutenant Colonel. “It’s been a while but the royal detachment has arrived.

“And the man next to me is Prince Edwin, leading this detachment in the name of the King,” he added, introducing the other man. The prince bowed in respect to the colonel.

“It is an honor to meet the Lieutenant Colonel of the Regiment of Lady Andronika,” Edwin replied. “We have brought around 3,000 men as part of the King’s detachment in support of Lady Andronika’s regiment.”

For a moment the Alberic only studied the prince, then he gave a small bow, stiff but respectful, the movement of a man more at ease on a deck than in a court.

“Your Highness,” Alberic said, voice steady, “Three thousand men is no small gift. You have my thanks, and the thanks of every soldier in Lady Andronika’s service. I am Captain Alberic Thorel, at your service.”
"Your Highness," Vassos swept off his hat, offering a practice bow, "Our Lady will doubtless be grateful for the detachment, though I must preemptively offer her apologies for not being here. The Lady Andronika is travelling to meet with the Elga Prince in the West to secure Alliance that will allow her to be restored to her rightful throne."

Edwin nodded at both Vassos and Alberic's introductions. “It makes sense for her to meet with a potential ally in the West, the split between the two Princes of the Haltians is a surprising yet welcoming development.”

“Praise the Divine Family that the split occured,” he added. “Even with the fires emerging across the territories of the Empire, a unified Haltian would be a much tougher force to face than a divided one.”

"I would have said an impossible one," Vassos opined, before adding, "It has taken some time to negotiate but Orrian has acknowledge the Lady as 'Queen of the Humans'. It would seem he is not interested in direct rule of the Mittelvolk or the Inburians."

Alberic stood quiet as Vassos and the prince exchanged words, listening more than speaking. Politics wasn’t his craft; he’d been raised on the deck of a ship, not in the halls of lords. Still, even he could see the weight of what Vassos was saying. If Orrian truly recognized Andronika as “Queen of the Humans,” then perhaps they had the first solid stone laid for something greater than a rebellion. At least one thing was finally leaning in their favor after the mess with Coralie.

He let his eyes drift past the prince to the mass of mismatched recruits still fumbling with blades in the yard. His stomach tightened. Three thousand new soldiers, trained, armed, disciplined... on parchment it looked like salvation, but in truth it meant nothing unless they could be molded into something that held the line when the Haltian banners appeared.

Turning back, Alberic finally spoke, his tone steady.

“Titles and alliances are well and good, but what we need is an army that can stand. Our priority has to be drilling every man. With your detachment, Your Highness, we can at least bolster our defenses and our men's training. But we need to consult with Lady Andronika at once as to where our broader strategy lays now."

"Our broader strategy is to secure this Alliance," Vassos replied with a glance at Edwin, "This will secure us the backing of the finest soldiers on the continent and the ability to recruit and train in Mitteland... if, of course, Orrian can follow up on his earlier victory and drive his brother East. Which, incidentally, is why I would guess, once she returns, we will be marching to join up with Orrian."

“Plus one less enemy army to fight is always a sound strategy,” Loan chipped in. “And we already have many armies as is that could be an enemy outside of the Eastern forces.”

Co-Write Between Terrans and @Dyelli Beybi

The Journey across the Empire had been largely uneventful. Kreznik had had more of an opportunity to get to know Vestele over the course of their journey. The young elga maiden shared Andronika's improper, often risqué sense of humour, which explained why the pair got on so well, though there was also a haughtiness and arrogance to her that could rub people up the wrong way; she seemed to think herself untouchable.

They had cut across country towards Alveby, meeting no resistance along the way. At a couple of points, horsemen were spotted on the horizon, though they had given the group a wide berth, apparently with no interest in engaging in a fight with a large group of Lancers. They had managed to find lodging most nights, despite the wariness of the locals. Andronika did not tell them who she was and most people probably assumed Vestele was the one being escorted.

Several days into the march, as the group entered into the shade of a copse of trees - a welcome respite from the beating of the sun, one of the outriders came galloping back, reigning in at the head of the column, where Captain Gredi, the elgamann in charge of the troop of Lancers was riding, "Captain... villagers up ahead are formed up in front of the town as if expecting trouble. Fowling pieces and farming implements for the most part."

Gredi nodded, swivelling in his saddle to face Kreznik, "Sir, can you have your men screen this copse while my men don armour?" The Lancers had heavy armour, though they had taken to not wearing it during the march to prevent heat exhaustion, "We should also send a group forward to see if we can get them to disperse."

"I'll go," Andronika volunteered.

"No, your Highness, you will not," Gredi replied firmly, "Though a human emissary is a good idea."

Kreznik lowered the canteen he had been about to drink from. A frown on his face.

“Bruic!!” The summons yielded a slightly older looking Hound. Worry pulling at his brows as Kreznik jutted a chin at their next path. “Trouble down the road. Have the lads mount up and hold the edge of the trees…. and send me Liam and Shara. ”

Bruic for his part gave a short salute before bounding off in the direction of the Hound’s horses. The increasing tempo of hooves clomping, neighing and the raised voices of men accompanied the cloud of dirt that signaled the Hounds departure.

Satisfied, Kreznik turned his attention back to the conversation. “I’ll go see what the problem is. While you… “ An accusatory finger pointed at Andronika. “… Will stay here safely under the eye of your loyal troops.”

Andronika pouted, folding her arms dramatically, though she didn't otherwise protest.

"Hold, a moment," Gredi nodded to one of his troopers, "Hamon, attach something white to your lance and go with him, let them see a flag of truce."

Kreznik mounted his horse, pulling the reigns slightly to reign in Victor as the horse circled in excitement. The troopers were in the processing of making their flag of truce when Liam and Shara arrived; looking the part of young calvary troopers.

“Liam with me. Shara stay with her highness and ensure nothing rash occurs.” The assassin turned spymaster, upon seeing the lance readied, gave a kick of his heels. The party trotting off forwards the forming formation of farmers.

"What do you think I'm going to do?" Andronika asked, raising an eyebrow, "I'm not going to come running out and derail your conversation... I don't take uncalculated risks."

Kreznik didn't bother with a verbal response. Figuring a proactive measure couldn't hurt when it came to reigning in her 'calculated risks'.

The odd party of Kreznik, Liam and the flag bearing lancer eventually breaking from the cover of the trees into the open. Kreznik abreast of the lancer with Liam to the assassin's left.

