The remainder of the march to Montihouse was subdued. The troops were rather in awe of the mercenaries, and more than a little ashamed at their own performance. Even Lieutenant Bickerstaple was uncharacteristically quiet, and deferentially polite to them when he did talk to them.

As they descended into the valley there were more signs of life. Livestock started to appear in pastures, and the fields were better tended. The farmhouses they saw were quite bustling with people. But they all stopped to watch as the troops marched past. Gwen and her wolf got a lot of attention, but nobody caused any trouble, seeing the troops.

Some of the crossroads had checkpoints at them, and Lieutenant Bickerstaple stopped to exchange news with a few of them. But as the day wore on, he cut the chit-chat as short as he could. The sun was quite low when the town of Montihouse came into view.

What also came into view was the makeshift huts and shelters around the town. “Now we know where all the people went to”, said Zipper. Delta nodded. There were a lot of people, but also a lot of troops. There was the same idle curiosity at their presence, especially for the wolf and goblin. Gwen was a lot more alert, now that it was getting dark, but she kept her hood well up.

The town didn’t have walls, but barricades had been set up and troops seemed on duty and enforced some sort of guidelines about who got in or out of the town. There was a bit of a hold up, just from congestion, when they got there.

There were those who had to leave the town by sunset, and those who were refused permission to enter and were loudly bitter about it. But there were also beggars, supplicating people for sustenance. Zipper nudged Delta at one point and nodded towards Gwen. The segment closest to the gate appeared to tacitly be reserved for veteran beggars. These were troops, still in some sort of uniform, who had lost limbs with cups out and imploring looks in their eyes. Gwen stared long and hard at them, and then belatedly noticing the other two watching her. Delta reached out and patted her, reassuringly. “You’re one of us, not them.”

Zipper pointed to the three of them, “Wight’s Brigade.”

When they got to the checkpoint, the Sargent on duty was specifically skeptical of the mercenaries, especially Gwen and her wolf. Lieutenant Bickerstaple vouched for them, but the Sargent was having none of it. They had to stand to the side and wait for a Major to be summoned to approve their entry.

When she arrived, she took the Lieutenant aside, got his report. Then she came and checked their papers, spending a lot of time with Gwen’s. “I don’t like it”, she said in the end. “But your papers are in order, and we need the troops.” She snagged a private. “Escort… Wight’s Brigade to the mercenary barracks.” She turned back to them, “Report in there. When the Lieutenant has reported in, you’ll be paid for your service so far, and you’ll be assigned new duty. Dismissed.” She walked off without looking back.

“She just assumes we’re signing on again”, muttered Zipper.

“Let’s argue it later”, said Delta. “After we get paid.” She looked around as they were led. “Take up station on the other side of Gwen. She looks a little freaked out, and we don’t need any trouble.”

Gwen still had her hood up and looked quickly from side to side. Even though it was more crowded, she was less noticeable here, and there wasn’t as much attention from anyone immediately around them.

The mercenary barracks turned out to be a large tent in what had been the town common. There were still some livestock penned up there, but it was largely given over to a staging ground for the war effort. The private showed them to the tent flap, keeping his distance from the wolf. He seemed undecided for a while about needing to salute or not, but then gave up and just left, not meeting their eyes.

There were a few lamps lit inside the tent, but not many. It was mostly cots and palettes, and some chests scattered about. It had the smell of sweat and leather. A few cots were occupied with sleeping people, but there was only one man up and about, who came over.

He nodded to them. “Gurvan Laporte, Company du Plat” he said.

“Delta, Zipper, and Gwen, Wight’s Brigade”, said Delta.

The man did a double take at Gwen and her Wolf, then grinned. “I’m sure you have some interesting stories to add to the mix.” He waved them to follow him to one side. “There’s some empty palettes over here.” He skirted a sleeping body. A strong smell of alcohol rose from it. “Latrines are out the back. I think all the lock boxes are taken.” He stopped in an area that had less gear and plain straw sacks on the ground. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Stuff tends to go… missing… if it’s not locked down.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or watched.” He sighed theatrically. “I got the short straw, so I’m on watch tonight.”

“Thanks for the advice”, said Delta, as they dropped their packs and took off their outerwear. “We’ve had a long march and fight today. I’m not sure any of us are going anywhere.”

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“Is there anywhere to go here?” asked Zipper.

Gurvan laughed. “There are plenty of inns, taverns, night markets, and the like. They like soldiers here.” He clinked his purse. “If they have money.”

“We need to resupply gear”, said Delta. “But we haven’t been paid yet.”

Gurvan looked surprised. “They’re usually pretty good about paying their mercenaries.” He laughed again. “Better than they are at paying their own troops! They will probably sort you out in the morning. If you need a little loan in the meantime…”

“Thank you for your generous offer”, said Delta, quickly. “I think we’ll just sleep this one off.” She looked to Gwen. “Is there an archery range?”

