After walking around for a couple hours and asking for directions from several locals. Both me and Kazamir found the bar where Alexei and his new buddies were drinking. As I peeked my head in through the door, I saw Alexei and a few other guys sitting around a table in a loud bar-like room. I looked down at myself. My BDUs were still covered in a thin layer of dust and dried mud with specs of dried blood peppering my uniform. But, it was too late anyway as Alexei had spotted me and had started to wave me over.

I straightened my back and walked over to that table like I had a purpose. Alexei noticed my posture and commented on it.

“Jeez, boss did someone find a massive stick and shove it up your ass while I was here drinking?”

I slouched a bit at his jab.

“Just trying to make a good first impression is all.”

As I talked I studied the other people at the table. There was one big, well-muscled, white man with a fucking great beard. Another was a shorter but equally strong-looking Mexican man with a sharp nose and light stubble across most of his face. His dark brown eyes never seemed to leave mine as I assessed him. The last man I laid eyes on was an eastern European for sure, I even saw his Polish flag on his shoulder sleeve, he was clean-cut but with signs of scruff. His eyes were a dark green but black hair topped his head.

I don’t know if it was better or worse but all of them had the same amount of filth on their uniforms as me. I pulled up a chair and sat in between Alexei and the pole. Kazamir did the same and pulled up a chair in between the big guy and the pole. As soon as I had sat down at the table the big man raised a hand into the air and bellowed in a Scottish accent.

“Could I get an ale for this man?!”

A nearby waiter waved his hand in acknowledgment. Once the big man put his hand down, Alexei started introducing everyone.

“Well, I’ve already told them your name, about time I did likewise.”

He pointed to the big guy.

“This is Mc’cullen, he’s a royal engineer from Scotland.”

Alexei gestured to the Mexican man.

“Xavier over there is a mechanic from northern Mexico. And last but not least the grumpy one over there is Leszek ‘Les’ Cackowski from Poland.”

After the introductions, the rest of the night was spent drinking and telling stories from before we got transported. Some particularly interesting stories were Xavier’s story of survival in the gang-infested countryside of Mexico. Alexei’s stories about the cobweb of lies in the Russian army. Finally, Mc’cullen had a story about how a bar fight over a girl escalated into a local three-way gang war.

As the night went on no one except the tired front desk clerk noticed as a cloaked figure entered and paid for a room then vanished up the stairs.

____________________________________________________________________________

In the basement of an ordinary townhouse, if anyone looked into the records would have been owned by a far-off small noble family. Now became a meeting place for three cloaked men. The basement was well-kept, it had a musty scent and was dark except for a scattering of wall-mounted torches.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

The Figures sat around a rough round wooden table. The only note-worthy thing to say about the chairs the men were sitting on is that one of them was noticeably taller than the others.

“We failed, I am not going to hold anyone accountable. Everyone did their jobs well. Even so, we have to remember that war is a two-player game. It seems that some powerful foreign mercenaries managed to get inside before the siege commenced. Now, we have to cover our tracks and wait for our next opportunity.”

The one with the high chair stated matter of factly. Another one of the cloaked figures nodded and then began speaking.

“Even so, we are still going to lose power and influence. On top of that, I had to pull some very obvious strings for this gambit. We may lose some important pieces to counter-intelligence.”

The other two men sighed.

The last man decided to speak up.

“It doesn’t matter if we lose them now, they have served their purpose in the game. In any case, this has been a major setback. But, we still have our moles in the Royal Intelligence Committee, so I say we use them to figure out who is compromised. Then reinforce them to look like they were the main core of this conspiracy.”

The man on the high chair seemed to agree with this idea as he said.

“I quite like that idea, get a list of all of those who have been compromised then reassign them to a different chain of command and cut them off from the rest of the organization. Then if we can try to use our moles in the Royal Intelligence Committee to lead them to this cell we might gain a little more influence in the RIC.”

The other two nodded and oathed

“It shall be done, my lord.”

____________________________________________________________________________

War chief Ewald Ruben overlooked a dirt road littered with burning carts whilst sitting astride his war horse Leon. Ewald let his mind wander along the path of this caravan.

‘Where were they coming from, and Who were they.’

Two questions the Ewald wanted to answer. Ewald watched as a short green figure tried fleeing from a burning cart. He watched as a circling rider saw the goblin attempting to flee and charged him down. The rider himself was an average rider of the ork clan Ogrul. The rider had the well-muscled physique of a young strong Ork but Ewald failed to find battle scars on the young rider. After a few seconds of riding the rider swung his sword low and cut down the fleeing goblin with a slice to his back.

Ewald took his mind off the already-won battle in front of him. Instead, he zoomed out in his mind’s eye to the wider campaign. He had been invited along with the leaders of all the easterly clans to the Khan of Khan’s war tent. They had talked long into the night about a large army marching under the flag of the goblin emperor.

The Khan of Khan’s had decided to not fight the army directly but to attack the scouting and logistics of their enemy. Leaving their enemy blind and hungry. Ewald had doubts then and he continues to have doubts now. Ewald’s first instinct is to attack and seize control of the speed advantage of his armies. The only problem with his plans is the heavily fortified cities of Rydel and Pennington.

While battering rams may take down the wall or gate. Ewald knew that the magical academies in these cities, while not being as good as the goblin capital of Treznor did have the ability to churn out a few battle-class mages, which would need to be countered by heavy armor or battle mages of his own.

While being a nomad had its advantages being able to learn magic wasn’t one of them. So battle-class mages are hard to find amongst the ranks of the Khan’s armies. As for heavy armor, Ewald knew that was limited, to say the least. That comes back to being a nomad, when you are constantly moving you can’t make forges to craft heavy plate armor, let alone have the time to master the craftsmanship to actually make a set. So the only way to acquire a set of plate armor is through crudely combining different sets or finding a 3rd party vendor.

That reminded Ewald, the road where the burning caravan led from the human territory. That could mean two things Ewald knew. Either the Humans were now supplying the Goblins or the Goblins were now starting to raid across the border. Ewald had to find out which one was the truth. If the latter were true then the Khan’s armies might gain access to more heavy armor and training for mages.

‘That might give us the advantage we need.”

Ewald thought as he turned his horse back toward his tepee camp.