The group assembled up the path from them didn't look all that well prepared for battle. A gaggle of farmers with farming tools and hunting implements. There were a couple of old pikes in the mix, though there weren't enough to form a coherent block. They were dressed like labourers without much in the way of armour to go around - just the odd rusty helmet. There were probably around 100 of them.

"Clubmen," the lancer commented under his breath, "They've become an issue amongst the Mittelvolk. Clubs of local men form together to protect their villages from the armies. They spring up like mushrooms."

“Well luckily for them we aren’t here to do battle.” Kreznik replied. His voice barely holding back a yawn; raising a hand from the reigns to greet the militia of Clubmen.

The traveling band eventually staggering to a halt just outside what they all hoped to be the range of the Clubmen muskets.

“Lo Villagers. “ Kreznik cupped his hands for a makeshift horn. “Is there a headman or mayor I can talk to?”

There seemed to be little understanding. Some muttering amongst the villagers, "You don't speak their language do you?" the lancer asked. Clearly he didn't. He was probably from the far west, "I don't think any of them speak Inburian."

Kreznik gave a sigh as his eyes looked to the sky. Searching his memory for what language they spoke here.

The Order had taught him well and Kreznik had always appreciated his language training. In another life he might have fancied himself a linguist,

But alas he was here.

He tired Quinian first. The accent acceptable but obviously foreign.

“Greetings.”

There was no sign of them having registered anything. A few of the firearm armed troops looked edgy.

Calarian came next. Frustration slightly evident in the frontier dialect he affected.

For good measure he tried again in Low Haltian.

Which was the point where somebody fired a shot. It was poorly aimed by an inexperienced gunner and the shot went high, thrumming over Kreznik's head.

"Think it's time we head back!" the lancer snatched at his horse's reigns, turning around. The shot seemed to have enboldened some of the other peasants who were levelling weapons or otherwise preparing to attack.

“So much for flags of truce.” Kreznik sounded non-pleased as he wheeled Victor around. “ I can’t remember what language they speak out here.”

Liam for his part was silent. Though he did cast a glance back as the trio made their way back to their respective forces.

The lancers meanwhile, had had time to get their armour on and they drew up in front of the copse in a long line, two riders deep, the sun gleaming off polished cuirsses, helmet and spear tips. The odd panicked shot was let off in their direction with no effect. They were too far out of range.

As Gredi road out to take charge of his troops, Andronika abruptly hitched up her skirts racing after them, "Captain, one moment!" He reigned in, letting her catch up, "Remember these are ultimately my people. I appreciate that it appears fighting is necessary, but try not to commit more slaughter than is necessary."

Gredi paused, his expression inscrutalbe, then nodded, "Aye your Highness, we can avoid too much bloodshed amongst the villagers."

As he rode out, Andronika, thankfully for those actually tasked with her safety, retreated back to the carriage and the foot guards encircling it.

Abruptly a trumpet call split the air and the lancers began to advance forward at a walk, keeping their formation tight and line straight as they advanced on the villagers.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," Vestele piped up from where she was seated in the carriage, her tone characteristically dry, "But look North. There's more of them on the far side of that stone wall," She offered Kreznik her spyglass as Andronika fell in beside the carriage, "Anyone might think they had been hiding back there waiting for that trumpet. Almost like they deliberately lured our lancers away from the train." she remarked casually, "Someone has been teaching the peasants tactics."

Kreznik, haven taken the proffered spyglass, saw more of the same figures. Ragged lines and ill disciplined clubmen attempting to form up.

“I wonder if that someone is still among them?” Kreznik’s focus returned the glass and signaled for the Hounds.

The Hounds that still surrounded the copse began to form up. Readying their sabres and loading their muskets. Andronika’s forces were equipped as Dragoons for the most part. Though Kreznik had forgone the musket in favor of a pair of pistols; uncomfortable with the weight of the carbines.

Their pieces were not the fowling pieces of the clubmen; but there was a glaring problem.

“We are rather outnumbered here. Don’t fancy a charge.” Kreznik commented as he stuffed his first pistol into its holster and prepped the second.

Andronika looked about to hop down from the carriage but Vestele grabbed her arm, roughly keeping her inside. Her eyes met Kreznik's for a moment, seeimng to say 'you can thank me later'.

The peasants advanced towards the woods confidently enough, though as the first ragged volley from the guards set them crouching down fearfully as a few of their number fell. A few shots came back their way. One guard went down.

One of the lancers did as well, tumbling from his saddle with a cry of pain. The lancers formed up around the gap. Another trumpet sounded and they spurred their horses forward, lancers lowering in a neat and deadly row of steel and fluttering penants. Some of the peasants stood, some fled in the face of what was coming.

Kreznik barely spared a glance at his charge’s latest attempt. Instead, focusing on the flanking group of clubmen that moved closer despite the second volley he and the Hound sent their way.

Though his pistol probably hit nothing and Kreznik made a note to train with the longer weapons; to get over his dislike-

The spray of splinters from a near miss forced his mind back into the fight. The off tempo and ragged clubmen return volley going high for the most part.

Thought the scream of a Hound signaled one round had found it’s mark.

“Next volley; concentrate left!!!” The clubmen line was off centered. It’s left line closet and slightly out of the way. They would be easier targets if slightly. “Fire!!”

At the front of the formation, the clubmen vanished under the hooves of the lancers... the formation, if it could be called that, ceased to exist. If there were survivors they were fleeing back into the village with the lancers in hot pursuit.

The clubmen on their flank seemed to be faring better, firing scattered shots as several of their number went down. There was a growl from the carriage then the crunch of boots hitting the fallen leaf litter on the floor of the copse. Moments later Andronika was cradling an injured soldier. It seemed she couldn't help herself if she thought she could do some good.

“Shara!!!” Kreznik barked as the latest round of powder was hurriedly shoved into his appropriated musket. The previous owner’s blood still on the stock and now smearing his cheek. Comfort and familiarity having been eschewed as the second of their number had fallen.

The Hound, Shara, did her part by more or less bowling over Andronika. Shoving her into the space of the carriage’s wheel as she draped her body over her.

“Stay down your highness!!!”

The Hound’s formation had dissolved into individual firing, accurate but not composed the price of them being individual scouts and spies playing the part of soldiers.

"Let me to the injured," Andronika snarled, "I can help!"

