As Alpheo knelt down amidst the lush greenery, his companions watched on with varying degrees of perplexity. Egil, Clio, and Jarva exchanged bemused glances, while Asag remained absorbed in observing the activity without saying anything

With a deliberate motion, Alpheo scooped up a handful of soil, feeling its gritty texture slip through his fingers. "The land is fertile," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the rich blackness of the earth.

"Aye, too bad we're not farmers, but warriors," Egil quipped, his tone tinged with humor as he raised an eyebrow at Alpheo. ''Unless you wanna pick up a hoe?''

"Half of our men are farmers, remember? Only a quarter of them were 'warriors', putting importance on the 'were' " Clio interjected

"And thanks to this one all of them are now soldiers " Jarva added, nodding toward Alpheo, "we trained them in formation and tactics, just like he requested. All they need is a bit of motivation, and they'll be warriors in their own right. They just need to pop the cherry.And you know give them a bit of motivation to rouse their warrior's spirit. We have them trained for few months, they are certainly better than most peasants taken from the field and given a spear, to fight some lord's war . "

Alpheo remained absorbed in his examination of the soil, watching as insects scurried amidst the grains. This land was truly fertile…However, Egil's sharp tone broke the reverie. "Stop fooling around, Alpheo. Do you want them to think you're just a child playing in the dirt?"

Startled, Alpheo stood up hastily, brushing the dirt from his hands with a sheepish grin. "All of us are children within ourselves, we just hide it from the rest fearing their judgment. I am only brave enough not to give half a fuck about other's people opinion . You shouldn't either " he murmured, his demeanor shifting to one of readiness as he prepared to resume their work.

Clio nervously scratched his hair, leaning in towards Alpheo with a troubled expression. "Listen, most of our soldiers are greenhorns. They're not warriors; many of them were farmers before being made slaves, we certainly cannot take such risky job "

Alpheo met Clio's gaze with a confident grin. "Don't worry, Clio. I've trained them well. They might not have battle scars, but they'll surprise you. Trust me, they'll function just perfectly."

Skeptical, Clio raised an eyebrow. "Half of them have never even held a spear before! And the other half has never set foot on a battlefield. This is serious business, Alpheo! This is supposed to be a war, not some tavern brawl!"

Alpheo placed a reassuring hand on Clio's shoulder. "You're overthinking it. Our opponents won't be the standardized and disciplined like the 'elite' imperial army," he explained, reminding himself that the forces they encountered in Arlania were hardly formidable foes; most of them were levies, not the disciplined army the Empire usually employed.

"I've done my research here, and most armies that these princes employ are nothing more than a ragtag collection of levies and farmers sent into battle with barely any equipment."

Gesturing towards their camp, though most soldiers were out of sight, Alpheo made his point clear to Clio. "Half our men have breastplates, and the rest have at least chainmail and helmets. I doubt our enemies will even bother outfitting their soldiers with helmets! What I mean to say is that we'll be better equipped, better armed, and better disciplined than whatever rabble these 'princes' have. We'll tear one army apart, while the other we will rip off of all thier coins , especially since their leader is losing the war.Each soldier's spear will go through three arses, by the time the enemy understand who are they fighting against"

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"Which brings up another question," Egil muttered. "Why the hell did you seek employment with this one in particular? Just as you said, they're losing."

Alpheo grinned confidently. "That means their coffers will be particularly deep. Trust me, boys, we'll make it big here. We're up against mere peasants; we just need to inflict a few casualties before they realize they're outmatched.In short, we will make our employer pay dearly."

''Whatever , I will trust your judgment again'' Clio exhaled as Alpheo smiled. ''Let's hope it is as you say''

''I feel like your trust in me is slipping out'' Alpheo muttered with a smile as he extended his hand towards Clio , who looked at his leader with confusion '' I just need one miracle to put it back, then'', he said as he touched his friend's nose with the finger , before having the arm slapped away , causing the others to laugh.

