“Stop this at once!” the Lady Sybella cracked out, her voice dry and hard with authority. She eyed Falki with a certain severity.

“Sheathe your weapons. This is a negotiation, not a prelude to a massacre.” She announced, and then pointed towards the door. “Guards, Falki, out.” She snapped. She eyed Daveth.

“You there, with the shoulders. Can you pick the table back up?”

Daveth frowned at her, but tipped the table up and over. “One of the legs’re broken, so it won’t rest even.” He replied to her.

“Daveth, you follow my orders, not hers. I’m not marching to my death because some pair of tits in a pretty dress thinks it’s a great idea. We’ll carve our way out of here if we have to and move on to Doran. There’s a certain Lord in need of a long-coming butchering, but not until we carve our fucking names in their hearts.” Aldric snapped.

Elenore and Dorothea’s jaws dropped near-synchronously at the stream of vulgarity that poured from Aldric’s mouth.

“You aren’t here because we wanted to kill you. This is not revenge.” Sybella stated flatly. She eyed Elenore. “You’re supposed to be the Duchess, Elenore! Protect the White House and explain the job!”

Elenore put her hand over her heart. “My apologies, everything happened so quickly...” She looked to Aldric. “It’s not at all our intention to send you to your deaths!” She exclaimed.

“Talking’s free, but money spends.” Aldric snapped, his voice coarse and angry. His eyes were hard as he glared at Dorothea, Sybella, and the Dutchess.

“Ah... the map.” Elenore gestured. “Can I have the servants come in?”

“No.” Daveth stated flatly.

“Ah.” she muttered, and then took a breath. “Lord Captain, Lord Commanders... We are, with our mages, currently constructing a tunnel through the Spine to the Hill of Dead Men so that we can reoccupy and rebuild the fort.”

“The Hill of Dead Men.” Daveth muttered. “It’s a stroke of luck that we opted to have the Wolf Sisters stay back at camp; else there’d be severed heads rolling about the floor about now.”

Aldric snarled silently.

“We... well, we weren’t prepared for the size of your forces. We expected two hundred, like last time. Small enough to hold the fort while the tunnel is finalized and the fort rebuilt.” She waved her hands nervously. “A thousand stands out too much.” Elenore explained nervously.

“Why not simply level the pass?” Daveth asked. “Timwaite Pass has caused generations of pain to Nauders. Use your mages for that.”

“Daveth, it’d take about ten thousand mages to block it effectively enough so that the Northern Avalanche can’t get through.” Aldric explained, and waved at Malacath, who dispelled his fireballs. “You’re basically asking them to grow a mountain where there currently is none.”

His eyes flicked to Elenore.

“How long is the job?”

“We want to be finished before the start of winter. Three months to tunnel, rebuild and prepare to fortify the fort.” She paused. “We’re not going to have good men and women of Nauders away from their homes during the winter. We’ll rebuild the fort, and fall back through the tunnel. Come spring, we’ll reopen the tunnel and secure the fort. The goal is to have it manned, secured, and fortified from spring to fall.”

Aldric’s eyelid fluttered. “Risky. Risky, and expensive. I want triple hazard for me and my men, plus the usual commission and supply lines.”

“You mean to bleed our coffers dry?” Sybella asked, her voice hot.

“You’re meaning to bleed us to death on the other side of the Spine. I think I’m being fucking reasonable.” Aldric replied. “You want us to stand at Timwaite Pass and fight the Northern Avalanche; we can do that. You want us to reopen the eastern pass on the other side of Anzeige, we can do that, too. Those are cheap. You want us to stand and hold a fort of dubious quality in the Land of Eternal Winter without reinforcements for three months- that’ll cost.”

“Fine. Payment on completion.” Sybella decided begrudgingly.

Aldric barked a laugh. “Did wits suddenly drop while we were away? Payment up front, for all the good it’ll do us.”

“That will bankrupt the country.” Lady Sybella argued hotly.

Aldric laughed dryly, the sound of bones clattering. “Lady, you knew we were poison when you picked us up.” He mocked. “Make the deal or we pull a fade. And trust me, when we pull a fade, you’ll be blacklisted. Not just the Seal, either. You think mercenaries don’t talk? I know every fucking mercenary band on the continent. No one will do a job for you. You’ll have to send people across the fucking Mirras to hire.”

“You’re bluffing.” Sybella decided firmly.