There were casualties on their own side, but the clubmen were definitely wavering and, as the lancers began to bring their formation back into coherence they broke. At first a few men fleeing, which quickly turned into a route. The elga horsemen were not a unit anyone but the most well disciplined veterans would stand any chance against.

As the fighting stopped Vestele had also hopped down from the carriage, "It's impressive when a man knows how to handle his lance," she commented loudly, though keeping a completely straight face.

Kreznik blinked away the acrid stinging of gunsmoke. Setting down the borrowed musket and turning his attention back to his Hounds; now rallying under the reprieve the lancer’s rout had brought.

“Gather our wounded here. You three…” A gesture at three Hounds, face still taught with adrenaline, and the flanking Clubmen’s former advance. “… check their fallen. The usual lads.”

The hasty trio nodded and took a brief second to ensure their muskets were loaded and their Calvary sabres still attached before they made to remount and ride.

Kreznik turning his gaze back to Andronika. Who Shara was now hastily bringing to her feet with an expression of mixed apologies and fear. Though his gaze was on the heir.

“Was that an uncalculated risk?”

"Whatever the usual is... bring survivors here. I want to know why we came under attack," Andronika called as Shara helped her to her feet. She didn't seem overly put out by being tackled... despite the Royal aspirations, Andronika still thought like a farm girl. Laying hands on her was not the mortal insult it would be to others, "Besides," she added, "It's good for my subjects to meet their future Queen."

She paused, pursing her lips at the second question, raised an eyebrow then shook her head, "My dear Kreznik, I am willing to risk my life for any man or woman willing to risk theirs for me. This is an essential Chivalric value. I am a Hasikos and it is my duty to personify them. This is what I base my right to the Throne on... a name is great on paper, but I promise to embody something better than what we have. For everyone."

“Help as many wounded as you want. After…..” He jutted a finger towards the field of Clubmen casualty being examined by the trio of Hounds. “…..the shooting is over.”

A groan as a Hound helped his wounded compatriot stumble towards the carriage. Hands bloody and pressed over a weeping stomach wound. Liam appearing to prop up the casualties other side.

Out on the field, one Hound stuffed a pouch with bloodstained parchment and an almanac. Another pulled a trussed up clubmen onto his horse; the man’s foreign tongue obviously cursing as he kicked out with the leg not shattered by a musket ball.

Soon, a pair of wounded Clubmen joined the pair of wounded Hounds by the carriage.

"I don't know why we don't simply hang the man and be done with it," Payani grumbled to Louffen as the privateer approached the tent, flanked by several guards. They had the look of people from the South of the Circle Sea or, perhaps even Iktani. Either way, Marius did not like the way the man strutted as he approached the tent they had set up for their Queen. He was an imposing figure and looked like he thought he owned the camp.

"Now, now," Louffen whispered back, "If we hang him and, somehow, we lose the forthcoming battle, then his mistress will seek vengeance on all of us... hanging an emissary is not the done thing."

"He's a damned pirate," Payani shot back, though they left the exchange at that as by then the pirate was within earshot.

To their rear, still seated sat Ariana on a nice, carved wooden chair. It wasn't quite a throne, but it did give some semblance of regality to the girl.

The pirate stopped, sweeping off his hat in a well-practiced bow, "M'Lady Hasikos, it is an honour to meet you. General Momin Assinger, at your service." Addonian, Payani decided, though he still wasn't sure about the guards. They had an exotic look to them.

Ariana smiled, reacting instinctively to the man's courtesy and without thought for the likelihood of bloodshed in the near future, "The pleasure is all mine General Assinger." There was a moment's silence, that stretched on for perhaps a moment too long while both parties seemed to expect the other to say something, before Ariana realised he was waiting for her to speak first, "To what do we owe this honour?" she asked, a lot too politely for Payani's taste.

"The Empress Coralie sends her regards to her cousin and asks why you come to these lands with armed men? The Empress wishes it to be known that she has no quarrel with you, M'Lady. Haltian forces still oppress the good people of Inbur, forcing them to work as slaves in the fields and mines. Haltian Lords and merchants keep the profit of their endeavors. The lands you enter are already liberated from the Empire." He paused, though not long enough for anyone else to start speaking, "The Empress suggests that you go North. Save our people there."

Ariana started to open her moth, but Payani got there faster, feeling his cheeks redden at the gall of the Addonian pirate, "Coralie D'Ambois is no Empress; she is a damnable pirate. We march to put an end to her raids on the coast and her ludicrous claims to the Crown of Inbur. Her head is far more suited to adorn a spike atop the walls of that fair city than to wear its crown. What is worse, she openly dines and makes deals and arrangements with the very same Haltians she claims to be liberating us from! For shame, the hypocrisy!"

Assinger looked a little taken aback by the tirade, the corner of his oiled beard twitching as if he sought to grimace or form a smirk - it was hard to tell which. He paused for a few moments, before responding, his tone perfectly level, "The Empress," he said, emphasising the title, "Has a treaty with the local Imperial Commander to ensure that peace is preserved on the coast and to ensure the Calarian menace is kept in check. This is not a Treaty with the Haltian Emperor, just one man and it has prevented the Calarians from constructing their own Empire in the rubble of the Haltian one."

"You are pirates, nothing more," Payani declared dismissively.

Assinger's dark eyes flicked from him, to Ariana and back. There was a faint gleam there that Payani did not much like, "In that case, M'Lady," he addressed Ariana, "I fear we have very little more to discuss. If we must to battle, then to battle we will go and may God favour the righteous."

---

The young princess was not at all what Arel had expected. Not only was she headstrong, and clear that she was in command, but she received his note asking her to meet him on a balcony overlooking the rose garden and came without bringing backup, though he noticed a dirk in a prettily decorated white scabbard, nestled amongst the skirts of her prettily embroidered white dress.

He allowed his eyes to take her in, the dark intelligent eyes, the sun-kissed Inburian complexion, the low cut of her dress. On a warm summer's night, with the heady sweet scent of roses wafting up from below, it was always a pleasure to be in the presence of a beautiful woman.

"Good evening Sir," she greeted politely, moving to lean over the balcony next to Arel, almost daring him to try to push her. Though if she expected that treachery, she did not know him that well... or understand the value her Alliance brought to the Court in the West.

"Good evening M'Lady," he replied, moving to stand next to her, "It is beautiful is it not? Perhaps a sign of Imperial decadence, but beautiful nonetheless."

