As soon as the ranks were filled and the full complement of the Seventh Seal was two hundred, Captain Aldric immediately sent them marching south to Begierde. They could have shipped out by boat, but Aldric wanted to make sure the new recruits were well broken in before their first engagement.

If they'd've asked Daveth, he would have chalked it up to Aldric's perverse sense of delight in grinding out any idealism that might remain in the new recruits... and then Daveth himself would have found some way to distribute punishment to the asker for the ostentatiously wide-eyed question.

Eight hours of aggressive marching with shouted threats of latrine duty, the stocks, and whippings if any of them so much as fell behind in the ranks to the nest of the camp followers that trailed after.

The camp-followers themselves, collectively referred to as 'the Tross', were organized as well. Aldric ran a tight crew. The quartermaster was an old campaigner who was even more grizzled and wizened than Jonan, and he understood both the value and vulnerability of the camp followers, their wagons, and their horses. Even as the Seventh Seal marched, so did the followers.

After the long hours of marching, as the sun sank lower into the sky, the Seventh Seal's Tross organized into teams to put the camp together while the file leaders shouted and encouraged the slow with a helpful boot to the backside, with weapons drills and gear maintenance until everyone was ready to drop in their tracks, every day.

It was after Aldric had them station on the east side of Begierde, outside the gates, that Aldric called another officer’s meeting.

“You finally going to tell me what the job is?” Daveth began, ducking as he entered the command tent before Aldric could say anything.

“Ha. Initiative. I like that.” Aldric replied in a sarcastic tone, and gestured at the table, where a map of the area was spread out.

“We’re heading to Doran.” Aldric continued. “We’ve got a contract with an old friend of mine. ‘Lord’ Ulric.”

Daveth picked up on the ironic twist his captain gave to the man’s title. “Lord?” He asked, and Aldric rolled his eyes.

“He paid the Anglish a good deal of money to become a landed noble.” Aldric replied with a sour expression. “As if money could buy you a noble bloodline.” He muttered under his breath, and then said louder, “He owns a number of farming, fishing, and mining villages in the Tiba Peninsula, south of Doran.”

“And what does this man want?” Daveth asked.

“Bandit detail. A mess of bandits are harassing his villages.” Aldric replied, fishing out his pipe from a pouch on his belt.

Draveth gave Aldric an irritated glance. “And why can’t he see to them himself?” He asked, and Aldric looked up at Daveth while tamping his pipe full of tobacco.

“He is. He hired us.”

“Fucking-” Daveth began, but Aldric cut him off.

“Don’t start that shit. We’re getting some good coin out of this, and we’re going to fortify his little towns and hamlets for him. Build some fences, maybe teach those farmers how to use a spear and bow.” Aldric retorted.

Daveth considered the map again, sliding it on the table. The impressions from Lynnabel’s fingers were still pressed into the wood.

“Bandits.” He said heavily.

“Yep.” Aldric replied, and lit his pipe with a lucifer. He spent a few minutes puffing away until he was comfortable with it, and then pulled it out of his mouth and gestured at the peninsula with it. “Somewhere in all that wheat there’s a whole mess of bandits. Enough to strike at several settlements simultaneously.”

"What's the value of Tiba?" Daveth asked dismissively. "There doesn't seem to be anything worth taking, here." He observed, eyeing the map.

"Breadbasket of the Anglish Empire." Aldric replied instantly. "Most cities and towns have their own fields with their own crops, but no matter what you do or where you go, be it Begierde or Darnell, somewhere along the line you're going to eat some bread, and the flour from that bread came from here."

“And what is it these bandits are doing? Slash and burn? Stealing? Murder?” Daveth asked.

Aldric shrugged. “Don’t know, yet. We’ll find out when we get to Doran.”

"Their motivation?" Daveth asked, with a frown of concentration on his troubled brow. "There can't be much coin in these places. Simple banditry? Pressuring the Anglish by starving out their food supply?"

"Don't know that yet either." Aldric replied.

Daveth toyed with the map. “Too many villages, too far away from each other. Don’t want to break up the troops only to leave them high and dry if they get attacked with no reinforcements. The Tross will be vulnerable as well.” He looked to Aldric. "No qualms from the Anglish about operating on their soil?" He asked curiously, and Aldric gave him a flat look.

"The Anglish are the Anglish. They expect the wheat to keep flowing." Aldric replied. "That's the beginning, middle, and end of their involvement, except the obvious: 'Lord' Ulric is required to pay his dues- that is, to make sure the farmers are happily farming and breeding." the man replied, toying with his straggled beard.

"Hm." Daveth muttered shortly as his eyes roved over the map.

Aldric nodded. “So? Where should we set up shop?” He asked the giant curiously.

