“Nothing like beating each other black and blue before having a flask of ale together.” - Ordren Nos Lisen, general of the Clangeddin Empire, circa 301 VA.

“They sure didn’t hold back that much,” noted Astra during the lunch break set after their exhibition match against the Free Lances. She carefully rubbed the still-painful bruise on her right arm with her left hand, wincing slightly at the pain. The exhibition match had left her with several welts and bruises on her arms and legs, at the parts not covered by her armor. To say that her opponent had a way to land her hits there was an understatement.

“You can say that again,” agreed her older brother Scipius, who still sported a black eye and broken nose from the same exhibition. He had apparently gotten the bright idea to personally fight against the daughter of the mercenaries’ captain when she came to headhunt him, and paid for the effort as the girl – Erycea – took him out within seconds. None too gently at that.

“Oh, there they are, brother,” said Astra as she noticed Erycea’s distinctive look amidst the crowd at the banquet. Both the mercenary captain and his older daughter were very easy to spot, as they belonged to therian breeds not really seen in Alcidea. Their white, spotted fur made it easy to notice them at a glance from far away. “Want to go over and say hi?”

“Might as well,” muttered Scipius under his breath. It wasn’t that he’s new to receiving drubbings in mock battles, it was just that the last time he received so bad a drubbing was the last time he engaged his mother in one. His mother was not particularly merciful either in such mock battles, and would leave Scipius with quite a few bruises as a reminder.

In contrast, Erycea was kinder as she only hit him once, though she clearly never heard or cared for the saying to spare the face when fighting.

“Hey there, you’re Scipius and Astra, right?” greeted Erycea as the siblings walked closer to the sisters. Clearly, neither of the mercenary girls ever learned about acting dainty and gentle in formal banquets like these, given how Erycea was talking between large bites of a whole roasted leg of lamb she held directly with her paws. The younger girl, Alycea, was not as exaggerated – or simply had a smaller appetite since she was not of therian heritage – when it comes to the food on her plate, but ate just as vigorously as her sister.

“Hello,” replied Astra in turn. It was quite a different feeling to meet the mercenary sisters out of the field of battle, especially the younger sister, whose rather small frame was covered with loose clothes that hid the robust physique she sported. “You two sure gave us quite a beating out there,” she commented.

“It’s just what we’re supposed to do,” replied Erycea with a shrug of her wide shoulders. The half-therian girl was taller than even Scipius, which was to be expected given how tall her father was. “Just one of the most basic feints, really,” added the girl in between large bites of meat. “Aly and uncle Arne keeps your frontline occupied, then Alvaro draws your attention, which gives me an easier time going for your commander.”

“That… Platoon, Alvaro’s I believe? It was very impressive,” admitted Scipius as he filled his plate with some cheese and fruits. Astra knew her brother and his habits. He was not in the mood for heavier foods after a thorough drubbing. “I don’t think I’ve seen many infantry units that are so disciplined and cohesive, even amongst my country’s best.”

“Maybe you can talk with him directly and tell him that, then,” said Erycea with a toothy smile. “Oy, Alvaro! Come over here!” she then yelled over the hubbub of the crowd at the banquet. Within the minute a pair of figures with dark skin that was typical of westerners – though the girl of the pair had the darkest skin Scipius had ever seen – came over.

“You called, Little Boss?” asked Njeri, who arrived one step ahead of Alvaro.

“Yeah, Alvaro, Njeri, this is Scipius, Son of the Caroman Marshals,” introduced Erycea as she pointed at Scipius. “Scipius, these are Alvaro and Njeri. They’re the ones who led that platoon you mentioned,” she continued before adding one little tidbit almost like an afterthought. “They’re formerly of the Warforged from Posuin, if you’ve heard of them.”

“Does your sister do that often?” asked Astra to Alycea on the side as she watched her brother’s jaw drop in astonishment. As part of their studies, the siblings had naturally learned of famed military units from other nations, and both had heard of the Warforged before. “How did you get a platoon full of Warforged anyway? Aren’t they supposed to be loyal to the death to their liege?”

“Unusual circumstances back at Posuin,” replied Alycea lightly. “I wasn’t actually present as I wasn’t part of the company yet at the time, but I know after a campaign against them, we got over a thousand of these Warforged as prisoners. Our employer took most of them under his wing, but some chose us instead, which led to Alvaro’s platoon.”

“I sometimes envy you mercenaries. Your units practically cherry-picked some of the best fighters in Alcidea. We can’t afford such a luxury with our armies…” noted Astra. The Caroman regular army were entirely volunteers, with some mercenary support, and as with the nature of volunteers, they couldn’t be too picky. They couldn’t afford to flunk out over half of their trainees like the Free Lances regularly did.

“Well, we can’t really match an army like yours in number either,” admitted Alycea openly. “We’re mercs, so we’re used to making use of everything we can use to our advantage on the battlefield, all the crap about a fair fight be damned,” she added. “Fair fights are for losers anyway. You got to stack up the odds to your favor as much as you can before you get into a fight.”