She laughed dryly, "I sometimes find a little decadence can be fun, though don't tell your Emperor that!"

Arel paused a moment, then laughed with her, shaking his head, "I guess you need to get out of the saddle sometimes... listen, I know you'll be meeting the Emperor in person together. There will be pageantry and bluster, but I wanted to be sure you know what, under all of that, is being offered."

"You don't want me to give a knee jerk reaction to being asked to bend the knee?" she asked, turning to face Arel, one eyebrow coolly arched, "And throw a match into the proverbial powder store. You needn't worry. Perhaps surprisingly, given I'm styling myself a royal, pride is not my sin."

The comment drew another laugh from Arel, "Well that is good to hear. Yes, that is what I was concerned about, truth be told... but since I have you here, I'll give you the details of what is on offer anyway. Mitteland is yours. Inbur is yours. We will keep the old Empire and Krain. You will acknowledge the suzerainty of Emperor Orrian and pay us some nominal amount in gold which will increase once the war is over. We will give you arms and a war chest to start your campaign and we hope you will raise a significant force in Mitteland... enough for us to pursue a joint campaign against Voron in Inbur, once he is driven out of Mitteland. Our spies suggest he is considering moving his court to that city if this summer's campaign does not go in his favour."

"You think the Mittelvolk will flock to the banner of a liberator?" she queried.

Arel nodded in confirmation, "And, truth be told, we have no desire to rule the human lands either. Yes, conquest is glorious, but managing these territories has degraded the Elgafolk way of life. We are becoming something we were not meant to be."

Andronika nodded slowly, thoughtfully, "So we both win? I just need to curtsey and kiss Orrian's ring," she smirked slightly, "I think I can manage."

"We'll also need your army to meet up with ours on the march to Elvesland to face the pretender," Arel added, "I know your force is currently small and won't make a huge difference, but it is symbolically important your forces are there."

"I'll get Kreznik to send work back to get moving immediately," she said, raising her voice a little, for some reason.

"And I fully expect that, in ten years time, when your Kingdom is properly established, you'll refuse to pay us the gold you agree to pay tomorrow and we'll end up meeting on the battlefield where either we'll win, and impose an even greater tribute or you'll win and declare yourself Empress."

It was Andronika's turn to laugh, "Is that right?" she asked, though the hint of amusement in her voice suggested she had already planned to do exactly that.

"Well I suppose these months of peace were going to be broken sooner or later," she shook her head, offering up a confused shrug, without pausing in her pacing of the room. The Iktani Halberdiers who formed her personal guard were impassive, as always, "But by Ariana? I'd have thought she might have worked to create a chokehold around the city rather than try to dig me out."

She gave an exasperated sigh, then stopped, turning to face Assinger fully, forcing a smile onto her face, "I am sorry, old friend... we still have no word back from the mission to the Doel Union and the war chest is beginning to look a little light. Did you have a chance to take a look at the army that has come down here to face us?"

Assinger nodded, "I did... I didn't get a good count, but it seems large, larger than us. There is a core of veteran troops, ex-Owned men, from the looks of some of them, though most are enthusiastic peasants. We have better arms, equipment and training... though I would caution you from assuming that gives us an insurmountable advantage. The Empire had better arms and equipment at Rodelkog."

Ariana nodded, "Send word to the Colonels to make the troops ready to march out tomorrow at dawn," she paused momentarily then hurried over to a table in the corner where a map of the local area was laid out, "Momin!" she called, and Assinger followed her, looking to where she was pointing, "Am I correct in saying they are here, approaching from the North down this road?"

Assinger nodded, "As far as I am aware."

"Then tell the Colonels we march for -" she tapped a small town on the map, "That place... Katalani. We should arrive before the Reds, which will give our men time to rest before the fighting. Also, send a messenger to General Viryarus, see if he is willing to join us. Even if he sees conflict between us as inevitable, having Ariana breathing down his neck with her horde of peasant rabble, would be a far more concerning prospect for him than we are. Let him know to meet us at Katalani."

"As you wish," Assinger gave a polite bow, retreating from her company.

D'Ambois remained hunched over the maps, studying them. Another bloody day for her people lay ahead. One she had not expected, "Damned stupid girl," she muttered, eyeing the spot on the map where Ariana's army was supposed to be, "You could have gone for the jewel in the crown, but instead you go for me. Do you even have anywhere to retreat back to if this goes wrong?"

Ariana paused, the cogs in her brain whirring like those of the pendant-watch she wore around her neck, a small smile forming on her lips. As corcerning as it was, Ariana's rashness also provided an opportunity.

@Bingelly

The woman was middle aged, ruddy faced, with long hair that was probably once blond now streaked with grey that fell over her shoulder in tangled braids greasy from days living on the land. She kept her hands raised as she was circled by riders bearing the Black banner even while she kept her hands raised. "I bear dhe message for your lady sirs! Ees sealed. Ya see, yeah?" Slowly she produced an envelope, sealed in red wax. "For your Lady Empress Coralie. I to bring eet to her."

---

Coralie was getting fitted for a suit of armour when Assinger read the letter from 'S' to her. She winced slightly as the aid fastened the breastplate to the backplate, "It's a bit tight across the chest," she commented.

"It's a good fit," Assinger replied, from where he stood, propped against one of the wooden pillars in the manor house they used as their headquarters, "But I suppose the armour is designed for a man rather than a woman and you aren't used to wearing the stuff either... were you listening to what I was saying?"

"What? Oh... of course. Someone has given us the order of battle for the Red Army. Useful, but not something we couldn't verify with scouts anyway," Coralie replied distractedly, as the armourer approached her with e blackened lobster-pot helmet, "I'd rather just wear a secrete under a hat," she informed him, "I find the others rather heavy."

"It does imply the Reds don't field too many more troops than we do," Assinger commented, bringing the conversation back to the letter.

"It does... though I don't like the means by which we received this information," she pursed her lips, shaking her head slightly, "I don't like people who sell out their liege. If this 'S' will give up Ariana's secrets, there's no reason they wouldn't do the exact same thing to us if the wind blows in a different direction."

"True enough," Assinger nodded, standing up properly and stretching his shoulders as he prepared to depart, "So what do you want me to do with it."

"Nothing... for now," Coralie replied, "If the battle goes our way and this 'S' decides he wishes to join with us, he may. For now though, we assume every man marching under the Red Wyvern is an enemy."

