Gwen was in good humor the next morning when she woke Zipper up. She had been out all night on a patrol. Shortly after dinner someone had come around who spoke goblin and gave her lengthy instructions on what scouting they wanted to have happen. She looked tired now, but not too tired to delight in Zipper’s groans.

“Next time”, moaned Zipper, “It’s a drinking contest. I know I can drink you under the table.”

“No poison”, said Gwen.

Zipper burped, and grimaced. “No poison? Too late for that.”

Delta watched with mild amusement, laying out her armor. “You probably want to visit the latrines before you strap up”, she said.

“Good point”, said Zipper, and crawled out of the tent.

Gwen sighed, and pulled herself up into her cot. She was getting a lot better at moving around. A full stomach certainly seemed to do her some good.

“Where you go?” asked Delta in goblin.

“Up road. Edge forest. Touchelle. Down road. Bouger. Saw nothing. Smelled nothing”, she said with her eyes closed.

“I don’t understand why they aren’t advancing”, said Delta. “There are no enemies in sight. They’ve secured this area. But they just want to sit back and train.”

Gwen made a vague motion with her hand. “Pay good. Food good.”

“True”, said Delta, and went back to inspecting her armor. She hadn’t had the leisure to do a lot of maintenance on it recently, so she took her time. Her body was protected by a set of brigandine, a coat of plates riveted to an outer garment of leather. The plates would probably outlast her, but the leather was stiffened in places from too much water. She had bought pots of wax and oil in Metzre for this and got down to softening up the leather where it needed it. She noted one or two rivets that were close to pulling through. Not an immediate danger. But she might make sure she visited the armorer if the camp had one before the end of their contract.

Her leggings also had thick leather thighs and calves, riveted to good steel knee cops that had cost her a pretty penny. They had fared much better and she just needed to wipe them down with oil. She had a small wire brush to polish any rust off the steel, and a different oil to give it a bit of protection against the elements.

Her arm harness was of similar construction, but the upper parts had an extra joint with a simple iron plate serving as the pauldron to protect her shoulders and connecting to a hinged gorget that bound around her neck. She’d love to upgrade to a steel gorget, as she had seen some terrible wounds from just the wrong sort of blow. If their fortunes kept going like this, she should have the money soon. But, for now, she just oiled them to keep them going as long as she could.

Her gauntlets, as well, were pretty primitive. Large bent plates of iron held together with a few rivets and leather thong. A stiff leather cuff covered her wrist. Serviceable. And essential since her hands were right out in the open with her weapon of choice. She had seen some very, very nice articulated steel clamshell ones, but she knew those were going to remain outside her reach for quite some time.

Zipper staggered back as Delta was getting to her helmet. “No scatological comments”, warned Delta.

Zipper sighed in mock exasperation but said nothing. She began gathering her kit together.

“You should see to your stuff tonight”, said Delta, capping the small bottles and securing the boxes of ointment.

“I promise, single portions”, swore Zipper.

They made their way out to the parade ground and watched the drilling for a while. It was mostly shields doing shield maneuvers. They were quite good at it. At least as far as performing for a parade.

The Sargent noted the two of them and waved them over. He replaced their weapons with blunt poles. Delta argued with him for a while. The poles did not have any back spikes, and she had to convey the importance of this to him. After a while he called over a carpenter to try to add a non-lethal back spike to her pole just to humor her.

While that was being done, he mixed the shields up into a more linear shield wall, rather than the tortoise shapes they seemed to like so much. Delta and Zipper were placed in the middle, to get the troops used to accommodating members that didn’t have exactly the same equipment. There was some grumbling and jostling as the poles expressed how much working room they needed in the formation.

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The grumbling got quieter when they approached their target, a simple propped up wall of shields, and the two mercenaries began landing blows on it while the unit was still shuffling up to what they considered striking range. The Sargent harangued them to bring the point home that their role in a mixed unit was just defense. The poles were their offense, and that was better because they had longer range. He kept drilling into them that they had to be flexible and be aware of all their options. He repeated the phrase about the General liking options.

