>>6111138The short break had been lengthened as officers and men all returned back to their camps. The reason for this was quite simple, Blackmoore had gone to talk with Garithos in an attempt to get him to be reasonable and not do anything drastic like abandoning the campaign or trying to bog it down. And so as the meeting was adjourned till the evening, you had returned back to your camp to rest and discuss the events with your officers.
“I won’t lie to you Prince Alric, but you are going to have hundreds of men under your command and most of them probably don’t like you.” Lieutenant Beckston said to you. “Quite mercenary business, everyone having their own agendas and goals.”
“Speaking from experience?” You asked him back.
You and your officers were gathered in your tent, now the large size of it was quite useful. Malevus had brought all of you some tea and a bowl of broth for you. You needed that energy after last night's revelry.
“There’s sometimes quite strange bedfellows with whom you have to fight with when you are a mercenary.” Beckston said to you. He and his Kul Tirans had been mercenaries for some time before you hired them and they decided to stick around permanently. “You just have to make do Prince Alric.”
“Our men are staying in the camp just in case.” Captain Cromwell said.
“There are reasonable men in Regional Defenders, Captain Reginald for example. But we shouldn’t push and probe them more, I got what I wanted.” You said to them.
Cromwell, Beckston, Gravis and Radan all who were in the tent with you seemed to agree.
“But uhh… Prince Alric, what will the people call you?” Malevus asked you as she picked the empty bowl off the table. “I mean are you a general or a commander or what?”
That actually was a good question, no one had said what your official position was to be called. Were you just Prince Alric in command of this campaign or should the history books call you something else? Was it even that important?
Suddenly there was some commotion outside the tent and with little warning one of the Royal Foot Guards stepped into your tent.
“What is it?” Cromwell asked the man.
“My Prince, the Dark Irons are here. Their caravan has been spotted approaching Durnholde from the east.” The Royal Foot Guard greeted and spoke to you.
“Finally, how far are they?” You asked.
“Maybe an hour's ride away, but their caravan is a large one.” He replied.
“Quite a timing.” Lieutenant Gravis said to you.
Yes, it was. They were already several weeks late from the original schedule, but what was important was that they were now here. Whatever had slowed them down hadn’t managed to fully stop them. Or something worse hadn’t happened.
“Thank you.” You said to your guard who then left your tent. “I wonder what the others will think, an Alteraci dealing with those suspicious Dark Irons…”
Your officers didn’t reply to your musings.
“Shall I prepare the horses?” Malevus asked you. “Or will you receive them here?”
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