Aldric laughed mockingly again. “You haven’t heard the news, then: The Anglish are readying to make war. They’re kicking out every mercenary band from here to Darnell. You know where they’re going? Tannit. You know where we recruit? Tannit.” He pulled out his pipe and packed it full; Daveth decided to follow suit.

“The reason why I have eleven hundred troops now is because I scooped them all up from across Hesperia. I head back down to Tannit, and I can scoop up fifty thousand more.”

That was a bluff, one he hoped that Sybella wouldn’t see through. It was likely, going off what Gerald and the other mercenary leaders said, that the surviving warbands would gather in Tannit to lick their wounds across the next few months, but the likelihood of there being ten thousand, let alone fifty was about as likely as Daveth fucking the piss out of Alysia.

He pulled up a chair. “But maybe we can be civil.” He gestured. “Daveth, plant your ass in a chair and try not to break it this time. Malacath too.”

Elenore, Sybella, and Dorothea sat down on the other side of the table.

“I want at least thirty scorpions. I want the cannon we returned to you the last time we were here, with powder and shot. I want every alchemist in the country churning out alchemist’s fire- enough for five flasks per man. I currently have five teams of bombard crews. You will supply them with bombards to use. That one’s easy, just hack down five of those great fucking trees you have lurking around in your forests. I want at least thirty crossbow quarrels per man, which means I’m going to be appropriating all of your blacksmiths, apprentices, and anyone that looked at a piece of metal and a hot flame and thought that they might go good together.” He stopped. “You’re sending us into the Frozen Lands, you need to understand what that means.”

Daveth gestured. “Can you show us the map?” He asked.

“Dorothea, call a servant-” Elenore piped up, but Dorothea frowned at the other woman.

“You don’t need a servant to pick up a piece of parchment, cousin. Even I can do that much.” Dorothea chided gently, and picked up the parchment from the floor and rolled it out. She picked up the stones and put them on the map.

“So where’s this fort?” Daveth asked.

“Here.” Dorothea indicated, nestled up against the side of one of the mountains of the Spine. “Our mages are tunneling from here so that we have a clear path of resupply and reinforcement that’s completely protected from the weather and the Northern Avalanche.”

“How long will that take?” Daveth asked.

“The stone is being reshaped and fortified so that it won’t collapse. It’s slow work, but we should have it open at the fort in a protected bulkhead in two months.”

Daveth drew on the map with his fingertip silently, and then looked to Dorothea.

“Do you have a map of the whole of Nauders?” He asked gently, and she blinked at him. She’d heard every degree of sarcasm and jocularity out of him the last time he was in Nauders, but never kindness.

“I could get one for you, if you like.” She offered.

“Would you, please?” He asked, and she nodded, baffled that he would use the word ‘please’ to her.

She got up and left, with every eye except Daveth on her.

“Is there something you intend?” Sybella asked.

Daveth looked up at the severe woman. “I remember you. Alysia and I saved you last time we were here.”

She compressed her lips together.

He smiled at her. “I thought to myself, ‘Daveth, even wearing peasant’s clothes, that woman is a queen.’.” His voice was low and gentle, with a touch of awe in it.

“I respect you.” He added. “And this- it’s ambitious. I like it. But we can’t do it without help. I’d like permission to call in our reserves.”

She blinked a couple of times. “Reserves?”

He nodded. “When we left Tannit to answer your call, not everything was organized completely. We had to leave behind troops normally held as reserve forces. They’re on the other side of Landeck, getting their kit straightened out. I’d like to get your permission to allow them through Landeck, so when we make our march on Timwaite pass, we’re not undermanned. I think it’s important that we bring the whole Seventh Seal through.”

“I don’t think we can accommodate-” the Lady Sybella began, but Daveth cut her off.

“In order for this to work as planned, we need the whole Seventh Seal, don’t you?” He asked gently.

Sybella rubbed her forehead.

Aldric wanted to know what the fuck Daveth was playing at- there were no reserves. But the man was working on a bluff of his own, and a gentleman didn’t betray his comrades. A commander didn’t betray his comrades. A friend didn’t betray his comrades.

“We really should be at full strength if we intend to hold this fort.” Aldric suggested. She frowned at him, but Daveth agreed, and finally Sybella agreed. “Passage will be granted.”

Dorothea returned with a map of Nauders.

