The city of Tannit brought Daveth a strange melancholic sense of homecoming as well as dull, aching bitterness.

Every return to Tannit was a mark of failure, marked with the flavor of death. The Seventh Seal had returned home again and, as usual, scarred and limping. No voices raised in triumph, no voices lifted in songs of glory and valor.

How could they? The Seventh Seal had charged into a demon’s domain with three hundred or so soldiers and dragged themselves back out with more than two thirds wrapped in burial shrouds.

The living weren’t unmarked, either. Their eyes were both hard and haunted, the nightmares they’d faced had etched themselves into their souls.

Aldric trotted out all the war banners that had been collected: The Dolemites, from when they fought at Garen’s Wall. The banner of Rust, when they’d fought with the army of Thud. The banner of the Brotherhood, from when they’d driven them out of Tiba. The tattered clothes of Sartura, from the ancient city of Ankar-Set in Bel-Arib. All of the banners of the Carrion Crows. The banner of the Fangs of the Serpent, when they’d slaughtered them in the snows of Nauders. The banner of the Claw of the Tal, and the banner from Nothulzoth the Interred from the jungles of Metzcal. The banner of the Shapers. A handful of warlord banners from Philippa. The banner from the Karstead Barony and the Angel Queen, both looted from Karstead’s hall in Philippa. The royal banner from Therannia, looted from the Obsidian Palace. Above them all flew the Banner of the Seventh Seal, a blood-red flag with seven sabers in gold.

A testament to their successes. A sign of each battle fought.

A woman from the Red Rocks and a man from the Black River company came out from Tannit to greet them.

“It’s been some time since we’ve seen the banner of the Seventh Seal.” The woman greeted pleasantly enough, but the man from the Black River was full of piss and vinegar.

“You can’t camp here. You haven’t paid the dues.” He argued.

Aldric took a long breath and let it out; Daveth simply picked the man up and carried him outside the command tent.

The man was spluttering as Daveth carried him by his gorget, the protective collar that deflected swords away from the neck.

The giant pointed at the captured banners. “Where are the signs of your triumphs, Black River? What actions have you served in? What victories have you earned?

He gave the man a vicious shake that rattled him in his armor. “Take me to your victory hall and show me the banners you’ve earned.”

The man wanted to hang his head; the Black Rivers hadn’t been anything more than glorified militia since the War of Liberation. He couldn’t, though. He represented the City of Tannit.

“Rules are rules, bastard.” He spat. “You lost your place when you didn’t pay your dues.”

He dangled a full foot and a half off the ground as he hung from the giant’s fist.

“We paid our dues.” Daveth spoke coldly, enunciating each word coldly and carefully. “I’ll tell you this once, since we’re still on friendly terms: If you think we haven’t paid our dues, you and your Red Rocks friends are cordially invited to shoulder your fucking weapons and make us leave.”

“Commander Daveth! Please! A moment of your time!” The woman from the Red Rocks Company scurried over, her armor rattling.

Daveth eyed the woman, and she seemed to flinch uncomfortably from his gaze without realizing it.

“The permit for this spot is out of date.” She muttered in a lower voice. “You need to pay to have it renewed. Please.” Her voice was nearly a whisper at the end. “Please let him down.”

Daveth turned to head back to Aldric and discovered the Anglish man was already there.

“Set ‘im down, Daveth. It’s a small price.” Aldric commanded softly. “Besides, the man’s shit his armor. He should be given the chance to clean it.” He looked to the woman.

“Merrin, right?” Aldric asked, and the woman nodded. “Good. Let’s do business.” He gestured for the woman to follow him back to the command tent.

Daveth glared at the man, but lowered his arm until the man’s feet hit the dirt. Daveth released the man’s breastplate, which bore the impressions of the giant’s fingers.

“Shoo.” Daveth whispered ominously, and the man turned and ran for the city.

Alysia came up to Daveth, who was glaring at the city that spanned both sides of the river.

“Problem, Lord Commander?”

Daveth let out a long, slow breath, and then scrubbed the side of his face. “The problem is that I got wound up too quickly again.” He muttered. “I thought I had my temper under control.”

