“General, they’re ready for you,” a young boy stated to an old man sitting at an even older looking wooden desk, who’s surface was covered in papers that were either stained with ink and word or displayed maps of the local terrain.

Hasperus looked up as the messenger delivered his message. A young, slip of a boy, barely old enough to hold a weapon let alone fight with it. He would have liked to have attributed the boy’s enlistment as a sign of the child’s loyalty to the people, or at the very least how the war was forcing the military to drastic actions of accepting anyone that they could, but more likely the boy had been either pressganged or sold off by his impoverished parents. The price of ‘volunteers’ had increased by ten copper since last he checked and there were few amongst the lower-classes who were privileged or wilful enough to be able to place their love of kin over their instinct to survive. The recent food shortages alongside the damnable winters that had been particularly harsh these past three years, making the very notion of a loving family a tragic joke.

But there was little he could do to change that, as much as he wanted to. And, he shamefully admitted to himself, even if he could, he would not, the war needed soldiers after all. And the enemy did not care how old their victims were.

“Thank you, lad,” Hasperus replied, dismissing him with a casual nod.

Hasperus sighed. Now he would have to deal with the idiots.

After tidying up what little lay upon his desk and collecting what papers he thought that he would need, he checked himself over twice before leaving. His appearance was often of little concern to himself, but he was dealing with members of this region’s high-houses, their personal guard needed to make up for the shortfall of troops needed to ensure that this operation would succeed.

‘His betters’ would have taken anything less than absolute perfection as a slight to their honour and name, their fragile egos needing to be appeased before they would even consider listening to someone that they deemed to be an inferior. Even if said inferior had the power to execute the lot of them.

Many in the military were of the opinion they should have done so ages ago. Clean the board, so to speak. But with the enemy at their doorstep, the last thing they needed was for everyone to be fighting amongst themselves.

Even when that was all the recognised families ever seemed to be doing these days, he grimaced.

Upon leaving, the brisk midnight air invigorated his senses, the smell of the nature around him resurrecting a cornucopia of nearly forgotten memories, both good and bad, as he breathed in.

The moon this night was full, its light enough to allow him and his people to see without the need for flame or magic. A small blessing on what had so far appeared to be a glorious mess in the making.

As he exited the large tent that served to shelter him during these long nights in the field, two men took up position by his side as he walked onward to his meeting, each falling in sync with him despite the inherent challenge of doing so offered by the long stride afforded him by his tall height.

The brothers Stone-Visage; Two grim-faced individuals that had served as his personal protectors for the past two decades, their loyalty to him beyond questioning. They were unrelated, but their passing resemblance to each other and their long service by his side along with their lack of had helped convinced people of their non-existent relation. As to their ‘name of reputation’, the two were dour, even by military standards, neither having ever smiled while in his presence as far as he could remember, and the two barely uttering very little except when being addressed by a superior serviceman.

There had been a third brother, but…now was not the time to be reminiscing over bad memories.

Hasperus looked off into the distance, towards a group of individuals gathered on a small rise in the terrain. The rise was not quite a hill, but it was high enough that those atop it would be able to see some way off into the distance. Just far enough to make out their designated targets.

He raised his hand to signal for them to start their preparations.

A lookout at the edge of the group jerked as he saw Hasperus’ action, mirroring it a moment later. It was beyond his sight, but as the lookout copied his signal, he knew a number of other lookouts would then mirror that action, a human chain of waving hands stretching along the army’s entire encirclement of the foreigner’s waggon train.

The method of communication was inefficient, to say the least, but the with their entire force blindsided by the sudden and idiotic orders of their illustrious leaders, he and his aides had little time to prepare for proper military preparations and had to do what they could with what they had in the little time that they were given.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a flurry of movement upon the small hillock as the group of casters set about their business. It was not for lack of military discipline that they scurried so, each of them having actively served for well over a decade, but their rapid redeployment during what was meant to be their downtime rotation had pushed an already exhausted people back to the point of breaking as they were set upon this idiotic venture.

No doubt the various other similar groups stationed along the rest of the line would be doing the same as soon as the signal reached them, he thought.

He would have promised each of his people something to make up for their hardships, but even if their current mission was met with complete success, they still had to deal with the aftermath of that damnable dust storm. And the cleanup to follow it. …and whatever consequences would inevitably result from their actions today.

He distracted himself from such worries by inspecting his destination ahead.

The colossal tent ahead of him was large enough to offer shelter to an entire regiment. And in a way, it did, the few recognised within each escorted by their own retinue of guards, servants and advisors. At least that was what they called them, though more often than not, they seemed to be more sycophants and bootlickers than people of actual use.