“See here-” Daveth traced his finger from Landeck, across two small towns, and directly up into Timwaite Pass. “It’s hardly an influence on Nauders at all. I’ll have this map copied- do you mind?- and sent to our reserves. All you need to do is approve it so that the entirety of the Seventh Seal can hold the fort on the other side of the Spine.”

She nodded slowly. It was quite reasonable. “I don’t know...” She muttered thickly.

“You said it yourself- for this to work, the whole of the Seventh Seal needs to be on the other side of the Spine.” Daveth murmured, and she blinked a few times. Had she said that?

“Yes...” She muttered, and then firmer, she nodded again. “Yes. For this to work properly, we need the entirety of the Seventh Seal on the other side of the Spine, to secure the fort.”

Daveth cocked an eyebrow and chuffed out a smoke ring from his pipe. “Glad we could see eye-to-eye.”

He turned to Aldric. “I need to get this map out to the camp and send the letter- as well as get the Tross and the capital talking so we can take those weapons into custody and get all the tools we need made up.” he sketched a salute and left the room.

*****

Once Daveth was back at camp, he was joined by Alysia, Lynnabel, and Morden.

“I see you still have your head attached, Lord Commander.” Alysia offered by way of greeting. Daveth chuckled.

“It was a near enough thing. If we’d’v’e brought the lot of you, there’d’ve been a lot of corpses. They popped their tops really quick.”

Morden rolled his eyes. “Someone should have taught your ass some manners.”

“I get along fine with what I got.” Daveth argued back. “Now fetch me... Gerald and ... Deepe.”

Morden raised an eyebrow, but nodded and headed off towards the camp.

“What’s the word, Lord Commander?” Lynnabel asked curiously.

Daveth smiled and reached out and ruffled the Wolf Sister’s hair. She ducked the hand and eyed him warily.

“The word is that we’ve got a job. It’s going to pay well, too. Enough for you to take three baths a day, should you choose.”

Lynnabel and Alysia traded looks and frowned up at him.

Deepe and Gerald returned with Morden.

“Okay, so this is a job for you two and you two alone. Morden, Alysia, Lynnabel, go find something to do.”

“A... clandestine mission, is it?” Lynnabel asked.

“Send me!” Alysia immediately volunteered.

“No, I need you.” He replied. She was immediately all smiles at that, so he added, “I need your sword. Now go get busy. Morden, talk to the quartermaster. We got trade rights with the capital, so get that set up.” He passed a crumpled scrap of paper to Morden. “I was never any good at writing. I hope the man can read it.”

Morden eyed the list and whistled, which caught the attention of Alysia and Lynnabel.

“Fuck off.” ordered gently, insistently, and made shooing gestures at the Wolf Sisters, who turned and headed back the way they came.

“Deepe, Gerald, I’m sending you back to Tannit.”

They immediately began spouting arguments.

“Shut up.” Daveth retorted, rolling his eyes. “You’ve got a job to do.”

“What’s the job?” Deepe asked.

“You’re a File Leader of the Seventh Seal, so your word carries weight. Gerald, you used to be part of the Crimson Sabers. I’m sending you two to Tannit to round up whatever other merc bands show up as a result of the Anglish fuckery. Tell them Aldric and the Seventh Seal are marching to Timwaite Pass and we’re getting regular commission and triple hazard for it. Tell them that if they immediately march north and call themselves the Seventh Seal, they automatically get a slice of the pie. Tell them Landeck and Nauders will let them through, so long as they don’t fuck around and march triple-time to the pass. You’ve got three weeks. If you can’t get anyone, hightail it out of there and head back here, because we’re going to be knee-deep in it.”

Gerald gave a low whistle. “Northern Avalanche, eh?”

“Actually, there’s an old Nauders fort on the other side of the pass we’re supposed to rebuild, fortify, and hold before the Avalanche catch wind of it. We’ll be spending the winter here, on this side of the pass, all warm and cozy.”

Gerald’s brows raised to his hairline. “Oh, cool.”

“Didn’t you used to shave your head?” Daveth asked. The man colored, but said nothing. “Whatever. I expect you and Deepe to be on the trail thirty minutes ago.”

Aldric showed up thirty minutes later on horseback.

“You ass. What’re you doing?” Aldric asked.

Daveth rubbed his chin. “If you’re going to be a captain, you should understand these things.” he replied cryptically, throwing one of Aldric’s lessons back at him.

“Fuck you. It’s clear you picked up on something.”

“I did. I thought it very fucking prudent to choke the pass with mercenaries.”