Andronika might have been surprised, or perhaps she expected, th greeting she received as she returned to her quarters.

“So now we are joined to another faction; on the march to fight another. Or at least we will be after tomorrow. ” Kreznik chimed from the corner of her quarters; peeling an apple. The slightest of dust on his boots hinting at the ledge he must have perched on to overhear her conversation with Arel.

A slice of apple disappearing as he took in her ensemble. A look crossing his face with an upraised eyebrow.

“Did he offer a marriage as well to seal this deal in advance?” His tone dry but a slight tightness in his shoulders.

A breath released it and he set the apple not a paternalist it’s peeled skin.

“Anyways, I took the liberty of sending a runner back to the main body. I assumed you would approve.”

@Dyelli beybi

******

Ebengrenzstadt

It was with little fanfare that the Hound made his way into the White’s headquarters. His horse exhausted and the the rider little better off. Liam Calvary uniform bore the hard miles of his sprint as he made his way past the gauntlet of guards, aides and officers that had seemingly increased in his absence. No doubt a consequence of the three thousand extra men that had arrived.

The Hound clutched the dispatch as he surmounted the final pair of guards for the war room.

Loan, Alberic and Vassos discussing something of the army that had sprung in Andronika’s absence.

“Sirs.” He started. To the uninformed; his calvary uniform and markings were that of the regular army. To those of the inner circle; he was clearly a Hound. Which meant his word could only have come from a few people as the majority of the inner circle was within walking distance. “Spymaster Broeke sends word. We have an alliance with the imperials in the west. The army is to march for Elvesland. We will meet the Lady and the western imperials on the road.

He passed over the dispatch. The simple seal of a dogs head on the parchment. The words within a more detailed instruction of Liam’s news. Though the dispatch, penned in Kreznik’s hand and bearing his signature, seemed to indicate this was Andronika’s wishes.

@Badarby @InfamousGuy101 @Dyelli Beybi

@Terrans



Andronika gave a dry laugh, leaning back against the wall, "I thought you were listening... yes I do approve of the runner. Saves me having to ask."

She paused, her smile softening for a moment, "No... no marriage offers. The elgafolk can't produce children with me, so I'm of no interest as the mother of a future heir... on top of which, the Emperor sullying himself with a human, perish the thought!" she paused again, seemingly choosing her words carefully, "In choosing to take on this life, I still want to retain a bit of the freedom I had on the road... which is a long way of saying, 'I'll marry whomever I like' and the consequences be damned. And of course, if I marry someone who doesn't mind assuming the name 'Hasikos' then that will probably make the peasants happy."

"Ultimately, supporting me is in the best interest of all the Kings and Nobles in my sphere," she declared, "They're getting enough already without me needing to promise to go to bed with some inexperienced Princeling!"

---

The Black Army had camped outside the town of Katalani. Stories of the Red Army's proximity had reached the town already and the burghers (particularly those elgafolk amongst them) were actually grateful for the appearance of the 16,000 strong Black Army, seeing them as an answer to prayer and their deliverance from the ravages of the Reds. Coralie was more than happy to enjoy their hospitality and spent a very pleasant evening with the Mayor and his family, before retiring to a nice soft, goose-feather bed.

She woke in the morning to the promise of more violence... but at least she had slept well.

With the dawn, Coralie made ready, donning her armour before riding out to meet the troops, who were already forming into a long line across the fields north of town. Assinger had taken up position towards the centre of the line which afforded him a good view of the largely flat battlefield, "Good morning!" he called, waving to Coralie as she approached on her own horse.

"Good morning Momin, did you sleep well?" she asked.

"I did," he nodded, "Did you?"

"Very!" Coralie looked out across the field, in the distance she could see red banners and what looked like some rather large guns, "I think the bed here was better than the one at our headquarters. I haven't slept this well in months... so, what do we have before us?"

"I think they slightly outnumber us," Momin remarked, "Where we are at the moment our centre reserves are hidden behind that patch of woodland over there," he motioned directly in front at them at a long strip of dark trees, "But, if you look beyond, you can see a walled farmhouse. We can send a battaglia to occupy that. They'd be a nightmare to dig out... there's another to the East, at the far end of the line."

Coralie pursed her lips, "Don't think they'll negotiate?" Almost on queue, there were signs of movement in the distance as the Red line began to advance, followed by a ripple of smoke puffs from the guns, followed a moment later by the distant roar of the cannons. Coralie's horse whinnied, tossing its head in alarm. "Forget I asked," she commented dryly.

"They have us outranged," Assinger remarked. On the far West of the line the enemy Cavalry advanced ahead of the infantry, eager it seemed, to clash with Coralie's own small mounted contingent.

Coralie paused for a long moment, "Any sign of Viryarus yet?" Assinger shook his head, "Okay... send the troops to occupy the farms. If it slows my cousin down then it gives him a better chance to join us. Also send word to Colonel Zeller's Cavalry to advance. Send him orders that it is a priority to destroy Ariana's cavalry as quickly as he can - I want him to be able to threaten those guns."

The 'command tent' was more of a haphazardly placed lean-to propped on wooden poles faintly lit by torches. Men, and a few women, gathered around the stump upon which rough-hewn planks salvaged from somewhere had been laid into a table. They were motley collection of peoples. Some draped in the worn and ragged vestments of what went for a red uniform, others wore no uniform, some little more than rags and carried no weapons to speak of. Even so they all listened the breathless youth that had spent two days on foot, moving under cover of darkness to reach them with news from the slaves and serfs aligned with their cause.

When he was done the boy was dismissed, escorted away for a cold bucket of water and a meal.

Skotinodasos sorely missed Krasimir's counsel here, obliged to leave him with the bulk of their 'force' in Suen. At least the old man would have a few weeks to actually train some of the mass of mouths they'd collected there while the mass of former mining slaves and quarry workers and former field slaves taught the holdouts in the citadel what free men were capable of.

"The boy reports no contact with our brothers and sisters in the estates and villages to the southeast since four days ago." Captain Elgaphagos noted stroking the stubble that clung to his chin. "The Black cavalry sticks close to their camp."

Skotinodasos scowled, his expression darkening.

"Dhis changes tings, does eet not?" One of the others leaned forward, looking over the locations. "Eet is one 'ting to cut dhe trees, and prepare dhe way, when saying dhat Free Men have no quarrels with dhe Blacks. Iss eet not anodder to turn our backs wit dhe masters near."