She gave him a small smile. “Perhaps you’d like a bath? The fires are lit; we have hot water.”

Daveth gave her a frown. “I remember... something about how nobody was allowed to use your bathtub except you. That was one of the rules.”

She blushed a little. “Without permission, Lord Commander. Lynnabel is seeing to the disposition of the Tross right now, and...” She trailed off. “There is also lamb, if you’re hungry.”

Daveth stared at her quizzically. Was she ...flirting with him? Offering him the use of her bath? Her food? Surely she’d gone insane. Or maybe it was a prelude to an ambush. The Wolf Sisters had said they were improving their tactics to use against him.

Still, a hot bath and a hot meal would be a treat.

“Lead on, Alysia.”

*****

Lynnabel entered the tent she shared with Alysia and immediately stopped in the entryway.

“Alysia, are you here?” she called, and her sister popped up from the small table they shared.

“Yes, I’m here.” She remarked with a small frown. “It’s strange to me that you should ask.”

Lynnabel took a small breath and let it out. “It’s strange to me that you should say that, with his smell everywhere.” She glanced around the small tent. “While it brings me happiness that you’ve finally gotten what you wanted...” she paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, “His smell is everywhere.”

Alysia shook her head. “I didn’t... get what I wanted.” She admitted reluctantly. “We ate together and I prepared him a bath, since we had hot water, and I thought he’d appreciate it.”

Lynnabel approached the tub and her nose wrinkled. “Please do us both a favor and wash the tub!” She complained. “I cannot bathe in such a thing!”

Alysia rolled her eyes. “Should I say the same things when you come to our tent reeking of him?” She challenged, and Lynnabel smiled.

“I, at least, have the courtesy to attend to my business in his tent, and not ours.” She switched tracks. “Why will you not pursue him? It has been some time since he has had a partner, and he is familiar with our kind. I can’t imagine him refusing you.”

Alysia shook her head. “He has to remember.”

Lynnabel blinked a few times in confusion. “Remember what, sister?”

Alysia shook her head. “You needn’t know. If he remembers, I will welcome him. If he doesn’t, then...” She shook her head.

Lynnabel thought for a moment and her eyes narrowed in recollection. “You’re talking about when he was drunk in Nauders?”

Alysia’s face immediately soured. “You really are like them, all chattering away, thirsty for juicy gossip.”

Lynnabel laughed at that. “Humans have a hard time remembering things when they’re drunk. Perhaps if you gave him a hint?”

Alysia shook her head. “I have given him all the hints he needs. I cannot give more. My pride and honor as a Sister of the Wolf demands I give nothing more.” She stated flatly.

Lynnabel’s mouth twisted. Honor and pride were one thing, but Alysia was simply being stubborn.

“Wash the tub, dear sister. I cannot bathe in it as it stands.” She stated firmly.

*****

Daveth strode into the command tent, luxuriating in the feeling of being clean. It wasn’t often that the Seventh Seal got to bathe when on maneuvers, with the exception of the Wolf Sisters, who paid a premium for the extra water usage.

“Ah, Commander. Just the man I wanted to see.” Aldric spoke up from the table. Malacath was there, pinching his nose and blinking exaggeratedly. The air pressure here was different than it was in Therannia, and he was having trouble adjusting.

“Stow it, Aldric.” Daveth began, and leaned a little on the table. “I’m taking you up on your offer.”

Aldric blinked a couple of times. “You’ll have to refresh my memory on which offer I extended.”

“Leave.” Daveth replied. He paused and folded his massive arms across his chest. “Audra’s family deserve to know how she died.”

Aldric frowned pensively. “Are you punishing yourself?”

Daveth shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“How long will you need?” Aldric asked.

“Four months or so. That’s how long it took for her to get there and back.” Daveth replied simply. “Should be long enough for you to drill into Malacath what we look for in potential recruits.”

Aldric laughed dryly at this. “I was going to have you do it, actually. But you need the rest. You’re at the brink of burnout.”

“We all are. Therannia took a lot out of us.” Daveth remarked, and then added, “And it was a long road home.”

Aldric nodded, and Daveth wondered at the gray in his captain’s hair. When had that appeared?

