"Fighting a war is nine parts tedium, just drills, training, marching, or waiting, and one part actually fighting for your lives. All those tales about war always skiped the tedium, and usually downplayed the brutality of the fighting too.

Got to make the heroes look heroic and all that for the audience, typical propaganda, really. Down here in the dirt, things are never as pretty as the stories told, ever." - Mildred Sobritzki, retired soldier from Posuin.

The day after the main force's arrival, the gathered army marched northwards, towards Fort Prydwen. The sight of twenty-eight thousand men and women walking in neat formation was an intimidating one.

Due to the size of their army, only the main road between Fort Ascher and Fort Prydwen was truly suitable for their use. Even so, scouts - both from the dwarves and the mercenaries - spread out far and wide, just in case there were other unpleasant surprises waiting for them along the way.

Nearly one sixth of the people who had survived amongst the Free Lances were part of their scout contingent. Partly because they were not the best fighters, and many of them had been amongst the injured carried back by the second company. Partly because they were all excellent at moving fast and undetected.

Hannah had taken to the air once again, at an even greater height than usual this time, as she kept watch from above. Nicole and her aunt Dacia has each led a group of twenty four scouts each as they prowled the left flank of the army.

Lili and Rózsa, the half-elven twins, had taken the guise of large wildcats and prowled even further afield. Everybody was on high alert, completely unwilling to be the victim of another ambush.

In contrast to the mercenary scouts, the dwarven scouts were not as silent, their stocky, wide builds being a disadvantage in the region of tightly packed trees and vegetation. Even so, the way they spread themselves in multiple rows that remained in contact with one another at all times meant they served as a workable early warning system.

There were no ambushes to be on guard for though. The assessment that they may well have depopulated tbe southern region off its peasants seemed more and more plausible as days passed, and all they saw were empty, abandoned villages.

On the fifth day after their departure, the army ran across the sites where the many detachments of the expeditionary force were ambushed. They paused their march for a day there, as the zealots had lined up the dead bodies of the expeditionary force on stakes all along the sides of the street.

Reinhardt had led half his men towards where the first company was ambushed, while Dacia led the rest to where the second company's dead lay. Despite the advanced state of decay the corpses were in, he could still recognize quite a few of them.

They worked silently, more than a few of them shedding tears as they dug graves and respectfully interned the dead bodies. It could be considered a closure of sorts, as the company had regained the assets lost in the ambush through the recent salvage - many of the zealot leaders had appropriated storage rings and equipment salvaged from their lost ones - and now finally they had put the remains to rest properly.

The mood was rather dour as they marched again the next day. Many of the dwarves seethed after they saw the dead bodies of their brethren disrespected so. To display a corpse on a stake was a shame reserved only for the greatest of sinners in their culture.

Even the Crown Prince looked like he might blow his top at any moment when he first witnessed the thousands of dwarven bodies staked on display.

Fort Prydwen was already within sight when the army camped on their eighth night of march. The Crown Prince had summoned the commanders involved to his large, but otherwise spartan tent for a quick briefing.

"We shall assault the fort tomorrow," he stated without preamble once everybody was gathered. It was the same group that convened at Fort Ascher before they left. "Your roles in the fighting to come will be as follows."

"Ebenezer, Simon, both of your cavalries are to patrol all the roads that led out from Fort Prydwen. I want no escapees… or survivors," said the Crown Prince with a grim tone. "Leopold, your heavy infantry will spearhead our assault once the engineers built the ramp."

"Understood, my Liege," replied the three dwarves as they saluted the crown prince together.

"I want ten thousand of the light infantry, as well as Graf Harscape's reserves and the mercenaries to disperse in the surrounding forests, and keep a lookout for secret routes out of the fort. They're prone to have one on a fortification this old. Any objections?"

This time his question were met with shakes of the head from the assembled people. While Reinhardt would have liked to have a bit of vengeance, he was not stupid enough to commit his remaining three hundred to assaulting a fort, a task they were decidedly ill-suited for.

"Excellent. The remaining five thousand shall act as reserves to Leopold's men. Should any of your men-" said the Crown Prince as he met first Graf Harscape, then Barnaby, then Reinhardt eye to eye. "-desire vengeance for your losses, they have my permission to be part of the reserves. Just have them report before the assault."

It was a generous offer, though not one Reinhardt was inclined to take. He doubted his people would take the offer either. As mercenaries, they were a practical, pragmatic people. Vengeance is good to have, but not such a risky one.

On the other hand, given what he knew of dwarven culture, he could see some of Barnaby's or the Graf's take up the call. He decided he should probably warn his people not to do anything regrettable when he returned from this meeting.

He did just that when the meeting was dismissed a quarter hour later.