Daveth gave him an irritated look, but tapped his finger on a hamlet that wasn’t far from the sea. “That one, there.” He decided.

Aldric peered at the map. “Andersnacht? Why there?” he asked, and Daveth shrugged.

“They’ve got some mountains between them and the sea, but that also means it controls how the bandits can come at the town. All the other villages are almost completely exposed.” he replied. “Besides, using that place as a base of operations,” he dragged his fingers out to touch the other villages, “We can practically leapfrog across the entire peninsula if we start from there.”

Adric nodded at the giant. “Reasonable. Good spot for the Tross as well. We’ll go with that, for now.”

Doran was perhaps a quarter the size of Begierde, and dedicated to the processing of all of the raw materials that came out of the small frontier farming and logging communities.

Lord Ulric was truly an ugly individual. He had a thick puckered scar that sealed one eye and ran down the left side of his face. His nose was red and shapeless, his ears were cauliflowered, and he was covered in liver spots and bulbous warts. He was a former soldier, then a mercenary, and lucked into discovering some ages-old treasure that bought him his title.

Aldric and Ulric spent a few hours in a closed conference with the man while Daveth directed the setup and deployment of the camp.

“Relax, Commander.” Jonan clapped him on one of his arms. “We’ve got this.” Daveth snarled at this, to which the grizzled campaigner laughed. “Benefits of being in the upper echelons, m’boy.” Jonan commiserated sarcastically. “Go fuck off and look too important for this menial shit while we take care of this menial shit.” he finished comfortably.

Daveth shook his head at this. “The fuck, man. You should be-”

Jonan shook his head. “I can teach these kids how to fight. To hold a line. Build a palisade. Fortify in defense, attack in strength. I can teach them how to follow orders, but...” he shrugged and spread his hands wide, “I’m no good with shit like tactics and strategy. You are.”

Daveth shook his head, but the older man shrugged at him again. “You were the one that kept us alive at Allyen. We shoulda died there, but we didn’t. We held Garen’s Wall, and that was you, too.”

“I should’ve fucking kept my damned mouth shut.” Daveth cursed.

“Yeah, but then we’d be dead.” Jonan countered, and reaching back under the back of his breastplate, tugged out a small flask and tipped it to Daveth knowingly.

Daveth snorted, took the flask and bit off a swallow. The coarse brandy seared his throat and the alcoholic fumes set fire to his sinuses. How could Jonan like the stuff?

“Any idea what’s out there?” Daveth asked, and gestured to the south.

“Farms 'n' shit." Jonan replied comfortably. "I hear in places like these pig-fucking is considered a sport.” Jonan offered, and reached for the flask. Daveth passed it back.

“Roads?” Daveth asked, and Jonan laughed.

“We'll be lucky if we get some fucking farmer’s cart tracks to follow, most likely.” He replied and swigged on the flask. “You think anyone cares about roads out here, in all this?” the seasoned veteran offered, and Daveth snagged the flask from the man.

“I think a certain bastard oughtta get his kids back in line.” Daveth suggested, and gestured to several of the men who were loafing.

"You were right about Andersnacht." Aldric confided in Daveth as they led the troops down the rutted cart track.

"Hmm?" Daveth offered in reply.

"You hit it big on a few good points. They're big enough to feed us without impoverishing themselves." Aldric ticked off one finger. "They haven't been hit at all in these raids." He ticked off another finger. "All the other villages feed into Andersnacht before going up north to Doran. Meaning we should be able to find us some witnesses." He finished by ticking off a third finger and looking up at the giant.

Daveth shrugged at that. "Any idea what we're up against?" He asked, and Aldric sighed.

"Kid's tales. A giant screeching demon that spits out smoke hot enough to cook the flesh off your bones. Sorcery strong enough to make entire houses explode. Oh, and it's as fast as a man on horseback, apparently." he replied.

Daveth gave him a look. "You think that's a kid's tale?" He offered. "I think you and I have very different ideas about what makes up a kids' tale, Aldric. You were there when I fell in that pit of drakes."

Aldric barked a laugh. "You overestimate the imagination of a handful of farmers that like to hear themselves talk." He replied, and then glanced overat Daveth. "It wasn't even a pit of drakes, man. There were only two."

"Next time, I'll fucking drag your ass down there with me. We lost thirteen men that time." Daveth threatened, and Aldric nodded.

"Deal." Aldric agreed. "But I'd like to remind you that we're dealing with bandits this time, not drakes." Aldric countered. "This 'hissing demon' is likely a bunch of bandits on horseback. Some of them might have magic. I figure a staggered formation of cavalry and archers oughtta cut them up quick enough."