“Take the time you need. Oh, and swing wide of any Anglish. I’ve heard tell- and I don’t have to tell you how- that the Anglish have reorganized their armies. Again.”

Daveth was going to offer a snide comment, but held his tongue. “See you in a few.” He replied instead.

Daveth went to his tent, rolled up his bedroll and stuffed it into his saddlebags. He considered the tent as well, but decided he wouldn’t need something that massive. He tucked a few odds and ends into the saddlebags and then slung them over his shoulder and stepped outside his tent.

He saddled up his horse along with his saddlebags and then swung into the saddle.

Alysia ran up to him. “Where are you heading?”

“On leave.” He replied, as Lynnabel caught up to her sister. “Keep things in order for me while I’m away, will you?” He gave her a distracted smile. “Thanks for the meal and bath, by the way.”

Her face went through a number of different expressions.

“I’m coming with you!” She finally exclaimed.

Daveth gave her a baffled look. “Why in Aggenmor would you do that?”

Lynnabel finally caught hold of Alysia’s shoulder and spun her around to face her. Some wordless communication flashed between them, and Lynnabel looked to Daveth.

“Order her to stay.”

Daveth lifted an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Give her a direct order to stay.” Lynnabel stated flatly while Alysia struggled in her sister’s grip. “That way, if she tries to follow I can have her punished according to the Seventh Seal’s rules.”

Daveth gave them both a bewildered look, but gave the order, and touched his heels to the flanks of his horse. As he passed, it might have been a trick of the light, but he might have seen tears in Alysia’s eyes.

*****

Aldric had two soldiers set up the table and a pair of chairs, explaining to Malacath all the time. By the False Gods, how long had it been since he had to do this himself? Years?

“We’ve put up our banner, courtesy of Daveth, so there’s no problem there. Remember, our banner is first, and it sits the highest. All the defeated foes go beneath it.” He explained to Malacath in much the same way he explained it to Daveth, so long ago.

“I am not fond of seeing Therannia’s banner listed as one of the defeated, Captain.” Malacath complained.

“Yeah well, I didn’t have time to ask the scraggly bastard where his personal banner was.” Aldric replied. He paused and then added, “But we did conquer Therannia. We invaded, we took the capital seat, and we killed the king. So it does belong there.”

He pointed at Malacath with his amber pipestem. “And you need to remind yourself that you’re not Therannian.” He took a couple of puffs on his pipe, and around the pipestem he muttered, “welcome to the family.”

He gestured for Malacath to follow as they strode across the grounds they claimed. “The tents always go there, against the river. Always. The Tross goes behind the command tent. Always. The cavalry is always stabled with the Tross. We put the archery butts across the way from the tents. Any time you see someone slacking or sassing up, you put them on the archery butts.” He rolled his eyes. “Well, you tell them to report to the sergeant. He’ll have them on the archery butts until I forget.” He stopped at the furthest end from the command tent.

“Here we put two halberds up, and lay a third across the two. Like a doorway. That’s the universal mercenary sign for ‘we’re recruiting’.” he blinked as he realized his pipe had gone out. He went through the ritual of clearing his pipe of the leavings, refilling and relighting, and puffed on it contentedly.

“All the regulars will be walking a patrol around the camp to make sure people don’t slip in or slip out with stolen things.” He did a seesaw gesture with his hand. “We often say that you don’t leave Seventh Seal unless you’re dead, but really it’s the next time we show up at Tannit. Some people leave, some people join. But once you’re in, you’re in, and you ain’t leaving until you’re dead or the next time we show up in Tannit.” Her eyed Malacath. “You getting all this, son?”

“Yes, I’m ‘getting it’.” He replied sourly. “And I’m not your son.”

“Good, because I don’t remember raising such a skinny kid.” He laughed nastily. He gestured for Malacath to follow.

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re a commander with equal status as Daveth. The only difference between the two of you is that he’s been in the Seal longer. You’ll have to make up for that handicap by learning as you go. We’re going to have a meeting at the command tent to talk about who we want to recruit, and then we’re gonna sit out here under the hot sun and the flies and we’re gonna recruit. The Quartermaster is going to do his own recruiting for the people in the Tross.” He leaned in towards Malacath and in a low whisper he added, “The man gets good women, disease free. The women know the rules, too: Children do not belong on a battlefield, so if they get pregnant, they’re fired.”

