It was nearly twenty days before a messenger from Arven arrived at the Ferron’s new camp. News of victory to the east and an encirclement of Etrineux spread throughout the camp as Ferron made the orders to pack up and march out.
The warriors, bored of sitting in the damp hillsides of the tiny village, with only a handful of wooded skirmishes to satisfy their appetites for violence, were more than ready to continue the fighting that had been postponed. With the memories of the ease of the previous battle, the warriors marched forth from the camp with the optimism of another fruitful fight. They loudly boasted to each other over who would slay the most and, therefore, was entitled to more of the reward.
The messenger was received somewhat sourly by Ferron. He had never received word from Etrineux’s strategist. He paced about the camp and pined for correspondence from this unknown individual like a jilted lover.
Elane’s scouting produced scarce leads. Approaching Etrineux after the ambush was now out of the question, for the safety of the scouts. Instead, Elane began by visiting villages that were already retreated from by the Marche forces. Rumors of an outsider riding into town or an unknown member of the Marche clan pulling the strings yielded little in the way of true evidence.
The best that Elane could procure was information about a lesser known path that led deeper into the vast forests a handful of miles north of Etrineux. From atop a cliffside, one could view all of Etrineux and spot the distant fires of other villages and war camps. While not ideal, it would have to do to increase, however marginal, the likelihood of discovering Etrineux's strategist.
Ferron interrogated the Marche warriors and Merciless Cur mercenaries that recovered to see if they had any information that he could use. The Marche warriors, unsurprisingly, refused to cooperate and instead opted for execution. Ferron performed these executions himself, claiming that since it was his decision, he should be the one to follow through on the act.
Valentin watched the blood pool the earth as Ferron coldly took the axe to the necks of the Marche warriors. As there would be no prisoner negotiations, there was little need to allow them to drain the supplies meaninglessly. A question stood between life and death. They would rather not live to see the next morning than to sell out their defeated commander. Not even the deaths of the ones before them intimidated the remaining Marche captives into becoming turncoats.
The warriors of the Merciless Curs provided the most concrete information for Ferron to use. Despite their willingness to cooperate, they were simply unaware of the identity. They knew that several days before Ferron’s forces arrived to make camp, a handsomely dressed person arrived on horseback to discuss plans with Tiarna Marche, Jean Barteau, and the deggans. The only deggan that Ferron had managed to capture, he had Valentin decapitate. They remember their leader being highly frustrated after the meeting and openly refuse to cooperate with a craven plan schemed up by a smooth-handed noble woman.
As they rode through the forest towards Etrineux, Valentin could still see Ferron deep within thought. The man planned the most surefire way to gain an audience with this mysterious commander, whoever that turned out to be. It hadn’t been since Valentin’s first meeting with Ferron had he seen the man so solely obsessive with recruiting somebody. It was clear that the skills showcased so far had the man convinced that they could help turn his fortunes in his upcoming war.
Valentin absentmindedly touched his shoulder. The boy had now fully recovered and his armor had been mended enough to be usable. An ugly deformation was still clearly visible around the clasp for his cloak, however, it did not cause him any discomfort.
The column crushed through the underbrush of the forest. The traps set up by the defenders were disarmed and removed over the recent days. There would be no further delays or impediments to their march.
Drums marched out the rhythm of the boots that ate the distance between them and the town that awaited them. The forest did not try to stop them, the spirits within already resigned to watch the mortal flesh butcher itself. The silence of the morning served to further deliver that point. The once ferocious howling of the wind spirits no longer screamed through the trees. Instead, wildflowers sprouted and bloomed in the gaps of Ortus’ light amidst the shade of the treetops.
Tents were erected in a ring around the wood-walled town. The camp was tucked within the trees to dissuade from javelin strikes from the defenders. The warriors of Arven sat around fires and idled away. A handful of battering rams carved from the trunks of fallen trees sat on stands behind the tents.
An oversized tent rested across from the gates of the town. Ferron, Valentin, and the other deggan made their way to the tent while the remaining warriors began establishing camp in whatever good patches of land not yet occupied.