"Dhere are no 'masters' here. Only dhe Invaders dhat we drive out." Skotinodasos growled, irritably.

"I do not favour our leaders' plan, brothers and sisters." Elgaphagos shook his head. "Even if the Imperial cavarlry is two days ride away: the Blacks are professionals..."

"Dhey said dhe same before Rodelkog Brotter. And we won! Now we have dhe guns!"

"We won because everyone knew it was death or victory. The Blacks will not kill the Free Men, no will they pursue aggressively. They dare not leave their ships or turn their backs on the Imperials. They're organized, but slow and cautious: they have no friends in this land. Most of them cannot even speak the language. Facing them on open ground like this? It plays to all of our weaknesses and all of their strengths. I advise we stay the course. This was never the Free Men's fight."

All faces turned to Skotinodasos who took a long deep breath. "Send a runner to dhe captain of dhe artillery. Tell dhem, dhey are walking into a trap. Dhat our partisans confirm, dhe imperials are waiting."

"We don't know dhat..."

"Tell dhem anyway!" Skotinodasos roared. "Dhey are Free Men, let dhem decide dheir own fate and may dhe old gods of vengeance see dhem through. We came here wit a plan, and we follow eet, yeah? Elgaphagos, eet iss your plan..."

"I'll be leading our combat team on foot. Skotinodasos will command what horses we have as a reserve. We'll take blocking positions along the road to Suen, concealing ourselves in the tree line well back from the fighting."

"Dhat iss, several miles from dhe rear of our army." Someone observed.

"They'll have to make it at least that far if they want any support. I brought two hundred former Owned Men and people we've trained ourselves who can stand and fight. I need every one of them if we're going to pull off this rearguard action. I got no one to spare. We fight from treelines. We fight behind walls. We fight from ditches, buildings. Or the prepared positions the rest of you and your work teams will finish preparing."

They spent much of the next two hours confirming each of the work detail leaders knew their assignments. Which positions they'd be preparing first - there were fighting positions overlooking the road to be dug and staked out, trench lines to cover. The team with the powder was notified where they'd be setting up to bring down trees to block the road if necessary. Everyone needed to know where they'd be pulling back to, and where the safe houses and villages were along the route if they had to disperse.

The sun was getting ready to rise when the final groups finally started to disperse to their assignments and Skotinodasos mounted up with his fifty or so men - and their spare horses - behind the two hundred or so Elgaphaos would be commanding in his foot company of mostly musketeers.

Elgaphagos and his men took position in a dispersed line along the dense treeline while the light was still poor. Skotinodasos and his riders dismounted and took up their positions a short distance behind them, sending their mounts and spares in a gully a short distance for a quick withdrawal to the next fighting position along a path they'd cleared through the night.

Skotinodasos slipped forward to join Elgaphagos observing the distant preparations as one among their number road past them, along the road, bearing a Red Banner and making for red position where groups were beginning to get themselves into fighting array. Skotinodasos watched the man trailing dust down the road. "I send anotter runner to dhe Lady Hasikos." Skotinodasos declared as the sun began peaking above the horizon. "He tell her dhey walking into a trap. Dhat our partisans see dhe Imperials are waiting. Maybe eet will save some."

"I suppose deception is necessary in war. I just prefer not to lie to my friends." Elgaphagos said simply. "Or do we consider them friends, sir?"

"We wish dhat tings could be different." When Elgaphagos looked at the balding, older man next to him, he imagined he saw the Mad Priest looking - for the first time in Elgaphagos' recollection - like the man was actually conflicted about something. Then it disappeared and he laughed, looked Elgaphagos in the eye and patted him on the shoulder. "But if you can fool your friends... you can fool your enemies, yeah?"

"If you say so sir." Elgaphagos said.

"Brotter Elgaphagos, do not doubt our cause. We were born for dhis! We fight for dhis wit everyting dhat we are. Do we fight for dhe colour red or dhe colour black? No. We fight for freedom, my brotter. Dhe People are our Cause! Dhe people who for two hundred years, dhey cried out for a justice dhat would not come while dhese nobles, dhey hear and do no ting! But we, my brotter, we are our own justice - look!" He pointed into the distance at the assembling army. "Dhey could, right now, join to'getter and crush dhe Imperials! Our victory iss at hand, and dhey... dhey squander eet! Dhey squader eet on dheir little games. Dhey do not care dhat dhe people suffer and dhe people die, dhey only care dhey get dhe power! Dhis iss dhe way of dhe world you see. We never gonna be free, unless we free ourselves!"

"Then why send another runner to warn them?"

To this, Skotinodasos seemed to deflate, his grandstanding fading away. "Sometimes, Brotter Elgaphagos. We wish for a better world dhan dhe one we live in." He scoffed, seemingly at himself then waived his hand dismissively that the conversation was over and turned down the line, offering his blessings to the men ahead of whatever fate was waiting for them at the end of the day.

@Dyelli Beybi

A slight snort of amusement.
"Claiming a throne after climbing a mound of corpses just to burn it down for love." The spymaster wore a rare teasing grin. "I'm sure I read about some theatre like that."

Kreznik gave a roll of his shoulders; the uncomfortable shrug of someone readjusting weight. He wore the darkened cloth and leather of his now liquidated order. A calvary uniform having been an unsuitable garment for scaling walls and ledges. Kreznik could recall wearing the uniform had once felt so natural; like a second skin festooned with pouches and sheathes for the tools of his trade. Now it felt unnatural; an artifact of a life that felt like a dream with each passing day.

An occurrence thanks in no part to the woman before him. He shook off the discomfort and odd thoughts and refocused.

"Do you have any more need for your spymaster this evening?" A joking manner in his tone but the words were deadly serious. Though he couldn't fathom what she would need; it never hurt to ask. Especially, if she was up to a scheme.

Or if she wanted to continue her usual nightly "pursuits". Though Kreznik could hardly complain of those.

@Terrans



"I never asked for the mountain of corpses... or the throne for that matter," Andronika pouted, crossing her arms in imitation of a sulking child, "I never wanted to be responsible! Or to lead anyone! That's not fun." She paused, glancing sideways at Kreznik with a familiar amused expression, "So why shouldn't I take a bit of what I want, along with doing the stuff that other people want me to do?"