"Speaking of employment," Jarva interjected after his small laughter , pointing toward the horizon where a dozen riders were approaching. "Make sure not to fuck it up, Alpheo."

Alpheo's smirk widened. "And how would I fuck it up, my goodman?"

"By fooling around like you are now," Jarva retorted. "You always act as if others are beneath you, as if they're your playthings. Need I remind you that we're dealing with bastards who believe they're chosen by the gods at birth to rule over us? Be cautious not to provoke them, especially now that we can't afford it."

"Of course, 'father'," Alpheo quipped, deftly dodging a playful strike aimed at his shoulder. "Getting old, are we?"

Jarva grumbled in response as their guests arrived.

Soon the group started getting serious. Jarva , Clio , Egil, and Asag stood behind Alpheo, while Laetio was standing behind in the camp looking after the soldiers.

'All right, time to get into business mode 'Alpheo mused as he watched the group of riders approaching him. He started to count them; in total, they were fifteen. One of them was holding a banner showing a star embraced by fire, or something like that. 'It certainly is ugly'' He looked behind himself , 'maybe I should create a banner of my own'.

That was for the future , though right now they were to get their first employment.

As the riders approached, Alpheo assessed them with a discerning eye. They were clad in chainmail and breastplates, their demeanor stern and expectant. Alpheo felt their gaze linger on him, sizing him up as he did them. It was a silent standoff, with each party waiting for the other to make the first move in the negotiation. Alpheo, disdainful of such formalities, decided to take the initiative.

"May I know with whom I have the honor of conducting our business negotiations?" Alpheo inquired, offering a friendly smile.

"You treat with me, mercenary," a man declared as he dismounted from his horse. Unlike the others, he left his helmet off, allowing his white hair to billow in the wind. His gaze bore into Alpheo with an air of scrutiny, his expression tinged with a hint of disapproval.

"Are you the leader of this company?" he questioned further clearly surprised by the latter age.

'he is not even a man', he thought as he stared at Alpheo

"I am the one who holds such honor. My name is Alpheo. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.?" Alpheo replied, extending a courteous hand.

"Sir Robert. I serve as the accountant of my prince, Arkawatt of House Aveloni-isha " the man introduced himself tersely.

"Well, good, sir Robert. As you can see, I have prepared a table for our discussion." Alpheo gestured toward the spread of refreshments laid out before them. "May I offer you some refreshment?" he continued, motioning to the cheese, bread, smoked meat, and wine waiting to be served.

Robert said nothing as he took his seat at the table, visibly irked by Alpheo's presumption of seating himself first. Alpheo, however, paid little heed to the perceived breach of protocol. After all, Arkawatt's need for troops was dire, and Alpheo needed to pinpoint his standing from the start.It was not him that came to them , but the opposite.

Over the past three years, the prince of Yarzat has found himself at war with the neighboring ruler of Qulyat. Yarzat had suffered significant setbacks, steadily losing ground to their adversary. Now, facing the prospect of a decisive engagement, the prince sought to turn the tides of war in his favor.

Preparations were underway for a campaign that would see Yarzat's forces confront their Qulyati foes on the battlefield . The prince's objective was clear: to deal a crippling blow to his adversary, buying precious time to reclaim lost territories and consolidate his holdings.

In these conflicts, waged between petty rulers, the armies marshaled were modest in size. Typically, each prince could muster no more than 2,000 soldiers, a meager force by any standard. However, the current circumstances were dire for Yarzat, as their available manpower numbered a mere 700.

Traditionally, the nobles would rally to their liege's cause, bolstering the ranks with levied troops. Yet, in this instance, the relationship between the prince and his vassals was strained, the exact cause of which remained unknown to Alpheo . Regardless of the underlying tensions, one thing was certain: Arkawatt, was in dire need of reinforcements, and Alpheo came just at the right time.Albeit not with a 'good' price.