“Will the cycle of war, of division and reunification, ever end?” - Last words of Thenes Mod Edamos, anti-war philosopher from the Clangeddin Empire, circa 402 VA.

“Heard you be callin’ fer us, Boss-man?” asked Rubor as he parted the tent’s curtain and walked in. The large therian man almost reflexively ducked – most buildings and tents were not made with his size in mind, after all – but instead gave a pleased smile when he realized that there was plenty of room between the top of the tent opening and his head.

His good friend, Eranoz of Clan Fleetfoot, followed behind him.

The two had integrated well with the Free Lances in the half a year or so that they had been part of the company. Eranoz was a skilled rider, and quickly found assignment in Soledad’s platoon, where he quickly rose to the rank of team leader due to his horsemanship skills. Rubor on the other hand became a rare addition to Mischka’s platoon, where replacements and reinforcements were at a premium due to their demanding standards of physicality. The huge lizard therian thrived there, though, and actually looked relieved that he was no longer the biggest person around anymore.

“Yes, I did. You two were previously employed by the Southern Coalition before you joined us, were you not?” asked Reinhardt in turn. Both Rubor and Eranoz nodded, as it was no secret and their records with the guild pretty much stated it openly for anyone who wanted to know anyway. “I want to know any intelligence you two might feel relevant about them.”

“Ah, so they’re the ones coming this way, eh, Captain?” replied Eranoz, who seemed to have gotten the situation right away. Then again, Reinhardt had already given the command to pack up and prepare for departure before the meeting even convened, so it wasn’t a difficult assumption to make. “Any info on numbers? Some things we noticed while we’re there might be relevant depending on it.”

“An approximation of fifty thousand,” answered Reinhardt openly. It would be common knowledge once they departed anyway, so there was no reason for him to hide it. “They seem to be collecting more on the way here.”

“Huh. Then at least half of that number has got to conscripts from the second-classers,” noted the orc immediately.

“Second-classers?” asked Lars from the side, whose ears perked up at the mention.

“Ah, right, you got to be in the coalition to know, but the coalition’s pretty much divided into the first, second, and third class citizens these days,” explained the orc with a nod of his head. “Those who were from the original four states that formed the coalition in the first place are the first classers. Of course, nobles and knights and whatnot are the first amongst the firsts, you get the idea, I’m certain.”

“We do, yeah. Continue,” said Reinhardt with interest.

“Most of the people from the states the coalition conquered became the second class,” continued the Orcish man. “You can probably guess the details. Less privileges, subject to higher taxes, conscription, and so on. I heard some nobles and rich merchants from those places did make it to first class, but not sure if that’s a real thing or not.”

“And the third class?” asked Lars.

“That’d be pretty much anyone who openly defied the coalition, which includes any region with lots of insurgency movements after the coalition beat them,” said Eranoz. “They’re pretty much treated like pariahs, worse than slaves, in some cases. From time to time, you hear of people from there getting elevated to second class for ratting out their comrades, you get the drift.”

“So you’re saying that the force headed our way would be at least half conscripts?” said Lars as he fished for confirmation.

“‘Lest they got somebody peddlin’ miracles over there, got to be the case, Boss,” replied Rubor in turn. “We’ve been part o’ a couple of major engagements while we worked there. The first class regions only got like, twenty-five, thirty thousand troops put together, at most,” he explained. “They’ve always padded their numbers with conscripts and mercs like us, honestly.”

“We’re not the only ones to ditch ‘em back then either,” Eranoz added. “The folks up high over there had been clamoring for mercs like us to be incorporated into their armies and made citizens, or else be considered second class or worse. We saw the way the wind was blowing and chose to get out of there before we’d be forced to.”

“Hmm… Got it. Thanks to you two for the information, you can give this to Loren and get yourself a little bonus,” said Reinhardt as he tossed a pair of scrolls at the two, who grinned as they caught them in mid-air with ease. “You’re dismissed, help your respective platoons with the packing up once you got your bonus.”

“Sure thing, Boss-man,” said Rubor as he turned to leave. “Nice working with ya!”

“Oh, you’ll see just how good the call you made to leave them and join us was in a while, Rubor,” said Reinhardt with an ominous grin on his face that the leaving lizard therian man didn’t catch. “You’ll see.”

“So, we’re proceeding with the first plan, Captain?” asked Lars from the side. The Free Lances had scouted out the major routes – the most feasible places to bring large armies into Levain territory – in the past year, and had set up surprises where they could. The southern approach was the place most rife with such surprises due to its geography.

“Yes. Egil, bring your platoon to the south ahead of us. Make sure the preparations are all in place, and once you get an estimate on the enemy’s planned approach, set them up as appropriate,” commanded Reinhardt, to which Egil nodded. The goblin, like many of his kind, was skilled in setting all sorts of nasty traps and contraptions.

The surprise Reinhardt had set up in the south was much simpler in nature, but he expected to see great results from them regardless.