She gave a dry laugh at the second question, "A job for the Spymaster right now? Probably not. We can scheme against, and backstab, our Imperial allies at some later date... for now though, do you play cards Kreznik? I've been leaning some gambling games that a lady really shouldn't be playing. Unfortunately, I don't have any coins to play with, but I'm sure we can figure something out," she said, with a playfully flirtatious smirk that suggested she was thinking of something that would make most people in her court blush...

---

Coralie snapped her spyglass shut. To the West of the line the Cavalry had exchanged fire for a time. Dragoons on both sides had exchanged volleys before the heavier horse had formed up, culminating a few moments ago by a charge from Zeller into the Red horse, a ripple of pistol fire, then a clash of horse and steel. Zeller's mercenary cavalry were some of the finest in the East but had a habit of becoming a bit rash, getting drawn out of position or pursuing the enemy for far longer than they ought. She prayed they could maintain discipline today.

She trotted her horse forward, keeping pace with the lines of Iktani musketeers who formed her personal guard, and whom she had ordered to keep in close proximity to the forces moving forward to occupy the farm, able to support and repel any flanking manouvres the Reds might try to emply. The roar of the Blacks smaller cannon sounded from behind her, balls tracing lines across the sky towards the advancing mass of Red troops.

Her troops had spent weeks preparing and drilling for the next battle, but there was always danger and she had no idea how well the Reds were trained. They were, by all account quite fanatical...

There was a ripple of gunfire from the farmyard ahead, thick smoke drifting upwards into the cloudless sky, "Well," she declared, to nobody in particular, "Time to find out how good our drill instructors are."

@Dyelli Beybi

"Because if we did what we want the world would top further into chaos." He left it unspoken that his wants and wishes would most definitely had left a good portion of the continent in further chaos. Potentially, for the better, in his opinion. Though, he was sure that the amount of slit throats would unsettle his allies further then they already disliked him.

" ...do you play cards Kreznik?"

A tilt of his head, looking past her head as if recalling some games.

"I picked up few in the camp. Though I don't have any coins to...." He took in what was becoming a now familiar expression on the heir's face. One that he, to his horror, was beginning to look forward the usual sequence of events that followed. The usual chaotic blur of emotions, activity and suppressed bad ideas that Kreznik associated with Andronika.

An audible sigh as he glanced at the pair of doors and double checked that they were properly secured and locked.

"I assume you have an initial game in mind?" His tone resigned even as he felt the slight thrill of his pulse as he took a seat a few feet from the heir.

The ensuring events were fairly predictable for the pair. But to their nature they were discreet about it. At least to those out of immediate earshot...

Ebengrenzstadt

It was with little fanfare that the Hound made his way into the White’s headquarters. His horse exhausted and the the rider little better off. Liam Calvary uniform bore the hard miles of his sprint as he made his way past the gauntlet of guards, aides and officers that had seemingly increased in his absence. No doubt a consequence of the three thousand extra men that had arrived.

The Hound clutched the dispatch as he surmounted the final pair of guards for the war room.

Loan, Alberic and Vassos discussing something of the army that had sprung in Andronika’s absence.

“Sirs.” He started. To the uninformed; his calvary uniform and markings were that of the regular army. To those of the inner circle; he was clearly a Hound. Which meant his word could only have come from a few people as the majority of the inner circle was within walking distance. “Spymaster Broeke sends word. We have an alliance with the imperials in the west. The army is to march for Elvesland. We will meet the Lady and the western imperials on the road.

He passed over the dispatch. The simple seal of a dogs head on the parchment. The words within a more detailed instruction of Liam’s news. Though the dispatch, penned in Kreznik’s hand and bearing his signature, seemed to indicate this was Andronika’s wishes.

Ebengrenzstadt

The arrival of the Hound and the news of the alliance being formed with the western Imperials was of good timing with Loan.

"Excellent," he said. "I'd say we should begin our trek west then to link up with the western forces." The Prince, however, was skeptical.

"Are we certain that this isn't a trap by the western Korrigan prince?" the Prince asked. Loan shook his head.

"This is Kreznik's handwriting and he is one of the Princess's closest associates," the knight replied. It is strange that he is batting for the boy who tried to kill the Princess months before but she trusts him enough to have him follow her and that would have to do for now. "Besides, the western Emperor wouldn't try and besmirch his honor by laying a trap after inviting us, especially since he would need allies himself to fight against his brother’s forces, currently the largest threat to his own throne.

“Joining up with the Western Imperials would also allow you to see Lady Andronika, a potential bride to be,” he added. Prince Edwin considered for a moment, this was the whole reason why the King wanted him to lead the troops in his stead; the possibility of forging a marriage pact with the Hasikos is a sweet reward especially as the Hasikos family is seeing a good chance of their name restored. “Just showing some respect to Emperor Orrion as a chance to help Lady Andronika reclaim her birthright is a bargain, if you ask me.” The Prince nodded at the prospect, clearing showing some interest in seeing the Princess for the first time.

“You’re right,” he said. “As soon as the men finish their break, we should be ready for the journey westward.”

Through the lens of her spyglass, Coralie could see the pikes advancing around her troops at the farmyard, threatening to cut them off. There was no other batallia but her own, able to plug the gap and keep the route to and from the farmyard open... she snapped the glass shut, leaning down from her saddle to speak to the Iktani Major, "Give the order to bring us up along the road to protect the rear of our troops at the farmhouse."

He nodded and a few moments later the sound of drums and pipes signalled the advance. Coralie dismounted, tossing her reigns to an aide as she fell in with her guard.

She wasn't sure if it had been a cunning move on the part of her enemies, or pure bad luck, but as they advanced, the Red pike formation turned, angling back towards Coralie's musketeers. Her troops got a good volley off, ripping through the front rank, but other troopers stepped in to fill the place and the unit kept moving forward.

"Hold 4 feet from the ditch!" she called to her men, realising that hand-to-hand combat was inevitable and wanting to be sure that the pike formation would not simply push them off the battlefield. Ensuring the ground where they met was broken enough to mean the pikemen couldn't hold their rigid formation.

They reached the ditch, the first line hopping down, pikes discarded and swords drawn, "Fire at will!" Coralie called.

She drew her pistol, firing at a man scrambling up, out of the ditch. The ball struck the ground a few inches from his arm. Coralie cursed, tossing the pistol aside and drawing a second as the man rushed towards her. The second shot struck him in the middle of the chest and he tumbled forward, though by then more were surging over the wall.

