An Imperialist runner came in during the middle of the afternoon, and the talks between Moss and Rault broke up shortly thereafter. Moss appeared to be in as good spirits as he was at the start, and Rault was polite and formal. They both agreed to a quick meeting in the morning to finalize things.

Sir Rault’s expression hardened as they left the village though and headed back to the farmhouse. Fabrizio made a few idle comments, but Rault seemed lost in thought.

He called Delta and Zipper into the main room of the farmhouse after they had seen to the livestock. There was a book on the table before him and he looked troubled. “Did you find anything out from the troopers?” he asked, without preamble.

“We mostly gossiped about the battle”, said Delta. “I’ve never talked to an orc before. Especially not a military one. They have an interesting way of looking at things.”

Rault’s eyes narrowed. “Were they in the flankers? The ones who taunted us?”

“No”, said Delta quickly. She thought for a minute and tried to digest what had been said.

“Their units are mixed”, said Zipper, in the pause. “Whenever they talked about who was assigned where, they mostly talked about orcs from their tribe, but they were all over the place. They are not dividing their units on a tribe-by-tribe basis.”

Sir Rault nodded. “That’s odd. I would have thought they would fight better that way.”

“If they didn’t fight each other”, said Fabrizio.

He initially looked dismissive of Fabrizio, but then considered. “They are known for that. Mixing them up would fit if the long-term objective was to create an integrated sustainable force. Rather than just using them as fodder.”

“The battle was very deeply thought out”, said Delta. “From their talk, the central thrust, the distraction of the flank, it was all planned that way. And, from a few other things they mentioned, they also had alternate orders. If the flank hadn’t been distracted, the unit these two fought in was supposed to form a physical barrier to protect their central thrust. They were disappointed that didn’t happen.”

“We were just told to kind of go in there and stab people”, said Zipper. Then, belatedly, “I’m sure you had a detailed plan too. It just may not have filtered down to our level.”

Sir Rault shook his head. “The criticism is fair. We spent half the council of war with the Count regaling past fights and drinking to our pending success. We saw this as a rag-tag political ploy by some ousted elite from Romitu city.” He shook his head again. Then he looked up in the direction of the barn. “I give a lot more credence to your scout’s report. I didn’t bring the subject up, but he did put emphasis on how they chose to respect Lyre’s authority and didn’t want to burden them with foraging troops.”

“Their troops don’t forage”, said Zipper. “Yeah, I know. That makes no sense. All troops everywhere raid the countryside for food. An army marches on its belly and all that. Fault me as much as you want for being very food focused, but I got a good look at the kitchen in their camp. Chef was pulling stuff out of organized crates and had access to some hellish spices. I don’t know where he got it from, but it didn’t come from the Cleres countryside.”

Sir Rault rubbed his chin and muttered to himself. “If they have no troops here, why would he go out of his way to say that they have no troops here? Did he know we had scouted? Did he assume we had scouted?”

“Sir?” asked Delta. “Was there anything else he knew that he shouldn’t have known?”

Sir Rault considered. “Maybe. He did refer to the Countess’s tender years.”

“Tender years?” asked Zipper.

“She’s twelve”, said Sir Rault, resignedly. “We’ve been quiet about that. But it may be that they just have very good spies.” And, muttering to himself, “Or very well-paid informants.”

“Or he may have just read your mind”, said Delta. Sir Rault looked surprised. “That man was a mage. He may have dressed like a constable, or whatever, but you don’t need a pointy hat with stars to be a mage. He certainly had access to magic.” She leaned forward. “That translation spell. It captured the intent of what the person said, it didn’t change the words at all. That’s messing with your mind. I don’t know anything about magic, but if you can do that, it shouldn’t be too hard to read minds.”

The man tapped the book. “They certainly have some form of magic communication. This book comes from their General’s personal library. It’s a work on heraldry with his personal notes in it. He’s loaning it to the Countess because of her interest. Either they have very, very good spies, and a sense of drama, or he had to inform them during the meeting to get that runner there by the afternoon.”

“This is a feint”, said Sir Rault, suddenly. “If this man is as serious as his battle planning is, why would he bother with Montihouse at all? I thought we were playing for time. Now I think he is playing for time. If everyone thinks he’s moving through Lyre towards Montihouse then he must be moving somewhere else.”

“That would be south”, said Delta. “He came from the north, and there’s only swamps and the lake to the west.”

