The trip upriver was uneventful, except that Alysia kept getting underfoot. Audra of course seemed to think it was all sort of some grand game. She seemed to understand what it was about, but wouldn’t let on.

In a moment of frustration, he snagged Alysia, tossed her over his shoulder, plate armor and all, and while she screamed and swore undying vengeance at him in three different languages, bundled her into his private cabin and stood in such a way that he blocked the door.

She eyed him dangerously, challengingly. It seemed as though she was sizing him up, trying to find the best way to fight him, and barring that, getting past him to the door and escaping.

“Now, we’re going to have this out, you and I.” He began irritably. “I want to know what sort of shit you’re pulling, and more importantly, why.” he finished.

“Is there a problem?” He asked, folding his arms and using his legs to keep his balance against the river’s waves.

She flashed her teeth at him in an angry snarl, but she closed her eyes, fetched a sigh that seemed to come from the tops of her boots, slumped her shoulders in defeat.

“I would like to talk with you.” She answered finally. He gestured around him. “...not here.” Alysia spat. “Not here, not like this. Not where ... everyone can see.”

“It’s just you and me here, Alysia.” He explained, baffled.

“No, it’s you, me, my sister, everyone in the Seventh Seal, that smirking Yamato captain and his crew of thugs and ruffians.” She argued flatly. “I would like a conversation between the two of us. A serious one, private, without interruption or interference.”

Daveth again gestured around them. “This is about as private as it gets.” He stated realistically.

She frowned at him. “How many saw you pick me up and carry me here? How many saw you bundle me into this reeking room like a- like a piece of luggage that needed to be sorted out? How many of them are listening at the door right now?” She snarled at him.

Actually, he was pretty sure there was just one; Audra. It had become easy to sense her presence, no matter how light of foot she was.

Alysia was a stickler for rules and regulation, honor and tact and propriety and all sorts of inconvenient things that probably made her into the harridan that she was.

As far as Daveth was concerned, she needed to get laid. Or drunk. Or perhaps both at the same time. He nodded to himself. Yeah. Both at the same time. Otherwise she’d likely tear the face off whomever she was paired with and eat it.

“Will you at least tell me what this is about?” He asked hopefully.

She rolled her eyes at him. “If you were a proper Lord, you’d understand.” She spat. “Will you let me pass?”

Daveth twitched an eyebrow. “Well, at least you finally recognize that I’m not a lord.” He agreed, and stood aside. She marched past him, head high, not looking at him.

Tannit, at least, had not changed in the slightest since the last time they were here. It was not recruiting season, but there were still a few bands trying to recruit. Daveth immediately spotted the Carrion Crows, a notorious band of cutthroats and savages, more bandits-for-hire than actual soldiers.

Once their camp was set up, Daveth saw to the disposition of their depleted forces while Aldric saw to the couriers that would dispatch from Tannit in search of the families of those that had fallen with their belongings and a bit of consolation money. Most of the members of the Seal were illiterate, so it stood to reason that their families were as well, but Aldric insisted on drawing up letters of condolences anyway, something Daveth thought was silly.

*****

Daveth caught Alysia and Lynnabel talking with another woman who also wore the silvered wolf’s-head armor and was torn between the idea of immediately trying to recruit her and the frustration of dealing with another of their kind. Instead, Daveth spent some time conversing with the quartermaster, who was more or less the unofficial leader of the Tross, the small but efficient legion of camp followers, and then called a staff meeting for the remaining file leaders.

“So how do you all feel about a night raid?” He began the meeting with this preamble. Morden immediately picked up on it.

“You wanna hit the Carrion Crows.” He guessed.

“They already hit us.” Daveth replied. “I aim to get our stuff back and get rid of them while we do it.”

Jonan took a hit from his flask. It wasn’t even noon and he was hitting the rotgut pretty hard. Something would have to be done about that. He wasn’t sure what had to be done or needed to be done, because they needed him, especially with the influx of new blood they were expecting.

“I say a night raid is a great idea.” He opined. “They’re bastards. Fuck ‘em.”

Audra shrugged. “I’ve no problem with it.”

Daveth eyed the two silver-eyed sisters. “Objections?” bracing himself for a barrage of lectures on matters of honor, responsibility, the proper disposition for a army, but they simply passed a glance between the two of them. Whatever communication passed between them silently, Alysia closed her eyes and looked away, a sign Daveth had learned that she refused to speak directly and would let Lynnabel deal with it. They did it often enough.