Aldric gave Daveth a confused look, but looked at Malacath. “Command meeting. My tent. There’ll be food, since they decided not to offer us a meal.”

In the tent, Daveth rolled meat, cheese, olives and pickles into bread and stuffed them into his mouth, chasing it with wine he gulped indifferently from a glass that looked like a toy in his hands.

“So... talk.” Aldric urged, letting his frustration show as Malacath sampled one of Daveth’s creations.

“I got a tickle.” Daveth explained. “Like you said, right? Always think they’re out to rook you. I got a tickle that they‘re aiming to rook us in some way. I don’t know how or why.”

“Guess.” Aldric demanded, folding his arms across his chest. Malacath was making faces over the food Daveth had prepared. The meat and cheese were fine, but the olives were overwhelmingly salty and the pickles were pungent and strong.

“The old woman. Lady Sybella. She’s never liked me. I look like the monsters they kill. I trashed the palace. I knocked up Elenore. Worse, I rescued her from her captors. Elenore, Dorothea, Falki, the others, they’re on the level. Sybella is the one that wants to fuck us. I don’t know how she wants to do it, or even if she will, but... I want to stack the deck overwhelmingly in our favor.”

Aldric nodded thoughtfully. “I miss my beard.” He complained irritably, stroking his chin. “Let’s assume you’re right- what did you do?”

“I sent Gerald and Deepe back to Tannit.” He explained his proposition to Aldric, who nodded thoughtfully.

“With a little forethought we could have set that up in advance.” Aldric muttered. “For good or ill we’ve gained some notoriety.” He eyed Daveth. “You really think it’s going to be that malicious?”

Daveth shrugged. “All I know is that the Seventh Seal is going to be stuck on a job in the Forbidden Wastes of Arborea for three months. We need reinforcements.”

Aldric nodded. “I’m missing the milk runs we did in Philippa more and more.”

Daveth laughed comfortably. “That was certainly an easy life. Escort merchants from one town to another. Kill some beastmen. Build fortifications. Rebuild roads. Easy living.”

Aldric nodded. “If Sybella doesn't play straight and breaks contract, you want to head back there? I’ve heard things are calming down from our Shrine Priestess friend.”

“Tempting.” Daveth replied, and held up his mammoth hands. “I have to be able to do something with these hands besides killing.”

Malacath shot Daveth a startled look, but went back to trying to eat the sandwich Daveth had prepared.

Aldric collapsed into his chair. “We could take the gold and supplies and bail. Fuck ‘em. Literally go back to Tannit, Head for Philippa.”

“We’d get blacklisted, then.” Daveth replied.

“I just want a straight soldiering job. I’m tired of having to be crafty, trying to outfox the other guy.” Aldric complained, resting his head on the table.

“I still have to talk to the Quartermaster.” Daveth offered and levered himself up from the table, gave Aldric a conciliatory pat on the back, and left the tent.

“How bad do you think they’ll fuck us?” Malacath asked after a bit.

Aldric didn’t bother lifting his head up from the table. “A lot of leaders- national leaders, that is- like to think that mercs are idiots. Or that we’ll desert at the first sign of trouble. Or that we’re bandits. I’ll be the first to admit that it’s not entirely wrong.” He lifted his head and poured wine for himself and gestured at Malacath, who nodded and passed his cup over.

“There are stupid mercenary bands that get fucked over by their employers. There are mercs that’ll pull a fade at the first sign of trouble. There are mercenaries that are literally bandits. They rob, rape and murder and take the coin from their victims. I personally allow looting, because I can’t possibly hope to afford to equip and pay for the entirety of my men. I mean, the job comes first, but it’s a thing that has to be done, sometimes.”

He drank some wine.

“But the actual mercenary warbands that have a shred of fucking dignity to their name aren’t fucking idiots. They draw the line and stand on it. We do what we’re contracted to do. Word gets out. This company is reliable. This company gets the job done.” He snorted. “This company gets the job done, but mages have a short lifespan.” He spat bitterly.

Malacath chuckled nervously at that.

“I caught some of that in Tannit. Quite a few mercenaries advised me to leave while I was still alive.”

Aldric gave Malacath a lopsided grin.

“But the grapevine works both ways. This mercenary band is known for cowardice. This mercenary band will kill, rob, and rape. This mercenary band will pull a fade at the slightest hint of trouble. This mercenary band will only do exactly what they’ve been contracted to do and no more.”

