Jorak was a professional counter. All ever did since he had been young was count. Sacks of corn, potatoes, money. As a merchants son that was a given. When the pre war plundering started a couple of months ago, his father's caravan had been looted and the families fortune had been halved. They decided to stop their trade for the time being and Jorak was in turn left without work. To fill his empty time and calm his anger for the Markan bastards that constantly raided the borders he joined the freelancing spies of Antalia. The war guild gathered information and sold them to the kingdom on a regular basis.

Ever since Jorak had been stationed at a important strategic point behind the border. For weeks he had not done anything but conserve his provisions, eat what he could find in the forests and sleep outside. To be honest he was tired of it. But a few more days and his relieve would arrive. Then he could finally return and sell his gathered intelligence to the guild. Hopefully they would give out a bonus for important information too, then he would be able to finally ask for Talias hand in marriage. His father did not agree to waste money on weddings in such hard times for the family, so Jorak had to look out for himself.

The road he was stationed at was very important. Not in the military sense though. It was perfect for intelligence gathering. Six roads ran together a couple kilometers farther north, and they all split up a few hundred meters south of Joraks position. Just within his view. Every military troop movement or other supplies would go past him, be recorded and reported back to Antalian officers. And lately it was quite busy. More and more troops moved south. So far he had counted six hundred light cavalry, sixty carts of food supplies, forty carts filled to the top with arrows, cheap swords and bows and almost impossible to count numbers of infantry.

Jorak however counted them. 2.965. 72 visible mages, 1.500 of them basic infantry with meager skills. At least their uniforms indicated them to be that. But thinking about that would be senseless. He was only paid to count. Which he was really good at. Another thing Jorak was good at was traps. Magical ones. He had placed a few of his magical traps on the road too, if he was gonna leave the place, he would do so by attacking a few of those bastards!

Sadly nothing had happened for three days. Only a couple of trader’s with their carts or wagons went by, seemingly in no hurry. Jorak also counted them, even if that was most likely useless information. The boredom was much harder to bear, than a thousand man battalion he had to accurately count and write down. At least that kept him occupied. Sleeping was dangerous, at least during the day. If he missed something, that would relay wrong information. And that would be bad for the kingdom.

He used his boredom to burry. Doing so did not really help with his job, it was just a precautionary measure. If he buried himself, and used twigs and branches to hide the remaining head and arms, he was able to observe without being noticed by scouts. So far he had only once encountered a scout, but that had been on his way back into Antalia. Luckily he had been the faster runner. And luckily the guy wasn’t able to aim for shit. The thought about being shot at with a bow still freaked him out.

After decorating himself, being half buried he finally got some action. Well, something to count. A small force of rangers was heading down the road. At a distance Jorak guessed for 45, maybe 50. When they got closer he was able to count them. 47. Odd number. When they were just a couple hundred meters away, they stopped. After a brief talk they split up in all directions. Oh, shit. Scouts. Jorak remained silent and now, motionless too. Luckily not a single one came his way. Or they did and he just did not notice the silent hunters.

The thought of being discovered and then shot, all in total silence was quite frightening. But Jorak remained still. Maybe something good would come along soon. This was one of the good points of his new job. It was exciting from time to time. As a trader it was just a snoozefest. Every. Single. Day. And as expected his gut feeling proved him right. A caravan was coming.

About forty minutes later the first cart passed his position. Huge, bulky carts. About two and a half meters in height, and almost square. Very unusual design. Jorak had no idea what they had loaded. Maybe magic gear? Six guards on each side of the cart also indicated important cargo. Even stranger was the never ending stream of them. Every five vehicles a magical apprentice in robes marched up and down as well. What could be so important to transport?

Counting them was easy, since they all followed the pattern strictly. One cart, six men, every five times a mage. The carts were all cloaked by brown, thick sheets, almost more like a rug. Jorak was getting more and more intrigued. What were they transporting? This was surely worth a bonus, right? Magical tools seemed unlikely, since the Markan kingdom was not one that had Aggratit mines. Food supplies? No. There were not that many units at the border. Maybe things that held for a long period of time in advance? That would save them a lot of logistical struggle later on.

But if they transported corn or died meat in advance, that was a thing that could be attacked. If Antalia destroyed that food storage with a few rogue assassins… That would be a game changer. But Jorak had to confirm this. False information was more dangerous than no information at times. He counted 582 carts. A insane amount. Considering that every cart could fill the bellies of a few hundred men for weeks to come, their army could be insanely big. Far bigger than anyone in Antalia estimated so far.

Jorak took all his guts and waited for the last cart to drive over his trap. Then he activated it, and immediately the magical tool exploded outwards. Large tentacles trashed around, damaging the cart, first ripping off two of the wheels, then toppling it over and ripping out a part of the metal cage. Out came… a troll. Not a cave troll, like Antalia had in the southern provinces. No. A northern war troll. They were a bit bigger in size, and a possessed a lot more strength and muscles.

The huge monstrum ripped off his chains and while it was unable to free itself from the cufflinks it still did major damage among the guards that came to subdue it. Two fell victim to it’s attacks before the mage but it to sleep with ease. Jorak was speechless. 582 carts. 582 trolls. He visually imagined a charge of all these beasts while the battle took place. Fear was overcoming him. He needed to report this. Now.

Quickly he got up, just grabbing his notebook and a small bottle of water with a bit of food and left everything else. Scared out of his mind and also hyped up he started running slowly.

He would be rich!