"And the magic?" Daveth offered, and Aldric shrugged. " We've got Winpen, who's an actual combat mage. We'll see."

Andersnacht was a small village, with a population of just under two hundred. It was overseen by a gray-haired mayor, Danson by name, with a pot belly and a slight stoop.

It was tucked in the rolling hills that bordered the mountains between it and the Sea of Mirras, and the village itself was surrounded by strands of aspen, their distinctive white and black bark and gray-green leaves prominent.

Aldric and Daveth stood outside the village as the Tross made their way into the village proper, which was nothing more than a handful of buildings. A single inn, a general store with a smithy, several warehouses and a couple of granaries that served as repositories for the foodstuffs that eventually would be sent north to Doran.

“Don’t tell me we’re quartering our troops in there.” Daveth grumbled. “It’ll make it difficult to mobilize properly if this ‘demon’ of theirs shows up.”

Aldric glanced up at the half-giant. “You’ve got to learn to stop complaining, man. Think happy thoughts.”

Daveth glanced down at the man who was a full foot shorter than himself. “Happy thoughts.” He stated flatly.

Aldric nodded. “Happy thoughts.” He agreed, and switched tracks. “I’ll be taking this hill here. Deploy my camps behind these hills” he gestured, and then pointed across the shallow valley that lead up to Andersnacht. “I’ll have you set up on the other side.”

“And the town? This town doesn’t have a standing militia.” Daveth jerked his thumb at the hamlet. “It doesn’t even have a respectable fence.”

Aldric grew a smile. “It doesn’t have a fence, does it?”

Daveth suddenly eyed his commander, a suspicion blooming in his chest.

“It’s hot.” Daveth warned. “And humid.”

Aldric laughed nastily, and tugged on his beard. “Perfect palisade-building weather.” he replied cheerily.

He clapped Daveth on the shoulder, wished him luck, and ordered him to get started.

For a moment Daveth considered picking the smaller man up and chucking him down the hill.

Instead, he decided to deflect Aldric’s humor by passing the responsibility down the line.

He sent his infantry in the local woods, bringing down trees, and the mages they’d managed to round up moving earth, or splitting the trees into beams.

He spotted the silver wolf girls hauling a stack of roughly hewn beams on their shoulders with apparent lack of effort and shook his head. it was unbelievable how strong they were. Alysia looked to have cut her hair short, and Lynnabel had her hair woven in dozens of tiny braids.

Eirawen was driving the thick planks into the ground with a huge hammer as if she were born to the task. Daveth nodded. At this rate, the palisade would be finished quickly.

When Alldric returned that evening, he ostentatiously eyed Daveth up and down, and then barked a laugh.

“What?” Daveth asked, crossing his arms across his chest and settling his stance stubbornly.

“No bark, no twigs or leaves in your hair, no sap on your hands.” Aldric noted ostentatiously, tucking tobacco into his pipe with a practiced thumb.

“And? So?” Daveth challenged.

“Nothing.” Aldric replied casually, and shook out a lucifer match from a wooden box that went back into his tobacco pouch. He did a double take at Daveth’s glower and his grin returned.

“You had your files do the work.” Aldric accused, and Daveth nodded.

“Good.” Aldric replied. “You’re taking to your role of Commander well. You’re not supposed to do that work. I’d’ve cut your pay in half if I’d caught you out there.”

Daveth’s arms came partway undone at that, but he let it go. After all, he’d done what was expected of him.

“Now what happens?” Daveth asked.

“We advertise.” Alldric replied, snapping the match alight with a thumbnail and puffing his pipe alight.

“We what?” Daveth asked.

“Oh, we send...” Aldric trailed off in thought, “five or six cavalry teams, four or five to a team, flying the Seventh Seal’s banners to each village. Let them know we’re in the neighborhood, working for Ulric.”

“That’s stupid.” Daveth immediately replied. “It’s suicide. You’re sending them to die.” He replied flatly.

Aldric eyed him carefully. “Before I explain why I’m doing this, I’d like you to tell me why it’s suicide.”

Daveth made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “We’re barely fortified. We need the cavalry to run any interference that comes our way. Right now our only strength is that they likely don’t even know we’re here.”

“And?” Aldric asked.

“And nothing. We go telling everyone in all the villages that we’re dug in here, we lose the element of surprise.” He tipped his hand in a seesaw motion. “If the bandits have anyone with their heads on their shoulders they’ll see we’re fortified and simply raid the other undefended villages.” He paused, and then added, “and then, when we go out to rescue those villages, we get our shit pushed in and we lose Andersnacht anyway.”

“Counterpoint.” Aldric held up his hand.

“Go on.” Daveth urged, and Aldric barked a laugh at getting permission from his second in command to argue.