Sporadic fire picked off a few of the assaulters but then they were upon the Iktani. Sword clashed with sword. Screams of the wounded and dying rent the air.

Another man came at Coralie, slashing down at her chest with a broadsword. She took the blow on her breastpiece, not bothering to try to block but instead lunging forward with her own sword. The Red soldier's sword glanced off her chest, but her own thrust struck true and he staggered back, bleeding from a deep stab to the chest. The exchange of blows knocked the air out of her and she staggered back a pace, though there was no time to worry about that as a fresh wave clambered up over the ditch.

The fighting seemed to go on forever. The man on her right was cut down. She held the line until her arm ached and she felt barely strong enough to stand up. There was a brief lull as the enemy regrouped. Someone tugged at her sleeve, urging her to cycle back, and she did, falling back a few paces, taking a few moments to catch her breath.

On all sides, canon and musket roared, filling the battlefield with hazy acrid smoke. At one point a rider appeared next to her, "General Assinger requests that you join him!" the rider called.

Coralie shook her head, "I am with my guard." She called up to him. Perhaps it was pig-headed of her, but she was a Captain first and foremost. It felt... wrong to sit at the back.

"General Assinger suggests that the enemy know that as well, which is why they are so determined," the rider called back.

But Coralie was not to be deterred. She shook her head again, "I'll fall back with the guard, when the opportunity arises."

It didn't for some time. Coralie reloaded one pistol, the other had been lost in the fighting, and rotated back into the line, although people tried to stop her. She shot a big Inburian with a beard, injured another with a deep gash to his forearm. The enemy regrouped, charged again, but her Guard stood firm and after what seemed an eternity, she saw the enemy resolve wavering. They seemed unwilling to cross the ditch. A few looked around. A few began to run, then the whole body did.

Coralie was too exhausted to do anything but sit down on the edge of the ditch, surrounded by the dead, dying and wounded. She could see many of the blue coats of her guards amongst the dead, though they had given a good account of themselves. A very good account.

As the smoke cleared the clip-clop of approaching horses caused Coralie to turn around. Assinger was there with his runners and her horse, led by the reigns, "Your Majesty," he greeted, lifting his hat formally before adding in a dry tone, "You'll need to stop doing this. You're going to get yourself killed."

"I can hold my own," Coralie replied, tired.

"I have no doubt of that, but in the chaos of battle, all it takes is one stray bullet," Assinger pointed out, he dropped out of his saddle, moving to sit next to Coralie. Around them the smoke was clearing from the battlefield. Her lines had held firm. "Viryarus has been sighted. The Reds are fleeing, but they won't get far - his cavalry will cut them to ribbons. Also, Colonel Zeller reported that his Cavalry drove the red Cavalry off the field and fell upon their baggage train. We took a significant prisoner."

Coralie turned, a smile breaking, "No... don't tell me..."

Assinger nodded, "We got her. For all intents and purposes your rule South of Inbur is unchallenged."

"Alive?" Coralie queried. A nod from Assinger, "Oh good... make sure she's treated well. She'll come in handy if we need to face the sister."

Katalani was a decisive battle. The Red Army of just under 19,000 had been crushed, with 2,238 counted dead on the field, and a further 7,706 captured, according to Coralie's records. Others were ridden down by the Imperials in the pursuit, though Coralie's troops kept no record of the numbers. There were still enough Red soldiers to reform, but in the chaos, Coralie's cavalry had captured Ariana as they ransacked her camp though her senior leaders were otherwise unaccounted for. On her own side, Coralie had lost a mere 675 soldiers. Coralie was now the undisputed ruler South of Inbur itself.

There was going to be a battle. It was a certainty at this point. Andronika's white Army, with all the support they had so far, numbered no more than 4,000 troops, a tiny number next to the 32,000 that Orrian had at his command. Orrian's troops were some of the finest elgafolk and men she had seen. Skyborn Lancers made up the core of his force, supported by squadrons of Sahalky riders, many of whom were still armed with primitive bows. He had some Owned Men in his army, though most of his foot were less Pobryn regiments from the mountains in the North and far West of the Empire.

Voron's Army, which Scouts had told was nearby numbered close to 50,000, nearly entirely Owned Men with few elgafolk amongst them save for the officers. Most of his troops were on foot with steady Harquebussiers on the wings.

Vassos told her that Voron's foot were stronger but there was no Cavalry in the world that was the equal the Lancers.

The door to her tent stirred and she looked up from her brooding in her armchair, hoping to find Kreznik there, but istead it was the blonde, mustachioed elgamann chieftain who seemed to be the one who did the machinating for Orrian - Arel Elmys, "Your Highness, he greeted her politely, no sleep before the big day?"

She stood, offering a respectful curtsey, motioning for Arel to join her in the other chair, though he waved the gesture down, apparently not planning to stay long, "Unlikely. We are somewhat outnumbered from what my scouts tell me."

He gave a nonchalant shrug, "We were at Lysfelt as well, and we still drove Voron off the field. He had four men for every three of ours then. He has four men for every three of ours today. We will prevail. And what is more he has every soldier he can muster here, to oppose us. If we destroy this army like we did his last one, Voron will be dealt a mighty blow."

The comment, along with the elgamann's calm demeanor gave her a moderate degree of confidence... "Though the same could be said for both the Emperor and me," Andronika pointed out.

"What do you call that card came the Mittelvolk play - Pochspiel?" Arel asked, "Well, if we were playing that, I would say that we are all 'all in'." He paused momentarily before adding, "Our long-term strategy is reliant on you rallying the Mittelvolk to our cause. The Lancers are the finest soldiers to ever live, but they are not easily replaced and if this war drags on we will have fewer and fewer of them to field. That is provided we win of course."

"My men will stand," Andronika assured him, hoping that they would. Vassos seemed to think they were decent-enough soldiers, if unblooded for the most part.

"I pray they will... now, try to get some sleep," Arel said, "Fretting over the outcome will change nothing. We have been dealt our cards, so has Voron, and we must play the hand we have... but you can control if you are well rested tomorrow or tired... Your Highness." He offered a polite bow before leaving the tent again.

Andronika folded her arms behind her back, pacing back and forth in the tent. If they could destroy Voron's army it would mean the release of countless slaves and Andronika becoming much more powerful in her own right... though a lot of people would have to die for that. Freedom, it seemed, required blood.