He slurped wine from his cup.

Malacath toyed with his cup and then eyed Aldric. “What are we known for? What’s our reputation?”

“We do the job, even if it means we have to go the extra mile. We’re a little choosy. I take jobs that I think are morally right- we do what we have to do because I think that we’ll leave the world a better place for doing it- If I was offered a job, defending a village of farmers or attacking a village of farmers, I would choose to defend it. Why? In my mind, it’s the right fucking thing to do.” Aldric sighed.

“Daveth is more mercenary than man. He’d stand on a line and say “How much will you pay me?” Aldric shook his head. “I grew up in the high courts of nobility. I’ve seen the armies pass over whole districts of cities and towns suffering under beastmen and mutant assaults because there was no value in sticking up for them. I decided that’s where I wanted to be. I wanted to be the gap between ‘army’ and ‘militia’.”

Aldric paused, and peered into his cup as if it held the secrets of the world.

“Several years ago- no, this needs to go back further-” He sighed. “The House of Edelweiss, the White House of Nauders think of themselves as teachers, as healers, as counselors. They don’t think of themselves as nobles or rulers. Yet they’ve led Nauders for over a thousand years. People come to them for advice, not to pay taxes.” He spat bitterly. “About four hundred years ago, the Anglish Empire shows up. “Take us to your leaders.” and then suddenly, Nauders is a Duchy, and the White House becomes nobility. But they still behave like teachers, healers, counselors. They put on the role of ‘leaders’ for the Anglsih Empire. But then the War of Liberation happens, and the Anglish Empire collectively shits itself and starts falling apart. Nauders is left alone because the Anglish are desperately trying to keep their insides from falling apart. They can’t keep their possessions from falling apart. So Nauders is left alone.”

Aldric drank from his cup and found it empty. He poured the dregs from the pitcher into his cup and took a drink.

“A few years ago, the Anglish decide to reclaim Nauders. To do so, they hire a man who used to be my best friend. He commands two thousand troops. He convinces the people of Landeck- who think of themselves as apart from Nauders because of the War of Liberation- that Nauders should belong to them. Fuck the White House and their thousand-year rule. They kidnap the Duchess of Nauders- The Lady Sybella- and use mages skilled in mind control to start riots. Why? To create a wave of ‘no confidence’ in the new Duchess, in order to get Nauders to capitulate and allow Anglish rule.” He smiled bitterly.

“A friend of mine who was living here tipped me off- The White House needs help. So, off we went. Came. Whatever. To Nauders, peddling our services. Because the White House has ruled kindly, with respect, for a thousand years. The new Duchess has an infatuation with Daveth. Now, Daveth at the time was young, dumb, and full of cum, but he follows orders well and he’s got the makings of a fine commander, so I explain to him professionalism. He agrees to stay away from the young Duchess and her little crush. We fight against the mercenaries and we win. We celebrate, and Daveth gets too drunk. Daveth is a half-giant with temper issues. He goes on a drunken rampage through the Seventh Seal camp, through the city, and into the capital. He propositions the young Duchess, who happily accepts, and sleeps with her. I go to rescue the situation. He responds by throwing a bed at me roughly the size of the Quartermaster’s wagon.”

He eyes Malacath at this. “You might think I’m exaggerating. The bed was huge, but Daveth has unbelievable, phenomenal strength. When he rages... hide.”

Aldric twirled his finger. “Ah. I got one of the Wolf Sisters, who are also unbelievably strong, to cold-cock him. Everyone calls for his head, and I wanted to let them.” He paused. “But he’s a damn good commander, and he can become so much more. So I fought and got permission to imprison him for the winter. I have my suspicions that the young Duchess fucked his brains out through the winter.” He snorted. “His cell smelled like pussy and her perfume every fucking time I visited. You think I’m too stupid to tell?”

He tried to take a drink, found his cup empty, tried to pour more, found the pitcher empty, and sighed.

“We left one step ahead of the headsman’s axe and move on to the next job. I get a letter later from my contact in Nauders saying he’s been kicked out, Daveth had gotten the Duchess pregnant, and there’s a thousand-gold crown contract out for the head of Daveth.” he pulled out his pipe and toyed with it absently.

“We did jobs. We ran into you. We came back to Tannit and found that request to come back to Nauders. Full amnesty, pardon, the works. Now this.” He sighed and looked at the elf, who had been silently listening to all of this the entire time.

“I think they mean to kill us.”