“When getting rid of enemies, either remove them to their very roots, so that no future trouble might emerge ever again, or do not bother at all.” - Ancient saying, unknown source.

Fatimah ibn Haimool, formally known to her comrades in the Free Lances as the former commander of the Nightstalker Company, was perched atop a tall tree at the side of the main road, some distance east from where the fighting took place. She and around half her platoon – what her former company had been reclassified into after they joined the Free Lances – were waiting in ambush, and the prey would soon come to them, should all go well with the plans.

Of course, other than her own people, nobody in the Free Lances were aware of their true origins, something they had kept a secret since they arrived in the northern continent of Alcidea.

Back in the southern continent of Ur-Teros, they were known as the Order of Niśācāra, or in their language, “Those who Walks the Night”. Their Order was an ancient order of warriors who typically served the role of hired assassins for the various lords in the northern central region of Ur-Teros, their history dating back a thousand years.

Two decades ago, when Fatimah herself was still a teenage girl in training according to the tenets of their order, disaster had struck, as one Sultan had taken offense to the slaying of his father, the previous Sultan, by the Order’s hands when the man reneged on a deal they had agreed upon. The foolish Sultan waged war upon the Order, a bloody war that took place mostly in the shadows over the next year.

The war ended with grievous results, the new Sultan – and his whole direct kin for that matter – slain by the Order’s hands, but the Order itself reduced to barely a fifth of its original numbers. Naturally, other powers in the nearby region pounced as well, some swallowing up the late Sultan’s territory, while others turning their sights to the Order, eager to get rid of them once and for all to prevent a repeat of the scenario happening to themselves.

Fatimah’s father, the head of the Order at the time, realized that it was a disaster that they were unlikely to survive, and had sent her away along with sixty trusted and devout members of the order to escape, to the northern continent of Alcidea. There they made their living as hired blades, losing some of their members until Fatimah made the decision to affiliate herself with the Free Lances.

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It was probably the decision that saved them, the last remnants of the Order of Niśācāra, from complete extinction.

Over the past two decades the remaining fifty of them had settled down amongst the Free Lances. They found spouses, had children whom they passed down their skills on to, to continue their legacy. Some of the oldest of those children were even amongst their numbers, these days, a thing that brought pride and hope to the platoon as a whole.

Fatimah herself had taken her Artesh Hassan, the trusted senior retainer who had been guarding her since she was a toddler, as her man, and had three children by him. Their children were younger, though, with the eldest and second being part of the Captain’s younger daughter’s clique.

They were waiting in ambush as part of the plan that the Captain had sent to them the previous night, one that called for most of the deployed platoons – Nicole’s platoon and half of Fatimah’s were providing cover fire while Elfriede and Erycea led their platoons for an assault – to assault the enemy leader in his base camp. They expected said leader to attempt to escape, however, hence why Fatimah herself led the other half of her platoon to lay in wait for them to do just that.

Their patience was rewarded before too long, as the noise of the ongoing battle in the distance one that told them that the assault had begun. It was not ten minutes after that when one of Fatimah’s men noticed that some riders were headed in their direction. Fatimah pulled out a spyglass and raised it to her eye to check the situation, and sure enough, she saw their quarry in the distance.

A rather chubby middle-aged man in richly decorated armor was likely their main target, the noble that led the enemy forces. He was surrounded by ten knights in heavy armor, who were riding hard in an attempt to keep pace with their liege, who whipped his horse as he ran away frantically. None of them seemed aware of the assassins awaiting them on the road ahead.

Normally, dealing with knights in full plate armor like what their targets were wearing would be difficult for an assassin. Fatimah and her crew had plenty of experience of dealing with armored targets since they associated themselves with the Free Lances, though, and knew what they were doing. They waited until the riders were almost upon them before they sprung the ambush.

Just as the riders reached where the Nightstalkers were hidden, multiple weighted nets – like fishing nets but made of much sturdier material – fell from the trees above. The surprised riders failed to react in time, and barring one knight whose steed was lagging behind, they were wrapped up by the nets and crashed to the ground, violently in most cases.

The last knight was dumbfounded as he saw his liege and the rest of his compatriots crash with their horses, entangled by the nets, but before he could react, figures in dark clothing leapt down from the trees, carrying heavy maces in their hands. They used the momentum of their fall to add more power to their blow, and the poor knight found himself suffering from a rain of heavy blows.

Once the knight fell off his horse, his armor dented and crumpled in many places and the man within crushed by the heavy blows, other assassins leapt down and walked closer to their entangled targets. The fish was already caught in the net, so now it was only a matter of reeling the net in.