And it was ultimately them that he had to deal with, the people they served having long lost any semblance of self-reliance, needed to be catered to in all things lest they come close to breaking a sweat or having an actual thought.

He scowled; More at himself than anything else, giving in to his negative nature would not serve him well, not in this place, and there was so much yet to do before things could even begin.

He halted at the entrance to allow for the various servants inside to see him and then begin the standard announcements for his entrance.

As he heard the announcer speak his name, Hasperus of the House of the Seven-hills, he let himself drift off, the words following being nought but an ever-growing, ever-pointless list of titles and achievements. A list only his descendants found any value in, and even then, only so that they could sponge off the glory of his lifetime of effort rather than having to earn it themselves.

Check a man for weapons, yes; A perfectly understandable reason to delay his ingress, but having to go through these idiotic introductions every time someone entered a room just served to waste what little was left of his meagre lifespan.

One of the few things he envied of the foreigners was their ability to conduct their meetings with nothing more than a nod of the head and ‘fuckoff’, whatever that meant. Not that he would ever admit to such an envy. Especially to the fools inside the tent ahead of him.

There had certainly been enough reasons to find fault with the people from another world, but people often forgot that it was the people of this world that had brought them here, stolen them from lives of apparent luxury to wallow in a city barely able to provide them even the most basic of necessities that this world could offer let alone whatever the monster free life of their world could afford.

Still, the foreigners were often troublemakers, and while understandable, their stubborn refusal in helping the military in its effort to defend the known world from the monstrous forces beyond had not gained them any favour. Especially not with the recognised families unceasing efforts to inflame the people against them. Even going so far as to claim that not only were the foreigners hindering military efforts, they were actively helping the enemy of mankind in exchange for them being able to have first pick of the woman folk. Or the children, according to the more vulgar members of upper society.

He was not against propaganda in general, many of his people having been convinced to join solely because of it, but the only thing he found more tiresome than the uncivilised methods deployed by his betters was the number of his equals that were so willing to believe them.

Unfortunately for the foreigners, the dust storm had finally tipped the scales of politics towards such people, who in turn, pushed the military council into issuing him this idiotic mission.

He…ah, finished. And this century too, he thought sarcastically.

As the pompous introductions finally abated, he was allowed entry into the overly lavish shelter, his two guards taking up position at the opening as he addressed the assembly of recognised and their assortment of personnel.

“Gentlemen, I shan’t take much of your time, I only seek a final confirmation before we proceed with our plan of attack,” he addressed the assembly as he took up position near a crude map that, though large, was far too small to properly have been seen by the scattered high-born within the large tent.

Not that many had even bothered to look at it or him, he noted.

“Yes,” a rather portly man to Hasperus’ left, a son of the House of four Roads if he remembered correctly, regurgitating the word, no doubt thinking that whatever statement that he had to follow it with being at the very height of wit, “and what a gloriously slau…victory it shall be, no doubt.” The idiot’s sudden correction of his own words more than obviously intentional.

The concept of ‘clearing the board’ briefly crossed the front of his mind as he held back the urge to draw his weapon. Many of the people within the caravan to the south being theirs, people left destitute by the catastrophe that they had no power to stop.

But his urges for homicide were drowned out by sheer disgust as an intense round of applause issued forth from the crowd, sycophants out in full force as the other recognised issued their agreements with the fool’s comment.

As he stared at the people around him, their soft, fattened bodies jiggling with their mirth, Hasperus could not help but think of fattened livestock as the uncivil display played out, the recognised people around the tent far from being the image of the honour that they so readily stood up to defend from any slight, imagined or real.

“Good persons, please, please…let us focus on the matter at hand,” he called out, hoping for some semblance of professionalism. To their credit, the recognised did calm themselves, though not without giving him a look that fully conveyed their displeasure at having been interrupted.

He ignored them, having far more pressing concerns than the childish indignations of people unworthy of their titles or his time.

“As you should know,” he started, a hint of venom dripping from each word as his patience was nearing its end, “the foreigners are each a false transcended, their powers many and largely unpredictable.” He paused a moment in genuine surprise as various members of this laughable war council actually looked shocked at that ‘sudden’ centuries-old revelation, their uninterested eyes going round. Though whether or not they finally understood the dangers of the task ahead of them was still beyond his ability to determine.

A young man of the House by the Sea signalled for his attention. “What do you mean by mock caster?”