When the modified pole came back, they switched out again. The Sargent drew a line in the sand and forbid them to cross it. Delta and Zipper ranged on the other side of it, lining up their choices, coordinating their blows, and taking the line apart. It was excellent practice for them. Delta would snag and pull a shield open; Zipper would take it down. Or, Delta would just rest her pole in the right place on top of a shield, and the leverage would stop them raising it as Zipper, once more, shot in for the kill. Or, simplest of all, they would just do a high-low, where one struck high, the other low. The shield couldn’t block both and came crashing down.

Needless to say, this disgruntled the men terribly. Tempers flared and a few crossed the line after a none-to-soft blow from one of the spears. The Sargent chewed them out, but escalated things to the next level. He picked up his own gear, and stood off with Delta and Zipper, and erased the line.

The men were delighted, turtled up, and began their slow approach. The Sargent’s one shield kept them from getting to close too fast, and Delta and Zipper were able to get in at them with much the same effect. By slowly giving ground, they kept them at the range they liked, and prevented them from getting into a range they could make any strikes from. When they lost too many to have any cohesion, the Sargent called a stop to it. He pointed out that he hadn’t thrown a single blow.

This general scenario played itself out over the course of the day. Later troops were more wary, as some of them had seen earlier training. But it mostly went the same. Different Sergeants swapped in over the day as well.

As time went on, during breaks, Delta noticed that the camp seemed less congested than previously. This became much more apparent towards the close when there was almost no one around. When the last training squad marched off, the place was almost completely deserted.

“Where did they go?” Zipper hadn’t really been tracking until then.

“Dunno” said Delta. “They’ve been thinning out all day. I’d say they’re deploying, but I have no idea where. They didn’t go down the road we came down.”

“Huh”, said Zipper. “Being short, I just don’t pay attention. I leave it to the giants like you.” She pointed to the side. “Mess tent is still here.”

“Well, I guess you are all set then.”

Gwen joined them for mealtime and got a rousing welcome from the cook. The place was all but deserted which allowed him time to make food especially for her.

“I think he’s got a shine for you”, said Zipper. It took a bit to convey exactly what she meant, and Gwen got awfully embarrassed when she understood, much to Zipper’s delight.

It was a mixed bunch. The new Amazon recruits were at one table. Another had a smattering of officers at it, and what appeared to be a few civilians. The small number of regular troops sat near the mercenaries.

They brought Gwen up to date with the gossip of the day, and commented on the learning capabilities, or lack thereof, of the troops they had faced. They really could use some diversity in what they were equipped with. Delta suspected that they would move on from training people how to fight against pole arms to how to fight with pole arms. If there was anyone there tomorrow.

One of the civilians approached their table and Delta looked up, surprised to recognize Sir Chardon. “Greetings good mercenary”, he said.

“I guess you made it to Touchelle”, said Delta. “Was your fiancé in good health?”

He smiled and sat down. “Thank you. Yes.” He nodded back towards the officers. “She, apparently, was in no danger. Their idea of taking a captive is to politely ask you to stay in your house and leaving it up to your honor.” He shook his head. “Very civilized.”

“Are you also a captive?” asked Delta.

He smiled politely. “Technically, I’m a prisoner of war, since I am a Knight sworn to serve the Count. But they afforded me the same leniency under the same conditions.”

“Did the pigeon get away?” asked Zipper.

Chardon laughed. “Yes, I managed to let that go, once their ambush was sprung. They fired a few shots at it, but the plucky little bird managed to avoid them. I thought I was next, but they were pretty good sports about it.”

“So, Count Metzre knows they are coming”, said Delta.

“I presume so”, said Sir Chardon. “I played my role as the sacrificial lamb.”

“Why didn’t they move out”, wondered Delta. Mostly to herself.

“I think they kind of have”, said Zipper, gesturing at the empty tent.

Delta nodded. “They have now. But everything up till now has been about misinformation and misdirection.”

“Maybe they’ve decided it is time for a fair and honest settlement in the field”, said Sir Chardon.

“If that was the case, they would have taken the main road”, said Delta.

“They didn’t?” asked Sir Chardon. Delta shook her head. He pondered this for a while. “Oh, I kind of assumed you had taken their shilling. Is that not the case?”

“We have”, said Delta. “For training and guard duty. We haven’t signed up for combat.”

“I was just wondering why you were pondering this if you are now on the other side. So, to speak.”

“It’s always wise, in the mercenary business, to keep yourself informed.”