The guards in front of the large tent allowed Ferron and his entourage to pass through the entrance. Inside, Tiarna Celfor was in the midst of a conversation with his Marshal and some finely dressed people that Valentin had not been introduced to. They sat upon cushions of vibrant colors and golden stitching and drank light red wine from their cups.
To the side of the meeting, a handful of middle aged women entertained boys around Valentin’s age. They turned from their toys and games with great interest to the entering warriors.
Valentin’s eyes tracked to the carved wooden warriors and horses of the game they were playing and his mind went back to the carving he received from Grégoire. He wondered where he had placed it and if he would ever see it again.
“Ah, Ferron. You have arrived at an opportune time. We were just discussing our plan of attack to force Etrineux to capitulate.” Celfor gestured at Ferron to the rest of the group. “This is Ferron Martelle, the adept mercenary that allowed me to slay the former Tiarna Marche.”
“The King of Corvids in the flesh,” one of the guests spoke at the large man. “I almost didn’t believe it when Tiarna Celfor sent word that he had employed your services.”
From Valentin’s perspective, Ferron did not seem overly impressed with the title bestowed upon him. However, his benefactor sported an amicable smile to the nobles arranged before him. He took a cup and imbibed on the contents.
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“I have not had the pleasure of meeting many of you,” Ferron responded warmly. “Are you all vassals of Arven?”
The question brought a brief, yet pointed silence among the nobility. Some turned to their cups instead.
A different guest took over the conversation instead. She occupied the cushion closest to Tiarna Celfor. She wore clothes of a rich green. Her posture exuded control and her chin was tilted towards the sky. The motion in her arms had a weightlessness and grace to them that felt in some ways unattainable to one unfamiliar with such stature.
“We are allies of Tiarna Celfor’s that are very much invested in the result of this campaign,” the woman spoke in a refined cadence that made each syllable feel like it carried vital importance.
“Estelle Forstier is the leader of this coalition of Etrineux village leaders that desire a changing of the guard for this region,” Tiarna Celfor explained. “I am confident that their knowledge and support will be the final key needed to bring our efforts to an advantageous conclusion.”
Valentin noticed a map that focused entirely on Etrineux and the surrounding geography. Tiarna Celfor brought his pieces from home and arranged them in a circle around the town along with some markers at points in the environs outside the settlement.
Tiarna Celfor continued the introductions of the other nobles in the coalition. Valentin paid less attention than he should have. Would he ever see these people again after they marched away from Etrineux? Was there value in remembering?
Their patron motioned towards one of the mother and child pairs that sat to the side. “This is my Ciele, Rosalie, and my eldest, Ferris. I brought him along now that things have calmed down a bit to show him a little about combat. He’s getting to that age where a boy must know these things.”
“There is no better time in a warrior’s life,” Ferron agreed gruffly, his eyes settled elsewhere.
“Perhaps your young ward would like to spend some time with children his age,” Tiarna Celfor suggested. “It may do him some good to develop into a more genteel young man. I know by the boorish reputation of the Guerros clan that it may be needed. Besides, it will be of benefit to these children to have a peer that has already proven capable on the battlefield.”
“Enlighten me of your efforts these past days, Tiarna,” Ferron requested, his mind not either registering or ignoring the invitation. “We lost contact with you for quite some time and I worried that something unfortunate had befell your forces.”
Something within Ferron’s request seemed to irk Marshal Valun. The woman’s face formed a slight scowl from her cushion. Tiarna Celfor also seemed to be dissatisfied with the question. He absentmindedly fiddled with the pieces on his board.
He tapped the southern forests where the central group invaded. “The southern flank was especially costly for me. Over half of the forces mustered there are dead, captured, or wounded with little chance of being ready to fight any time soon. It seemed that the Marche forces were well trained and well prepared for invasion into those lands. We were met with constant night ambushes, sabotages, and traps. Many died needlessly in these cowardly skirmishes by the time I had finally regained control of the situation. All was not lost, though, we have credible reports that Harald Marche was wounded in the decisive battle that broke our forces.”