“You’re right on all points, except you neglected a detail. We don’t know where they are.” Aldric replied comfortably. “It’s completely possible they know we’re here already. You can’t exactly march an army into the fucking sticks and expect them to go unnoticed. Likely tongues have been wagging since we left Doran already. Rumor flies faster than magic, Daveth.” Aldric disputed.

“That doesn’t change the fact-” Daveth argued, but Aldric held up his hand and puffed on his pipe.

“Still talking, here.” Aldric warned. After he took a couple of draws on his pipe, he took it out of his mouth and pointed it at Daveth.

“What’s the best way of hunting something you can’t find?” He asked Daveth curiously.

“Hmm.” Daveth folded his arms and ducked his head in thought for a long moment.

“Two strategies come to mind: Drop a net and tighten it. Force them into a battle on your terms.” He began, and Aldric nodded.

“We did that at Allyen, and it worked. It won’t work here; everything’s too spread out. We’d get picked off piecemeal.” his captain replied in agreement. He puffed on his pipe. “And the other?” He prompted Daveth.

Daveth frowned. “Wait for them to come to us.” He replied.

“Got it in one.” Aldric replied. “Normally, bandits will go for easy targets. Merchant trains, undefended villages, and the like. It usually depends on motivation, location, and numbers.”

“They seem to have numbers.” Daveth offered. “You said they’ve been able to attack several villages in a day.”

Aldric shrugged. “Could be they have numbers. Might not be. Could be they’re just very very mobile, like us. If we wanted, we could hit several villages in one day ourselves.”

Daveth nodded at that. “Certainly.” he gestured. “You said ‘location’.” he prompted, and Aldric nodded.

“If a group of bandits have geographic superiority, they’ll take advantage.”

“Geo-what?” Daveth replied, confused.

Aldric rolled his eyes at this. “You uneducated lout.” he complained, but waved his hand. “If they know the lay of the land, they can strike, raid, and leave without a loss of life on their side.”

“Ah. Know the terrain.” Daveth acknowledged.

“Exactly. If you know a merchant train has to pass through a valley single file, you’ll know how to hit them.”

“We don’t have the lay of the land, Aldric.” Daveth replied.

“True. But we’re a tempting target.”

“A defensible village and two hundred troops is a tempting target?” Daveth offered doubtfully.

“That’s where the third part comes into play.” Aldric replied as the sun sank in the sky.

“You think they’ll be motivated to attack?” Daveth asked.

“Of course.” Aldric replied.

“Your reasoning?” Daveth asked.

“Heh. How much money do you think a village like Andersnacht has, total?”

“None to speak of.” Daveth replied immediately. “Maybe someone’s got a couple of copper tokens stashed nearby.”

“True. But if they’ve got numbers and land advantage, then we’re a pile of weapons, armor, and coin waiting to be scooped up.”

“Bait them into attacking us.” Daveth mused.

“Yep.” Aldric nodded, and then lifted one of his feet to knock out the remains of his pipe on the underside of his boots.

“Risky.” Daveth mused. “We’re not as dug in as I’d like. We’re not nearly as fortified as I’d like.”

“How much time do you think you’d need?” Aldric asked.

“Mmm. Ideally? A few months. Level out some of the ground here, push back the forests a quarter mile in every direction, replace the earthworks with stone. Turn the farmers here into pikemen.” Daveth replied seriously.

Aldric barked a laugh. “I’m sending the teams out tomorrow.”

The next day, Daveth had Winpen and the rest of the mages up at the crack of dawn, fortifying their camp.

First, the camp proper was broken down and moved out to the road. The mages churned up the earth in the little crook of a valley they’d been camped in and pounded it flat. Excess dirt was mounded for berms, and boulders were shattered into gravel that was then used to pave the road that led up the low rise to the village, creating a wide, smooth road that led directly to the village gate.

The camp was staggered so that cavalry and archers could sally from one side, the infantry from the other. Anything coming up to the village via the road would have to deal with short charges from the cavalry, who would loop back around another hillock and launch another assault while the remainder of whatever the bandits could field was dealt with by the archers. Failing that, the infantry would be the final line of defense into the village.

Daveth took his scouts and the mages into the foothills of the mountains to make sure there could be no assault from the sides or from behind the village itself. There was a tangled nest of animal trails; Daveth called his scouts together, eyed the animal trails and reminded them of the last time they’d eaten meat.

Audra had laughed at that and pulled out several coney from under her cloak. “Not so long for me, Commander.” She’d replied saucily.

Daveth strode over to her and plucked the hares from her hand. “I’m confiscating these. Get us some deer.”

She burst out into laughter, and disappeared into the forest as easily as drawing a breath.