“Metzre, Ancourt and Toutiti are to the south”, said Fabrizio. “But their armies aren’t as mighty as Montihouse. Why would he leave us at his back to fight them?”

“Because he wants something beyond them”, said Sir Rault. “He’s going for Avenio itself. If he takes the crown, he can pick the rest off at his leisure. Or just demand their obedience. We’re not as factious as Romitu.”

“How are we supposed to fight someone who can read our mind!” complained Fabrizio, very alarmed at the direction things are going in.

A smile crept across Sir Rault’s face. “By not knowing what we’re doing.” This confused everyone. He sat up straight in his seat. “Captain Delta. You have proven yourself a sharp thinker capable of reasoned analysis and planning.”

“Sir?” said Delta, with some worry.

“We have defined the problem. This upstart is aiming to take the throne of Avenio. People must be warned, and we must do our best to stop him. I charge you with determining the best plan and enacting it to the best of your ability. And to not inform me, or anyone that might be in contact with the Imperialists of what the details are.”

“Sir!” said Delta, quite concerned.

“Fabrizio, the money bag”, commanded Sir Rault.

“Sir?” said Fabrizio, with some reluctance. After a glare he got it out.

After checking it briefly, Sir Rault tossed it to Delta. Fabrizio’s eyes followed it hungrily. “Spend what you need to achieve this cause. Pay yourselves a respectable fee as long as you can pursue this. And, when you have done what you can, return anything that is left to my estate at your convenience.” He smiled and nodded to her. “Should you ever consider leaving the mercenary business, be it known that you, or any of your company, have an open offer of employment as a retainer to me. Or, at least, I am more than welcome to write a letter of reference to your excellence.”

Delta swallowed hard. “I’m not sure, sir…”

“Of course you aren’t”, said Sir Rault. “Modesty makes for better decision making. But I am sure. Go now. Do not speak to me further so I can’t reveal any more.”

Delta got up, a bit in shock. Zipper followed too, eyes mostly on the purse. They both saluted and left.

“Sky Father above!” swore Zipper. “How much is in there?” They had gone back to the barn, and Delta stood there, lost in thought. “What are we going to do?”

Delta closed her eyes and tried to envisage a map she once saw. “Head south. There’s a big river that runs between Ancourt and Metzre. This close to the lake shore I think there are only two crossings. If they keep to the coast, they’ll head for the downstream one. So, we should make for the upstream one. We should warn anyone we pass, but overall try to get word to Avenio.”

Zipper blinked several times. “Man. That guy had you pegged!” she said with delight. “He puts the fate of the world on yours shoulder, and two minutes later you have a plan.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Delta rolled her eyes. “It’s not a good plan. But it’s something to start with.” She bent down and touched Gwen. “Time to get up.” Gwen roused, and looked around groggily.

“Dusk and dawn”, said Zipper. “We should do most of our travel then. Hunker down otherwise. We’ll be, on average, most alert then, and when stopped, those not resting will be their widest awake.”

“See”, smirked Delta. “You can do it too. Especially when it involves mealtimes.”

“Hey!” protested Zipper. “My stomach proved extremely useful back there. Totally found a key to their operation.”

“Let’s see how many miles we can put between us and this place”, said Delta. For a moment she stopped and contemplated Fabrizio’s horse. It was a fine animal. Well trained, sturdy, and could go for hours. It would be within her rights to take it. For the cause.

But then Zipper lumbered past with her donkey. Delta sighed. That was the bottleneck. Having her own bit of fine horseflesh wouldn’t help there. There was no point in intentionally pissing off Fabrizio. She started to saddle the horse she had been given. At least, with the pouch of money, she would be able to afford its fodder.

The sun was still an hour or two from setting, but it was low enough that Gwen could get by with just the deep hood. Delta looked down the road towards Lyre, and up and down the countryside around them.

“Let’s head back in the direction of Montihouse until we come to some cover. Then we should cut over the fields as much to the south as we can.” She made hand gestures for Gwen to follow.

“It will be slow going”, said Zipper. “Either lanes or hedgerows to deal with.”

Delta shrugged. “At least it will be downhill. It’s got to go back down again anyway if I remember that river rightly.”

“Should I pop in quickly to stock up on food?” asked Zipper, hopefully.

“No”, Delta laughed. “Let’s not bankrupt these farmers. We’ve enough for now, and money to buy more later.”

They set off.