Tiarna Celfor dragged his finger across the map towards a collection of villages to the east of Etrineux. “The enemy forced us to retreat to the east to reconnect with the force Marshal Valun was leading. With the help of our friends in the coalition, we were able to turn the tides against the defenders and finally encircle the town. These new forces have more than made up for my losses in the southern front and even have grown larger than our initial combined forces. As an added victory, Marche’s second son died in the fighting.”
“What further contributions do you require from me?” Ferron asked Tiarna Celfor through smiling teeth. “It seems that you procured the assistance from those with more intimate knowledge of the area and resources to support themselves.”
“There is no reason to be so hasty, Ferron,” Tiarna Celfor said. “Your expertise is crucial if we wish to take the settlement without unnecessary losses. We have no interest in diminishing our manpower further if the price for your continued service is fair.”
“I have one question to ask before I present an offer. Is it the intention of this alliance to preserve Etrineux or to raze it?”
“We intend to take the town for ourselves,” Estelle Forstier answered. “While we have our disagreements with the ruling clan, the town itself is important to all of us. Relatives of our warriors reside within its walls and the leading temple of the region resides within it.”
“In that case, what do you say to another five thousand silver?” Ferron asked with a cordial grin. “Except, I doubt there will be much looting to be permitted within the town. So what if we are allowed to take fifty citizens?”
The nobles widened their eyes and raised their eyebrows at Ferron’s proposal. A different member of the alliance spoke up. “You intend to take a portion of the population as servants?”
“Is it really so strange to you all?” Ferron asked with a bit of surprise of his own. “Typically, we would raze the town and split the population among the invading warlords by contribution. It’s been made clear to me that you do not wish to use all your funds on my services. Therefore, I must ask for something additional to make this worth my time. I’m not asking for a proportion even remotely close to my expected contribution.”
“Forgive us, Ferron. We understand that from your perspective and past, your request is perfectly fair. However, I’d like to reiterate that fellow clansmen and esteemed druids reside within the walls. Our transition in power would not be well received if we sold off a portion of our citizenry to mercenaries. We wish to manage this with civility,” Forstier responded diplomatically.
“Then what is your offer?”
“Allow us some time to confer it,” Tiarna Celfor requested. “We will be certain to reconvene tomorrow to discuss it further.”
Ferron offered Celfor a small bow of understanding, “I await your summons. But, please remember that staying here without pay will increase my asking price.”
The leaders of the Armée quickly shuffled out of the tent. It only took a few steps from the meeting place for Ferron’s face to revert to an even appearance. His deggan also sported a similarly disappointed look to their leader.
“They intend to underpay us in exchange for the promise of a future alliance,” Hrost stated in no uncertain terms once they left earshot of the tent.
“It would be convenient for them if we were destroyed leading the charge into the town,” Ferron answered.
“You think they would do something so underhanded, father?” Durant asked. “Word would spread to the other mercenary leaders if such a suspicious fate would befall us.”
“Durant, you possess too much faith in a group of people that have so easily betrayed their tiarna and fellow nobles,” Ferron admonished. “This invasion would have long since failed if that coalition felt any sense of loyalty to their long time liege. We will be betrayed if they see that it is more beneficial to do so.”
“Shall we leave with the payment that we are already owed?” Arthus asked, offering a look of derision towards the tent.
“That would be such a waste,” Hubert countered. “These Strettian nobles are so miserly with their money. The Hetecians would have paid us in gold to raze a Xanbo border town and then bought the captives from us. Yet here we are, pulling teeth for all these unreasonable demands and meager pay.”
“We will play their game for now,” Ferron assured. “We will need Tiarna Celfor’s cooperation if we want to be appropriately fed for our rebellion. If necessary, I will take care of this siege myself.”
Ferron stopped walking and turned to face his deggan. “I will be ready in ten days. You have one job, discover the strategist and find out how to capture them without Tiarna Celfor knowing. A reasonable bonus goes to the one that succeeds. Do not fail me.”