“Though they are nineteen, they are hardly a company," Perenenda said, looking back at the stragglers trailing the wagon. "I am grateful, but they are more refugees than soldiers."

There was a mix of men and women, old and young, and two children among them. They were the less fortunate back at the Hovels, and for being poor, they did travel with a lot of belongings.

"You've taken away the only life of servitude they've known," Big Tim said. "That life under Kerati was cruel, but it gave them some sense of belonging. For some, there is nothing left for them in Nathamaket."

"And how much coin do I have left?"

"If you are still looking to hire men, I'm guessing enough for forty or so, depending on the quality," Big Tim replied. “It will pay enough to deliver you to Kienne. But you can’t find them here. There are no sellswords in your father's territory."

"My father believes it is every man's duty in Nathamaket to serve the king," she said. "That's why I want to cross over to the Masam territory to see what I can buy for my bag of gold and silver. All the sellswords congregate at the border."

"Sworn riders are what you need, my lady," Big Tim said. "Those who would ride for you until the end. You know first hand how treacherous hiring henchmen can be."

"I do," she replied. "But I also know that some just want good, honest work."

Big Tim smiled and nodded.

By caravan they had hoped to cross the border of the the Nathamaket territory in three days after setting out from the Capital of Salvasing, but the followers with all their luggage had slowed them. At first they argued with each other, not trusting each other. Perenenda had to convince them that they needed to not worry about each other stealing their things. In her mind most of the things looked like meaningless trash, but she had to remind herself that for those who had nothing, even trash had value.

It took two more days to finally cross into the Masam territory. There was no marking or border guard. The only way Perenenda knew they had crossed into the territory was the camps set up along the road with mercenaries offering their services.

Scattered encampments with tents and stations of mercenaries displaying their feats and abilities through various signs or barking by the mercenaries themselves. It was here that they set their camp down also, at the edge of the encampment.

Big Tim arranged for several meetings with the different companies. There were some that had barely seen the field of battle; those were the ones where her coin could afford the most. She turned them away. Others were impressive in different ways but asked for too much.

"It is not just numbers I need," Perenenda told Big Tim. "I need the reputation. I need an identity. I don't want people seeing me as a leader of refugees."

"There doesn't seem to be a lot of companies for hire," Big Tim noticed.

"Sol's Day is coming," Perenenda said.

"What's that?" Little Tim asked.

"Sol's Day is the last spring celebration before the early summer floods begin," Big Tim explained. "They feast in preparation of the migration to the highlands."

"Is it nearly summer already?" Little Tim asked. He pulled out his small journal and began writing notes.

"Summer begins earlier in Neredun," Big Tim explained. "The winters here are short."

Perenenda eyed Little Tim. "Most contracts that are given to companies end on Sol's Day. Many mercenaries take vacation during the rain months and return home, and resume work when the floods subside. So we will need a bit of luck to find a worthy company that will take a contract into Sol's Day. Possibly one that has no family to return to.”

“Then why are these companies selling their services now?”

“They’re looking for contracts that will begin when the flood season is over,” Perenenda said. “I remember the laborers who would come to my father’s court before Sol’s Day to line up work for their return. It’s a promise granted to them so they can set their mind at ease when they are at home, knowing work will be waiting for them.”

By the end of day they had found no suitable company. Some were willing to take a contract but would not travel until after the flood season. Others were willing to travel now but hardly resembled any type of force they wanted to bring with them to Kienne, as they appeared to be more city exiles looking for employment rather than experienced mercenaries. Perenenda sat in her tent at their camp and discussed the best options with Big Tim. She decided she would hire the those less experienced men.

Little Tim scurried toward them, his journal open. He began skimming his notes. "My lady, I might’ve found a group that you’d be interested in. I’ve been walking around, and there’s a group that’s part of one of the larger companies but I heard them arguing and their leader threatened to take his men and abandon the company."

"Why would we want someone who is willing to abandon his contract?" Big Tim asked.

"Because the leader of the company was afraid of him," Little Tim said. "And his men's bodies were covered in war markings, more so than any of the other mercenaries."

Little Tim led them toward the group and pointed out their leader. They were a rough looking bunch in sturdy but ill-matched armor. They appeared to all have had matching armor and uniforms once, but with bits replaced over time though battle. Their uniforms were red across every man, and every man also had numerous tattoos telling stories of their battles. They were packing their horses and were readying to leave.

