"Well first, we'll need to get rid of that Obba," I told Treden as soon as she'd asked. "We'll need to set up a base, preferably with your help. We need the rest of my guys back, we're split into three groups over here. Do you have my shit?"

"Your... shit?" Asked Treden, hunching backwards slowly with her eyes set in an inquisitive glare. She glanced back a few times and backed up a bit. Ah, not that kind of shit.

"Er, my gear. My equipment? The things I was wearing?" I made a few gestures around my chest and stomach and a few rings around my right leg in an attempt to communicate the appearance of my vest and holster. "My helmet, as well?"

Treden stopped backing up and tilted her head a little, letting out a little hum of agreement. "Ah, we stored all of your items in here. Pull gently." She gestured to a panel on the wooden floor which seemed a bit looser than the rest.

I made my way over and pulled on it, and it gave way with the whispering cackle of breaking wood. I'd pulled a few bolts off, and little bits of wood hung from the now-departed bolts. Treden didn't seem too happy about that, but I kept at it.

Before me was an organized pile of sour-smelling, sweat-drenched tactical assortments. The drop holsters still had their weapons fastened into them, and it didn't seem like anything was touched or even disturbed. In fact, they'd taken quite a lot of care in removing the stuff. I took a few moments to search for the name tapes on my vest and helmet and grabbed both. I then picked out the first holster and rifle I could find and donned the whole set.

Fixing the seams and tightening the straps on my holster, I slung my rifle across my chest.

"That's what you wear in battle?" Asked Treden, questioning the modern military loadout. "What's that going to protect you from?" She followed with a sneer.

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"A few shots from this and a little bit of this," I gestured to my holster and flared my ass out to the side a little, then raised my rifle slightly. "Even then, you'd still be fucked up." She pursed her lips, presumably to speak, but I cut her off with a raised hand. She sighed, slinking back into her seat.

"Then we'll be training you in the use of our weapons, and you'll help us however you can -- whether in battle or by helping us develop countermeasures for magic."

She rested her head on her left hand and looked up at the ceiling, giving a mock impression of someone thinking about it. "Quite a big ask, the first request you made," she replied after a short pause. "We've sent a courier to inform Midfheld of your presence, and what information his majesty had on you as soon as he'd arrived, we can't just be rid of him unless we can intercept the message."

"Wherever he's going, is it far? If so, I'm pretty damn sure he'd make a layover stop somewhere, stay and rest for a few days, at least." If we could somehow intercept the courier, we could get rid of the cheeky fuck and cause same mayhem in a polity big enough to gather all the world's mages. Big boon for opsec and completing our objective, all in one stroke of genius.

"He's likely to stay at the next town over tomorrow, which is about two days away on a horse. It's on the edge of this woodland, why do you ask? He'll be gone by the time you get there, anyway," said the shorty, dismissively.

I paused for a while, and smiled.

"So you're saying we've got at least tomorrow to stop him?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying."

"Do you know where the rest of my guys are?"

"We've been watching them since we got his majesty back, with the intent to take them once our magi have recuperated. Why?"

Ignoring her query, I spoke. "Do you know where our vehicles are?" My question was met with confusion. "The green hunks of metal we tried to retreat towards?"

"Yes," she paused with an even greater amount of confusion. "It's nearby. Sorry, what's the point of all this?"

"We can stop your guy by daybreak. Let's go kill the cheeky fucker, shall we?"

Treden let out a slight smirk. She stood with her arms crossed and leaned on one foot, looking pretty smug with her small stature.

"At your command, milord."