The man nodded. “Right next to the latrines. Actually, a little too close to the latrines.” He laughed again. “It will be clear enough in the daytime.”

Delta nodded at Gwen. “Our ace archer here works at night. And she likes to keep her edge on.”

Gurvan looked at Gwen appraisingly. “Ace archer, you say?”

“She scared an ogre away today with just one shot”, said Zipper, punching Gwen in the shoulder.

“An ogre?” said Gurvan. “You were in a fight with an ogre? I thought you were in action with the Imperialists.”

“That was the night before”, said Zipper. “I’ll tell you about it for a few swigs from your flagon while these two get in their night training.” She winked at Delta and Gwen and led Gurvan back towards the entrance.

There wasn’t much to the archery range, but it was bordered by the latrines and goat pen, so there weren’t many gawkers. With only three arrows, there was a lot of going back and forth between the mark and the target, but Gwen insisted on doing it instead of Delta, practicing getting on and off her wolf each time.

Each pass Delta would give Gwen a few new words and tested her on other words. She started with the normal objects they used and wore. It took some practice, but Gwen showed determination.

As it grew later, Delta sat there dozing on and off. She didn’t want to leave Gwen on her own in a human city. She couldn’t imagine the trouble a crippled goblin could get into amongst a bunch of drunk, swaggering mercenaries. It was just as well Zipper was exaggerating their reputation. So, she just took at as watch duty on garrison. Where you had to be there, and more or less ready, but not completely awake and alert.

Sometime around midnight, judging by the stars, Zipper came out and relieved her. She had brought some leftovers she scavenged from who knows where for Gwen and the wolf. They all sat for a bit, quietly, just eating. Then Gwen recited her words for Zipper, who was much impressed. Delta left them to it.

In the morning they found there wasn’t a mess tent available for the mercenaries. Most of them were eating food at nearby street vendors. They opted to just eat more rations.

“Just as well we took what we could from the fort”, said Zipper, with disappointment. Gwen was, clearly, not enjoying the food either. Delta was watching the tent entrance, though. A trooper had arrived and was talking to people at the door. After a while they turned and pointed at her, and he made his way over.

Delta stood as he approached. “Captain Delta, Wight’s Brigade”, she said, formally. “How may I help you.”

“Um, you were with Lieutenant Bickerstaple at Fort Chichester?” he asked. She nodded. “I need to take you to payroll.” He seemed a bit resentful.

Delta looked to Zipper, who nodded. “I’ll get her settled in for the day. I don’t think anyone will mess with her given the stories I told last night.” She looked smug. “And, you know, having a rabid wolf curled up beside her can’t hurt.”

Delta turned back to the soldier. “Thank you. I can go with you now.”

He led her back into the square, and through the town. By daylight the place wasn’t all that big, or impressive. There were few public buildings, and, what was there mostly seemed to serve its position as the local market town. It wasn’t all that different from where Delta had grown up at the other end of Avenio.

The locals looked rather subdued, and those not busy with something watched her and her escort as they went by. But no one tried to talk to her or call out.

She was eventually led to a portico attached to a public building. She could see the Count’s residence opposite, with more formal guards on it. There were a few clerks there, talking amongst themselves. Delta just assumed parade rest and waited. It never paid to hurry bureaucrats. Especially when you wanted money out of them.

Eventually one of them returned his attention to his books, and then to her. She introduced herself.

“Ah”, he said, and searched for a card. He skimmed what was written. “Services rendered: escort duty. Contact with enemy. Contact with… let’s classify that as brigands.” He added some notes in red ink. “Five shillings.”

Delta bit her lip. Given what they had risked, it seemed a bit short. But she saw the checklist the clerk had composed. They were simple yes or no choices. The magnitude didn’t figure into it. She didn’t have enough experience to suggest other check marks. And, she did realize that ‘contact with the enemy’ was a bit of a stretch. So, someone was trying to lean things in her favor. With effort she said, “Thank you, sir.”

He nodded and unlocked a small chest. He counted out some coins, made her put her mark on his card, and handed the coins over to her.

They were gold. Not silver. Gold.

That changed her calculus. The gold coins, freshly minted, were easily worth many times more than their silver equivalents. Now she understood the trooper’s resentment, the drunk mercenaries, and why there was no mess tent. “Thank you, sir”, she said again, and quickly put the coins away.

He continued, not really noticing. “We’ll keep you on at standard retainer’s rate for now. Follow the directive of any commissioned officer within the confines of the town. The Countess will review the troops tomorrow at 9am. We’ll inform you of any large strategic needs as they arise.” He looked up at her at that point. “You are also welcome to avail of our postal service to contact any other brigades you happen to know. We will pay a finder’s fee for any additional mercenaries you can persuade to join the cause.” He smiled thinly.

“I will do what I can”, said Delta.

“That is all I have”, he said. “Do you have any other business I can help you with?”

“Not at this time”, said Delta. He nodded and she left.