An Imperialist runner came in during the middle of the afternoon, and the talks between Moss and Rault broke up shortly thereafter. Moss appeared to be in as good spirits as he was at the start, and Rault was polite and formal. They both agreed to a quick meeting in the morning to finalize things.

Sir Rault’s expression hardened as they left the village though and headed back to the farmhouse. Fabrizio made a few idle comments, but Rault seemed lost in thought.

He called Delta and Zipper into the main room of the farmhouse after they had seen to the livestock. There was a book on the table before him and he looked troubled. “Did you find anything out from the troopers?” he asked, without preamble.

“We mostly gossiped about the battle”, said Delta. “I’ve never talked to an orc before. Especially not a military one. They have an interesting way of looking at things.”

Rault’s eyes narrowed. “Were they in the flankers? The ones who taunted us?”

“No”, said Delta quickly. She thought for a minute and tried to digest what had been said.

“Their units are mixed”, said Zipper, in the pause. “Whenever they talked about who was assigned where, they mostly talked about orcs from their tribe, but they were all over the place. They are not dividing their units on a tribe-by-tribe basis.”

Sir Rault nodded. “That’s odd. I would have thought they would fight better that way.”

“If they didn’t fight each other”, said Fabrizio.

He initially looked dismissive of Fabrizio, but then considered. “They are known for that. Mixing them up would fit if the long-term objective was to create an integrated sustainable force. Rather than just using them as fodder.”

“The battle was very deeply thought out”, said Delta. “From their talk, the central thrust, the distraction of the flank, it was all planned that way. And, from a few other things they mentioned, they also had alternate orders. If the flank hadn’t been distracted, the unit these two fought in was supposed to form a physical barrier to protect their central thrust. They were disappointed that didn’t happen.”

“We were just told to kind of go in there and stab people”, said Zipper. Then, belatedly, “I’m sure you had a detailed plan too. It just may not have filtered down to our level.”

Sir Rault shook his head. “The criticism is fair. We spent half the council of war with the Count regaling past fights and drinking to our pending success. We saw this as a rag-tag political ploy by some ousted elite from Romitu city.” He shook his head again. Then he looked up in the direction of the barn. “I give a lot more credence to your scout’s report. I didn’t bring the subject up, but he did put emphasis on how they chose to respect Lyre’s authority and didn’t want to burden them with foraging troops.”

“Their troops don’t forage”, said Zipper. “Yeah, I know. That makes no sense. All troops everywhere raid the countryside for food. An army marches on its belly and all that. Fault me as much as you want for being very food focused, but I got a good look at the kitchen in their camp. Chef was pulling stuff out of organized crates and had access to some hellish spices. I don’t know where he got it from, but it didn’t come from the Cleres countryside.”

Sir Rault rubbed his chin and muttered to himself. “If they have no troops here, why would he go out of his way to say that they have no troops here? Did he know we had scouted? Did he assume we had scouted?”

“Sir?” asked Delta. “Was there anything else he knew that he shouldn’t have known?”

Sir Rault considered. “Maybe. He did refer to the Countess’s tender years.”

“Tender years?” asked Zipper.

“She’s twelve”, said Sir Rault, resignedly. “We’ve been quiet about that. But it may be that they just have very good spies.” And, muttering to himself, “Or very well-paid informants.”

“Or he may have just read your mind”, said Delta. Sir Rault looked surprised. “That man was a mage. He may have dressed like a constable, or whatever, but you don’t need a pointy hat with stars to be a mage. He certainly had access to magic.” She leaned forward. “That translation spell. It captured the intent of what the person said, it didn’t change the words at all. That’s messing with your mind. I don’t know anything about magic, but if you can do that, it shouldn’t be too hard to read minds.”

The man tapped the book. “They certainly have some form of magic communication. This book comes from their General’s personal library. It’s a work on heraldry with his personal notes in it. He’s loaning it to the Countess because of her interest. Either they have very, very good spies, and a sense of drama, or he had to inform them during the meeting to get that runner there by the afternoon.”

“This is a feint”, said Sir Rault, suddenly. “If this man is as serious as his battle planning is, why would he bother with Montihouse at all? I thought we were playing for time. Now I think he is playing for time. If everyone thinks he’s moving through Lyre towards Montihouse then he must be moving somewhere else.”

“That would be south”, said Delta. “He came from the north, and there’s only swamps and the lake to the west.”