“Lord Commander, they’re criminals. They have not earned the right to be faced on the field of battle.” Lynnabel explained this slowly and patiently, as if speaking to someone far, far dumber than she expected.

Daveth blew out a long breath, and addressed the other file leaders in turn. The others were concerned about having limited numbers, but were all for a night raid.

The basics of the raid were planned out; the Crows picket lines would be raided for horses, there would be a lot of tent-slitting and throat-slashing, and then from there, the Crow’s camp followers.

One everything was taken, Daveth would secure the Crow’s banner. It wasn’t expected to be a battle, but it was one army against another; so the result would be the same- you got your asses kicked, you had to surrender your banner.

Since Aldric was away, and Daveth would be in command, it would be the first war banner that he’d earned on his own. He really, really, really wanted things to go off without a hitch, so that he could present the banner of the Carrion Crows to Aldric.

*****

The horses they stole were ill-fed, diseased, entirely too old to be used, or a combination of all of them. A fair bit of coin was found, and the captain’s strongbox revealed a wealth of precious gems and coin. The real bounty was the supplies, a relatively decent mix of good and fair. The weapons were serviceable, though some time spent at the forge would likely improve their quality.

When Daveth went into the city to report what had happened, anticipating fines and penalties, the Red Rocks Company paid him a bounty and the Black River Company refunded their fee to set up camp and recruit. The Crows were a stain on the reputation of every mercenary band, and needed to be dealt with.

Daveth was practically bouncing on his toes with repressed glee, but the grizzled veterans from the Red Rocks and Black River companies gave him warning glances. “Don’t think it’s all roses, boy. First, you’ve made yourself an enemy of the Carrion Crows. They’ll be wanting you dead.”

Daveth gave them a confused look. “We wiped them out.”

The Red Rocks commander, a one-eyed woman pushing fifty, gave him a look as if she was questioning his intelligence.

“The Carrion Crows are divided into at least six bands, usually around fifty or so in number apiece. You just took out one of them.” She paused, and then added, “Also... there’s something else.” She finished ambiguously.

A member of the Tannit City Council, tasked with dealing with the inevitable conflicts between competing mercenary bands arrived and charged Daveth a hefty fine for the assault and murder of the Crows on Tannit territory, leaving Daveth just as broke as when he started.

He began to understand Aldric’s cynicism, and had a sneaking suspicion that if the councilman had known about the chest of gems and coin, he would have appropriated that as well.

*****

Aldric greeted Daveth’s victory with a humorless snort. “Congratulations, you killed some brigands in their sleep.” followed by a clap on the back and invitation for some wine in his tent.

“We’ve got a couple of jobs.” Aldric began. “One can be done on the way to the other. Once we get our numbers back up to full strength, we should be just fine.”

Daveth reported on Jonan’s drinking, which seemed to have escalated. Aldric nodded, but waved it off. “We all have our demons to bear, Daveth. We lost more than half our fighting strength in one fight. That’ll take the punch out of anyone. Get us back up to fighting strength and give him some recruits to train. Give him time to mourn, and then dunk his head in a barrel if he doesn’t shape up. That old man’s gonna die a warrior’s death, the kind they sing up in Nauders.”

“An axe in one hand, and a pitcher of ale in the other?” Daveth offered cynically. Aldric nodded and pointed.

“That’s the one.”

“Pretty sure I saw another one of those Wolf girls lurking around.” Daveth mentioned, tucking a pile of meat, cheese, and pickles into a scoop of flatbread.

“You recruit ‘em? They’re surprisingly robust.” Aldric asked. “We could use more like them.”

“I think the two of them are talking to her.” Daveth reported, referring to “the two of them” as Alysia and Lynnabel.

“Bah. We’ll never get her that way. Those two’ll tell her off.” Aldric complained. “Not enough discipline. Not enough honor.” He griped, then let out a sigh. “Yeah, I s’pose we could do with a bit more discipline. I don’t give a whole lot of thought about honor, though.” Aldric leaned forward.

“Honor says you have to meet the bastard on equal terms. I believe...” He trailed off. “Poets and bards and nobles all talk of honor, but they don’t know the meat grinder of the battlefield.”