Hasperus tightened the muscles in his face to prevent himself from saying anything that he would regret. These people were the ruling elite, he needed their forces, and after today he would, hopefully, never have to see them ever again.

“Their false transcendence allows them the abilities of a caster of magics, all the power without the years needed to earn it. Amongst them, you will find that even their children can match a squad of combatants if underestimated. So, don’t underestimate them.”

“But casters aren’t all the same, what do these ones do?”

Well, Hasperus had to give the boy that.

“As our casters have their varieties, so to do theirs, but their powers generally seem to have a theme to them, so if you see someone wielding the elements, it is unlikely they will be capable of summoning creature to their aid, the opposite also being true. But as to the specifics of what we will face in the coming attack, we cannot say, their forces too varied and our need for urgency leaving us little time to properly acquire information.”

The boy seemed to withdraw then, actually taking the time to think on what had been said. A small bit of potential amongst the hopeless. Hasperus would have to see if he could convince him to join-up after all this was over.

“Now, as I was saying, we shall begin our assault at dawn, the intent being that we use the light of the rising sun to help obscure our casters from any reprisal from their own. Of which they have many, their false transcendence affording them all a mockery of a caster’s abilities, so expect heavy reprisal.”

That got their attention!

“Thankfully, however, their ability seems limited by some sort of ranking system, the specifics of which allude us, so these people are not without weakness. Just like the veterans of the great enemy, we deal with them with numbers. fifty for every one of theirs. Which I might add, with our forces combined, we have at least three times the worth of the troopers needed to fulfil this requirement.”

“But don’t let your guard down, that caravan of theirs just came from that city, makes the same trip thrice a year, every year, for the past twenty years, to their colony in the Wildlands, thus making the exact number of the forces that we have to deal with hard to determine.

“These people are not to be underestimated and are to be considered extremely dangerous, they have both the power and the experience in combat to properly use it. So, if you see someone dressed like a savage…no, if you see anyone casting, do not get cocky, gather your forcers and proceed as if you were dealing with one of the high casters.”

“They come around to pick-up new recruits, people from their world that haven’t managed to succeed within their city, so they seek to try their luck in the wilds. And I say this to make it clear to all of you, if you see anyone casting, treat them as a high caster no matter what magics they use. These people may not be as capable as their veterans, but they’re just as fast in unleashing their magics and their inexperience generally makes them harder to predict and far too eager to cast such magics.”

“If we aren’t lucky and the initial bombardment doesn’t take them out, the caravan’s masters will most likely hide behind these weaker casters, forcing use to burn ourselves out hacking through them before we can deal with the real threat.”

“But before any of that, we’re going to have to deal with the common people who joined them.”

“Criminals and outcasts, one and all,” someone shouted from the back.

Hasperus was about to give the fool an earful, but as no one else spoke-up, he opted to continue.

“Yes, well…after the initial bombardment from us in the north, both the east and western flanks shall then commence with their attacks, followed then by the south. With the area of effect of the caster’s bombardments magics, followed by the expected stampeded as the people of the caravan begin to flee from panic, then followed by a single charge from our cavalry line…this should, hopefully, result in the majority of our enemy being dealt with in the first stage of the offence. With luck, leaving the second and third stages with little more to do than to cleanup the shocked and disorganised remnants.”

“But again, I say, the key elements of this operation rely heavily on how the veteran foreigners respond, so hopefully we can take them out with the first volley. If not, we’ll be dealing with some very angry and very capable people.”

He looked around for some sign of the general mood of his current allies. Their general disdain for anything not having to do with them seemed to have diminished somewhat, but he could hardly expect a complete reversal in attitude in a single night.

“Finally, closest to us is some sort of waggon that we don’t really know what to make of. Extremely high-quality, possibly belonging to one of the foreigner’s version of a recognised or possibly someone of some other form of significance. Maybe a command post even. Our scouts have reported seeing the presence of a giant beetle always near its position, so at least one high-caster is related to it. It’s been included into our first attack, so should be dealt with before we have to even worry about it, but if not, we want everyone to be cautious and leave it to our specialised squads to deal with.”

Hasperus took a deep breath while rubbing his hands together. A sign of his nervousness rather than the cold, tent was more than warm enough from the multitude of fires kept and maintained by the servants. The flames being one of the causes, he had specifically ordered a no light policy going forward, but the delicate flowers that were now before him had insisted and at least have some within the confines of their expansive shelter lest they catch their death.

He had relented, of course, but only because he desperately needed their forces. Gods, he really wanted today to be over with already.

“Now, gentlemen, any questions?”