“Metzre, Ancourt and Toutiti are to the south”, said Fabrizio. “But their armies aren’t as mighty as Montihouse. Why would he leave us at his back to fight them?”

“Because he wants something beyond them”, said Sir Rault. “He’s going for Avenio itself. If he takes the crown, he can pick the rest off at his leisure. Or just demand their obedience. We’re not as factious as Romitu.”

“How are we supposed to fight someone who can read our mind!” complained Fabrizio, very alarmed at the direction things are going in.

A smile crept across Sir Rault’s face. “By not knowing what we’re doing.” This confused everyone. He sat up straight in his seat. “Captain Delta. You have proven yourself a sharp thinker capable of reasoned analysis and planning.”

“Sir?” said Delta, with some worry.

“We have defined the problem. This upstart is aiming to take the throne of Avenio. People must be warned, and we must do our best to stop him. I charge you with determining the best plan and enacting it to the best of your ability. And to not inform me, or anyone that might be in contact with the Imperialists of what the details are.”

“Sir!” said Delta, quite concerned.

“Fabrizio, the money bag”, commanded Sir Rault.

“Sir?” said Fabrizio, with some reluctance. After a glare he got it out.

After checking it briefly, Sir Rault tossed it to Delta. Fabrizio’s eyes followed it hungrily. “Spend what you need to achieve this cause. Pay yourselves a respectable fee as long as you can pursue this. And, when you have done what you can, return anything that is left to my estate at your convenience.” He smiled and nodded to her. “Should you ever consider leaving the mercenary business, be it known that you, or any of your company, have an open offer of employment as a retainer to me. Or, at least, I am more than welcome to write a letter of reference to your excellence.”

Delta swallowed hard. “I’m not sure, sir…”

“Of course you aren’t”, said Sir Rault. “Modesty makes for better decision making. But I am sure. Go now. Do not speak to me further so I can’t reveal any more.”

Delta got up, a bit in shock. Zipper followed too, eyes mostly on the purse. They both saluted and left.

“Sky Father above!” swore Zipper. “How much is in there?” They had gone back to the barn, and Delta stood there, lost in thought. “What are we going to do?”

Delta closed her eyes and tried to envisage a map she once saw. “Head south. There’s a big river that runs between Ancourt and Metzre. This close to the lake shore I think there are only two crossings. If they keep to the coast, they’ll head for the downstream one. So, we should make for the upstream one. We should warn anyone we pass, but overall try to get word to Avenio.”

Zipper blinked several times. “Man. That guy had you pegged!” she said with delight. “He puts the fate of the world on yours shoulder, and two minutes later you have a plan.”

Delta rolled her eyes. “It’s not a good plan. But it’s something to start with.” She bent down and touched Gwen. “Time to get up.” Gwen roused, and looked around groggily.

“Dusk and dawn”, said Zipper. “We should do most of our travel then. Hunker down otherwise. We’ll be, on average, most alert then, and when stopped, those not resting will be their widest awake.”

“See”, smirked Delta. “You can do it too. Especially when it involves mealtimes.”

“Hey!” protested Zipper. “My stomach proved extremely useful back there. Totally found a key to their operation.”

“Let’s see how many miles we can put between us and this place”, said Delta. For a moment she stopped and contemplated Fabrizio’s horse. It was a fine animal. Well trained, sturdy, and could go for hours. It would be within her rights to take it. For the cause.

But then Zipper lumbered past with her donkey. Delta sighed. That was the bottleneck. Having her own bit of fine horseflesh wouldn’t help there. There was no point in intentionally pissing off Fabrizio. She started to saddle the horse she had been given. At least, with the pouch of money, she would be able to afford its fodder.

The sun was still an hour or two from setting, but it was low enough that Gwen could get by with just the deep hood. Delta looked down the road towards Lyre, and up and down the countryside around them.

“Let’s head back in the direction of Montihouse until we come to some cover. Then we should cut over the fields as much to the south as we can.” She made hand gestures for Gwen to follow.

“It will be slow going”, said Zipper. “Either lanes or hedgerows to deal with.”

Delta shrugged. “At least it will be downhill. It’s got to go back down again anyway if I remember that river rightly.”

“Should I pop in quickly to stock up on food?” asked Zipper, hopefully.

“No”, Delta laughed. “Let’s not bankrupt these farmers. We’ve enough for now, and money to buy more later.”

They set off.