"Are your men for hire?" Perenenda asked the leader.

Their leader had long loose hair that was dripping wet. He had a stout face and a broad nose, and a thick black beard with red tinted points that ran along his jaw from ear to ear. He wore a rawhide lamellar cuirass stitched together with red rope.

"I don't take direct contracts from clients," the man replied, eying her up and down. "I prefer the security of working under a large company. And don't you know there is no work past Sol's Day?"

"I am the daughter of King Burulgi and wife to General Sarengerel," she said.

"Aye, I know who you are," he said. "But you're not the king, are you? And you're not the Song Lord neither. And so what are you? A girl with no company of your own. Like I said, you’re a client.”

"My name will grant you security to places you haven't been," she added. "We will not be in Neredun when the floods come. I mean to go north into Kienne. Will you come with me?"

"The security I seek is not for me but for my men," he added. "I am Captain Kamfongil. Through unfortunate circumstance I have been called the Butcher. That name has carried to whomever rides with me. If you knew who I am and of the Butchers you would not be asking to hire me. Your sire would not approve."

"How many of your Butchers ride with you?" she asked.

"We are but fifty. Twenty by horse and thirty by foot. Hardly what you seek to march out of Neredun."

"Why are you and your men leaving this company?" Big Tim asked.

"That is my business," Kamfongil snapped. He eyed Perenenda. "They look to reduce the wages for my men. We want good, honest work for a fair wage."

"You call butchering good honest work?" Big Tim asked.

"We do what the company asks of us," Kamfongil replied. "We are honest to our contract. What do you know of our ways?"

"Give him our purse," Perenenda told Big Tim.

Big Tim started to protest, but bit his lip. He looked at her, and when it was clear she would not change her mind, he reached into his satchel for the purse. He tossed it to Kamfongil, who examined the number of coins.

"Good honest work is all I ask for," Perenenda said.

"And the business in Kienne?" he asked.

"General Sarengerel has moved ahead into the other kingdoms to protect the realm against our enemies," she explained. "We move to assist him in the effort to protect our kingdom. This payment is to march with me to join him. Once gathered, you will receive another payment for each campaign, for as long as your company desires, or until we learn to fail each other and go our separate ways.”

Kamfongil laughed. "And here you are, buying the service of the Butchers. I'm assuming your father isn't terribly supportive of your husband."

"Mind your tongue, sellsword," Big Tim warned.

"Mind yourself, foreigner," Kamfongil said. "I have been watching you, the way you stand, the way you study me in return. You are kind of like a cat, aren’t you? Very soft on your toes, always ready to strike. True martial artists recognize other true martial artists, and that is indeed what you are beneath that silly turban. I am deeply curious to see how well you fight."

"How curious, sir?" Big Tim asked.

"Curious enough to take this contract," Kamfongil laughed. "I will escort you to your lord husband, princess. I will admit that with my current contract void, my men are in need of employment. Besides, if there is a fight, I want this one next to me."

"Good," Perenenda said. "Your Butchers will have an opportunity to prove your own mettle soon. Big Tim, what do you know about the Helem clan?"

"I'm afraid I don't know much about it," he replied. "They are one of the Twelve Trees, loyal to your father."

"Lord Helembasil sets his title-fur in my father’s court," she explained. "Above all else, Helem is renown for their expedient agriculture, as they have developed a method to plant rice in their fields as the summer floodwaters slowly recede. There is no rival to Lord Helembasil's folk in growing grain. However they often endure raids from the Pyderi, a wandering folk that is hard for the Lord to track down."

"I remember reading about the Pyderi once," Little Tim blurted. "Back home, in my studies of the history of Kienne. The Pyderi were once indigenous people on the northern side of the Marches in Kienne. They were fishing folk but once the civil war broke out they turned to raiding the villages in the Kingshold. When the war was over, they were one of the peoples that were expelled from the kingdom, so they went south of the Marches and into Neredun.”

"I am impressed," Perendenda said.

"As am I," Big Tim added.

"Lord Helembasil has always been a dear friend to my family, though he and my father never saw eye to eye," Perenenda said. "There are ancient roots that cross between the two Trees of Helem and Burul, and so I have always called him uncle. You all serve me now, as per our contact. This is where your claim for good, honest work begins. The Butchers will help me rid my uncle of the Pyderi."