"Ya really got to be picky with yer employers when yer a merc like me.
Most would just treat ya like an expendable worker. Their money for whatever it is they paid for.
Some are arseholes who try to make ya bleed for them then refuse to pay their dues. These types rarely get to cross people more than once, though.
Rarest of the rare would be the real nice guys. Understanding, honorable, and puts his money where his words are. Pretty sure these folks are endangered though, if not extinct." - Raoul Evreets, retired veteran mercenary, circa FP 206.
It turned out that the Graf's prediction had been pessimistic. The combined forces of the surviving regulars, the Vanguard Legion, and Barnaby's Brewers reached the fort just an hour after dinner time that night, not three hours after Reinhardt was officially made the new captain of the Free Lances.
They numbered just under four thousand, and their approach to the fort was unimpeded. Apparently the enemy patrols and those that encircled the fort got out of their way when they saw just how many people had come.
Their slower arrival was not unexpected. The regulars from Knallzog's army were primarily heavy infantrymen, same with the Brewers. In contrast, the Free Lances were more of an irregular troop, adept at raids, infiltration, and fast strikes.
Out of the just under four thousand survivors who made it to the fort, three-quarters were army regulars. Less than three thousand had made it back out of the eight thousand that went.
The Brewers survived the mess in the best condition, as over a thousand men made it back. Nearly two-thirds of their full strength. Sadly, the same could not be said of the Vanguard Legion.
Barely a hundred fifty or so ragged individuals had made it back to the fort. The legion had taken losses that made even those taken by the Free Lances pale in comparison, and even worse, some of those men and women returned alive only to find that they had lost their loved ones.
Out of the many smaller companies that comprised the Vanguard Legion, only one made it out relatively intact, with eighty of their hundred amongst the survivors. Every other company in the Legion was utterly devastated. Some had only so few survivors they could be counted on the fingers of one hand.
Reinhardt had not actually talked with the returning survivors that night, and waited until the next morning, when representatives from the survivors - and the army - gathered in the mess hall, seated around a large table with the Graf at the head.
Reinhardt was present for the Free Lances, along with Elfriede. Barnaby Gæthorl, the commander of Barnaby's Brewers, a venerable dwarf nearly as old as Hogarth, sat next to them, alongside his second-in-command, a younger dwarven female. The surviving commanders of the 1st, 2nd, 4th, and 6th regulars were also present. The commanders of the 7th regular didn't make it.
Two people came to represent the Vanguard Legion. One was a middle-aged man with dead looking eyes who looked haunted. The other was a massive bear therian matron easily half again as tall as Reinhardt, commander of the one company that survived relatively intact.
She made the bulky dwarves look like children.
"I believe everyone gathered here is aware of the situation we're in," said the Graf without preamble, his voice heavy. "First, please report the condition of your forces, so everyone knows what each of us has to offer."
"The regulars, counting the remnants of the 9th and 10th who stayed in the fort and your grace's personal guards, have three thousand five hundred and thirty-two combatants," reported the commander of the 1st regulars as he stood up with military precision. "Including the lightly wounded who could recover to fighting shape within the week, we can probably field four thousand heavy infantry. Another five hundred within a month."
The Graf nodded at the report, politely thanked the commander, then looked at the gathered mercenary leaders. They looked at each other, then both Reinhardt and the therian matron looked at Barnaby together.
"Us Brewers got nine hundred seventy we can deploy at once, add another hundred or so given a week," said the old dwarf as he read from a sheet of parchment his aide gave him. "That said, I'm afraid our skirmishers and scouts took the brunt of those ambushes. They're practically gone as a unit. Most I got left are heavy infantry as well. Got like two hundred or so of my followers volunteering fer defense work though."
"We have two hundred fifty or so left in the Free Lances, another three hundred who volunteered for defense," Reinhardt said next. "Most of our wounded are injured rather badly, so what you see is what you get for the foreseeable future."
"Yer troops are irregular, nay lad?" asked a younger female dwarf, the current commander of the 4th regulars by way of battlefield promotion.
"We are, yes. We specialize in raids and infiltration, not open warfare. Since we are lacking scouts at the moment, I can offer my services in that regard at least," he answered with a nod. He then added the last trump card his company has to offer at the moment. "Also, should we reach Zefirous, we have information on several possible routes into the city, if the information is somewhat dated."
"Hmm? Where do ya got such info, pray tell?" asked Barnaby with a curious look. The Holy Kingdom of Theodinaz was well known for how insular it was, to the point that intelligence was difficult to come by. His curiosity - and suspicion - was understandable.
"I was born there," answered Elfriede in his stead, which drew the eyes of everyone in the room except for Reinhardt. If information was hard to come by, deserters from the holy kingdom were practically unheard of. "Ran part of the underworld until I had to go, even. Can't be sure if all those old routes are still usable, but I'd bet at least some would be."
"Yer from the kingdom?" asked Barnaby with some genuine surprise evident in his voice and expression. "Begging yer pardon, but ya didn't strike me like anything I expected outta the people here. How didja even manage to get out?"
"The borders are watched, sure, and people trying to escape the kingdom get caught far more often than not," she admitted in reply. "But those measures were on the lookout for healthy adults. They didn't care as much for some barely matured, blind girl. Probably thought I'd be in some beast's belly once I strayed off the road."
"Damn, lass," said the old dwarf with some consternation. He then gave an apologetic nod to the others on the table."Sorry fer the interruption. It's yer turn, methinks."
"About that… our situation is a tad more… complicated," said the massive therian matron with a disappointed sigh as she looked at the haunted man seated beside her. "I will let him explain for himself."
"We're through. Done for. Over," said the man with a thoroughly depressed tone. His haunted eyes looked at everyone else in the room, as if in disbelief that the others were still planning to fight on. "There is no more Vanguard Legion. Too many of us are gone. Over half of our families are gone! We're over!"
"As he said," added the matron with another disappointed sigh as the man rambled on some more. "He represents pretty much everyone else who used to be part of the Legion. Many of them are even worse off."
"A couple took their own lives when they returned to nothing but dead children," added the matron with a grim tone to her voice, which brought silence to the room.
"You said everyone else," said the Graf after a while, as he zeroed on the matron's peculiar wording. "I assume your group has a different opinion, then?"
"Pretty much. We are not done. Not anywhere near," replied the matron with a more animated tone of voice. My family is small, but we know our way around battles. I have eighty-two with me. Mostly shock troopers, with a smaller contingent of skirmishers."
"Hmm… if it does not bother you, what do you think of working with the Free Lances for the meantime?" asked the Graf after he pondered for a while. "Your two groups are pretty much all the irregulars we have left, and I know the Free Lances lacked shock troops of their own."
"We are amenable to that, although we reserve the option to retreat on our own should we fall into an untenable situation," replied the matron with a nod after she thought for a moment. Then she turned to Reinhardt and offered one of her positively massive paws for a shake. "Mischka Bænfinn."
"Reinhardt Edelstein," he said as he introduced himself. The matron's handshake was very firm, but he could bear it. "This is my wife, Elfriede."
"I hope we will have a fruitful cooperation," said the matron with a nod, before they sat back down and continued the meeting.
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