“Aren’t you a noble?” Daveth asked, trying to pry into the closed lid of Aldric’s past.

“Come on, if I were a noble, you think I’d fucking hang out with the likes of you fucks? Getting mud and shit on my boots?” Aldric looked offended, but there was a hint of something else in his cynicism that made Daveth wonder.

“I’ve seen nobles. Dealt with them. Even married one. It was a political thing. She wanted to avoid a political marriage that would have touched off a war. We got married, the war happened anyway, and that was all she wrote.” Aldric sipped his wine while Daveth eyed him.

“It’s fine if you don’t believe me.” Aldric replied to Daveth’s silence. “All that matters is the job. Which we’ve got two, by the way. Get our numbers up to spec so we can go do them.”

Daveth got up to leave, and Aldric stopped him with a hand on the giant’s elbow.

“Seriously, good job with the Carrion Crows. If I were here, I would have done for them myself. You did good. Keep the banner, you’ve earned it.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” Daveth replied, and reported what happened in the city.

“You fucking went into the city? You told them?” Aldric stomped around in a circle. “There are times when I think you’re a goddamned genius, Daveth, I really do. But sometimes, you’re a fucking idiot. How much they rook you for it?”

“Pretty much all of the reward money.”

“Reward money? Ah. Ahhhh. Okay. I see. The ole ‘give and take’ scheme. They lay out a bounty on a troublesome group they’d like to be rid of but can’t because of ‘reasons’, and then they charge you for the crime of getting rid of them, coincidentally taking back the money they just gave you.” Aldric replied knowingly. “I’ve been hooked by it, too. There’re ways around it; I’ll teach ‘em to you later.”

“I got a little back. And a letter-of-rights to one of the best camping spots come recruiting season.” Daveth offered Aldric the letter, who scanned its contents. “Not bad, not bad. They gave us the exact same spot we had before the Allyen Crusade.” Aldric gestured at the tent flaps. “You know the drill: Recruit up. Time’s wasting and there’s killing to be done.”

*****

Daveth called for Lynnabel as soon as he had the halberds up for recruiting. Naturally, Alysia came alongside, but Daveth told her to report to the quartermaster for inventory detail. That’d keep her out of his hair for a while.

“Why am I here, Lord Commander?” Lynnabel offered doubtfully.

“You were the reason I took you and Alysia in. You’ve been with us since we dealt with the Brotherhood, the Orgus, and the horror show of Ankar-Set.” Daveth began, as people began to mill around, eyeing the halberd doorway. “You should have a good idea of who to recruit, and who not to.”

Lynnabel eyed him curiously. “It would be perhaps more ideal if Alysia were to take my place.” She advised, and stood up.

“What? Why? That doesn’t make any sense.” Daveth argued.

“Alysia’s not very good with numbers or counting. She will not make the quartermaster happy, as she hides her inability to do things with anger. I am more literate than she is.” Lynnabel explained.

Daveth’s mouth twisted. “I think that if she were to be here, we’d just end up fighting.”

Lynnabel smiled at that. “Perhaps.”

*****

Daveth scanned the crowd, looking for the distinct mark of a soldier; their stance, the way they carried themselves. He watched how aware of their surroundings were, and their gear.

Some Anglish soldiers were in the mix; likely deserters from the so-called “Ever Victorious Army”.

The Anglish only committed its troops to fights it knew it could win, but they had the habit of depositing forts and dispositioning their troops in ways that made them very exposed to ambush. In fact, it was that very strategy that forced the Anglish on the defensive during the Eastern Marches campaign. The Anglish couldn’t completely defeat the Urthan, but they could halt their advance south towards Darnell. This forced the Urthan to march east, plucking up villages and forts and turning them into smoking rubble. The “Ever Victorious Army” was elsewhere, so the Anglish hired mercenaries to do the work they should have taken care of on their own.

*****

“That one.” He picked out a tall, black haired man. “He seems promising.”

“Thievery branding on his neck.” Alysia replied coldly. “He’s from Blackwall, or at least was there long enough to get caught twice.” Alysia explained. “First offense is a public flogging. Second attempt is a neck brand. Third offense, they take your hands.”

“We’ve done our share of such things.” Daveth disputed.

“But to other people. Not to one of our own, not to each other. Bad choice.” Alysia rebutted.