Malacath made a face at the mention of prostitutes, but curiously wondered what it would be like to couple with a human woman. He sternly reminded himself that he had a wife, but bitterly cursed when he remembered that he had a wife. Officially she was listed as ‘missing’, but he knew the painful truth.

Aldric rolled out the maps that Malacath had seen before: The continents of Rothgar, Hesperia, Silesia, Bel-Arib, Yamato, Toledo.

“Technically speaking, the Anglish own all of this.” Aldric began. “Realistically, it’s a lot less. The Anglish Empire lost a lot in the War of Liberation. They have authority in the lands they used to have- like Montesilvano and Blackwall, for example, but they no longer have the ability to enforce anything.” He paused. “Still, everything west of the Tems river here in Hesperia is directly owned by the Anglish. The cities we passed through to get here- Einsamkeit, Begierde, Tannit, -and north of us, Landeck- all have a passing loyalty to the duchy of Nauders. The city of Doran and the Tiba Peninsula are Anglish, too, but mostly in name only. The local lord -who is an asshole and needs a good ass-kicking- is nominally loyal to the Anglish, but this far out, his word is really law.”

Aldric pointed out the various regions on the maps.

“This is Nauders, and I’d like to say we have a good relationship with them, but Daveth being Daveth...” He trailed off and shrugged. “It’s up in the air as to whether or not we’ll ever be allowed back in their lands.”

Malacath gave him a confused look. “I don’t understand.”

Aldric sighed and rolled his eyes. “Daveth caused an... incident when we were on mission there, and it was only because I lobbied hard for him to not be executed that instead he spent the entire winter there in prison.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Apparently it wasn’t the only incident he caused in Nauders.” He waved his hand. “I doubt we’ll be welcomed back unless we come with Daveth’s head on a platter.”

He drew his finger across a line of mountains. “This is the Spine. Up beyond there is the Forbidden Wastes, the Land of Eternal Snow, Arborea, there’s a billion names for it, but the important thing is that nobody goes up there and lives. Ever. Or maybe they live, but they never come back to tell the tale. Basically, it’s the closest thing to the Void of Oblivion. Supposedly the Mountain of Eternal Night is there.”

Malacath blinked. “I’d heard of a Mountain of Eternal Light existed far to the south of... what you people call Rothgar,” he rolled his eyes, “but those are only fables told to children.”

Aldric’s face softened a little. “A mountain of Eternal Light, hmmm? That sounds like something worth questing for.” He shook his head. “If only I weren’t so old, I might do just that.”

Malacath chuckled. “It’s a fable, captain.”

“So’s the Mountain of Eternal Night, but it was mentioned in one of Darius Trakker’s books that he banished the Queen of Spiders there.” He wiggled his hand. “Maybe it exists. And if it does, who knows? Maybe your Mountain does too. Isn’t that a nice thought?”

Malacath nodded. “It is. Now tell me who we’re recruiting.”

“Mostly we scrape the leavings from the Anglish Army. Plenty of people to do that; the Anglish burn through their forces like cordwood in wintertime. Occasionally we pick up beastmen, sometimes elves, sometimes even Urthan.” He gestured on the map where the country of Urthan lay. “Back before Daveth became commander, we had a few Yamato join us. It’s possible we might get some again. But rather than tell you what we get, it’s better to tell you what we don’t get: No criminals. I’ll teach you the tells for that. No puffed up farmboys- or farmgirls, for that matter. They’re the first to desert, and the goal is no desertion.”

They settled in their chairs as prospective mercenaries entered through the archway they’d set up.

“...I wish Daveth were here to do this.” Aldric complained. “He was good at it.”

“He’s on leave.” Malacath replied comfortably. “How should we recruit?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, what are we missing?” Malacath pressed.

“Infantry’s a must. Cavalry is weak. Our scout files are gone. We’ve got two fucking mages. I’d like at least eighteen more mages.”

Malacath nodded.

The first man came up, and the recruiting began.