Daveth nodded in understanding. He didn’t know about the customs of countries across the Sea of Mirras. Still, she’d been icy cold towards him since they’d sat together at the recruiting table. The table itself still bore the imprints of Lynnabel’s fingers when she’d lifted it off the ground single-handedly nearly half a year prior.

“Those three, in leather?” Alysia asked.

“Farmboys. Bet you ten silver they’re farmboys.” Daveth immediately replied back.

“We don’t want those?” She asked.

“Fastest deserters. Usually after their first case of trench foot or dysentery. Also, they’re stupid, and can’t hold a line.”

She nodded curtly.

Daveth laughed, and waved the farmboys away.

“I saw another Wolf Sister today.” He mentioned. Alysia nodded. “I had meant to speak with you about her.”

“You, Lynnabel, and... even Aurene, when she was with us... have served well. I’ve no complaints in taking on more of your Order.” Daveth offered.

“High praise indeed. I’ll be certain to pass that along to the Matron of our Order.”

“Matron?” Daveth asked.

“Our leader. The strongest of us all.” Alysia explained, and selected two out of the crowd.

“Ohhh, good choice. We need archers.” Daveth praised. “Look for mages, too. They like to wear robes and appear ominous and threatening.”

“I would not recommend Annalisa into the ranks of the Seventh Seal, Lord Commander.” Alysia stated flatly. “She is ...” she searched for the right word. “Prickly. Many things that could be easily resolved with words are a threat to her honor, and thus escalates very quickly into a physical battle.”

Daveth shook his head. “Not a good choice.”

Lynnabel nodded. “Not a good choice.”

After Daveth selected a number of veterans from the Eastern Marches campaign, Alysia frowned.

“How can you do that? Pick out soldiers like that?” Alysia asked after the men made their mark.

“It’s a conditioned reflex. You watch their movements. Soldiers are trained to behave like soldiers.”

“What’s our count up to?” Daveth asked, changing the subject.

“We have enough infantry, cavalry, and archers to fill Aldric’s files. Your files need more cavalry and we need more mages, Lord Commander.”

Daveth nodded, got up and shouted for mages. While the crowd churned in response, he glanced down at Alysia.

“Why do you call me ‘Lord’, even though I’ve told you at least a thousand times that I’m not?” He asked irritably.

Alysia sighed at that. “That is not something I should speak about.” She turned to face him. “Why do you insult us the way you do?” She asked.

Daveth gave her a wary look. “I wasn’t aware I was.” He replied cautiously. At this response, Alysia sighed.

“It’s as I suspected. You’re completely oblivious.” She spat.

“I’m listening.” Daveth replied, sizing her up. She was in a position where she could cleanly draw her blade and take his head off at the shoulders if she felt like it. He was quick, but he wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Within the Order, fighting is everything. Strength is everything. Honor is everything. They all layer together. It a way, it is a form of expressing yourself.” She spoke haltingly, reluctantly. “To fight means to demonstrate your strength and honor. To show honor you fight with full strength. To show your full strength is to fight with honor.”

A variety of things went through Daveth’s head, but instead he settled with, “All right.”

Alysia’s face soured. “You still don’t understand.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Daveth replied.

“When I fight you, I show you my full strength. I want you to understand me. The strength I dedicate to your cause. The honor I place in your hands to protect. But instead of returning strength for strength, honor for honor, I am instead belittled and insulted by you.”

“How?” Daveth asked bluntly, and Alysia rolled her eyes ostentatiously. “Is it not explicitly obvious? Each time Lynnabel and I fight each other, we reaffirm our trust in each other’s strength, honor and dignity. We don’t hold back.” She glared at him hotly. “You always hold back. It is an insult. A mockery. You throw our honor in our faces.”

Daveth raised an eyebrow. There were a variety of ways he could respond to that. What should he say? Should he explain about the berserker rages he’d once been known for? Should he explain the years of brutal training he’d had to undergo before he’d learned the discipline to restrain it? How it occasionally slipped his grasp?

If I fought you seriously, you’d die. How would she respond to that? Probably some claptrap about honor.

“The last time I fought you at full strength, I very nearly killed you.” He reminded her. “You kept smacking me in the face with that shield. It cost you some bones, right?”

She nodded at that.

“When I spar with you, or anyone from the Seal, the goal is training.” He explained. “Our mock battles are a reflection of that. You might take insult with the fact that I don’t fight at full strength, but you survive the experience.” He explained carefully.

“How potent are your powers of healing?” he asked. “If I were to tear your arms off, would they grow back?”

Her eyes widened at that. “I... would not survive the experience.” She replied. “But you certainly didn’t display any restraint with Aurene when you sparred with her.” She added sulkily.

He barked a laugh. “I held back with her, too.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You held back with Aurene?” She gaped at him. He nodded.

“Is there some significance..?” He began, but she cut him off.

“There are only two people in the Order of the Wolf stronger than Aurene.” She said wonderingly. “Oribel, another Gold; and the Matron Herself.”

“Is that a quality necessary to be Matron?” He asked.

She nodded. “A Matron needs to be stronger, smarter, wiser, more cunning, and savage than any who oppose her.” She explained. “If Aurene is to be believed, then our current Matron is about five times as strong as Aurene herself, but from my own eyes she is at least ten times as strong, when you factor in her cunning, her ability at strategy, and that raw wellspring of power that seems to flow from within her.” Alysia spoke reverently, as if her Matron was some Goddess made flesh.

“Well then, I hope to never meet your Matron on the field of battle.” He offered, and she gave him a cutting look and gestured. “I think you’ve found your mages. Good day, Lord Commander.”

She got up and left the recruiting table.

*****

A man in embroidered clothes and wearing a strange contraption of wire and glass on his face approached the table. “Warmage Altus at your service.” He had a pair of dainty hunting swords at his waist and a gem dangled from a chain on his ear. “I have twelve fighting mages with me and seven apprentices.” He paused, and then added, sadness choking his voice, “We’re the remnants of the Radiant Sons.”

Daveth shot up from his seat at that. The Radiant Sons were an absurdly powerful and notoriously heroic band of mercenary mages that were known the world over. It was rumored that it had been the sole efforts of the Radiant Sons that had beaten back the Northern Avalanche when they swept down from their algid home beyond the frozen wastes across Urthan.

“What.... happened?” Daveth asked. The man made a bitter face and shook his head. “I won’t speak of it.” He stated flatly. “Not.... not yet. The wounds are fresh, you know?” He offered and held out his hand.

Daveth shook it, and nodded. “We.... had our own losses.” Daveth replied. “In the desert wastes of Bel-Arib, in the temple of Ankar-Set.”

The man’s eyes widened. “I see.” He glanced around. “I take it from your disposition that Lord Aldric met his worthy end as well?”

Daveth snorted. “He’s still kicking.” Altus put his hand on his chest in relief. “Pray tell, have you seen a woman running around? White and blonde hair? She might be masquerading as a man.”

Daveth shook his head.

“If you see her, please take her into your protection. She’s my little sister.” He added. “The Black Cards of the Anglish are hunting her.”

Daveth blinked. “The fuck’re the ‘Black Cards’? A merc group?”

Altus shook his head. “Anglish assassins. Her and I are all that remain of my family. The Anglish have been trying to stamp it out since the War of Liberation.”

Daveth took the man aside. “The Anglish Empire have been trying to kill off your family for the past three hundred years?”

Altus nodded and gave Daveth a wry smile. “We’re why the Merchant Cities aren’t Anglish cities.” He shrugged. “Our family motto has been "Fuck the Anglish" since before the War of Liberation. Doesn’t matter anyway. Please keep an eye out for her.”

*****

Captain Aldric came by and immediately stiffened at the group of mages.

“Radiant Sons?” He asked, and tugged on his beard.

Altus swept a courtly bow, and the mages behind him knelt. “Second Ring of the Radiant Sons, Altus lon Pavlenko, at your service.”

Aldric raised an eyebrow and glanced at Daveth.

“He said the Radiant Sons were wiped out.” Daveth reported. Aldric’s eyes grew wide in his angular face.

“Absolutely we’re taking them in. All of them.” Aldric decided.

“We still need-” Daveth began, but Aldric cut him off. “I don’t care. I owe Altus a blood debt. They’re in. Whatever’s missing, we’ll fill up tomorrow.”

Altus eyed Daveth. “What is it you need?”

“Cavalry.” Daveth replied. “At least twenty.”

Altus nodded. “I can have them here by tomorrow. Good men, reliable.”

That would bring the Seventh Seal over its usual count of two hundred, but apparently Aldric didn’t care.