He met 50 men mixed with 20 humans and 30 elves, not including Hector and himself. Hector had found the bunch Vincent envisioned when he thought of tough bastards. Outsourcing seemed to be the way to go. Hector had found the time to get his hand fixed up with a few small splints to help the bones heal correctly. Vincent purchased a low-level healing potion for 200 stylish points and tossed it to Hector.

 

“Drink it, and your hand will feel better,” Vincent said.

 

Hector gave Vincent a strange look before taking the potion like a shot. Cracking sounds filled his ears as the bones of Hector’s hand reset. The elf stared at his hand before flexing it without pain.

 

“I can’t have my Lieutenant rustling cattle with a broken hand,” Vincent said.

 

“What’s the plan?” Hector asked as the group left the gate.

 

“Our first stop is west down the mountain to the valley. That’s where we should stop and make camp.” From the mountain, he saw the herd moving in the opposite direction of the city. “The herd is moving slowly; we should be able to overtake them and steer them where we want them,” Vincent said.

 

“How? I don’t understand what the plan is once we get there?” A man said.

 

Vincent pulled out his mount card from the carrying case on his hip. A moment later, his unicorn appeared. It took one look at the men standing in awe of it and turned its head away. Then it saw him and flattened its ears.

 

“Don’t be like that. I tamed you fair and square.” She snorted like she understood him. Vincent put a foot in her stirrup and mounted her. “Look at me. Do any of you want to ride instead of walking,” Vincent said.

 

“The druidesses will castrate us.” One human said.

 

Elves shouted their agreements clearly, not understanding his plan's simplicity and elegance.

 

“What will the druidesses do complain? If one tried to castrate my men, I would capture them and make them one of your wives.” Vincent said.

 

“It’s worth it; let’s snag some horses or unicorns and catch some druidesses.” One man said.

 

Hector cleared his throat. “We will not blaspheme against nature herself to rape her servants in abominable marriages. Children are starving in the street, and this may be the only way that has a shot at helping.” Hector said.

 

This wasn’t going to work. Vincent planned on it. If the lords were as dumb as, he thought, they would take the meat for themselves, growing ever fatter. Starving, desperate people were suggestible. Vincent could post fliers, hire criers, and his numbers would swell. Then he could train them by herding animals. Once he maxed out his barbarian class in the March province, he could take something like a conqueror or whatever else was available.

 

Some elves looked like they would begrudgingly go along with the plan. Vincent was more than alright with that. Begrudging acceptance was the first step toward mindless obedience. There was a crisis; the only way to solve it was to throw mud on elven traditions. He felt like such a rebel doing bad for the greater good.

 

“I don’t get why we’re making camp in the valley.” A man said.

 

“You aren’t going to become expert riders overnight or passably ride well enough to rustle cattle. In less than twenty days, the herd might be too far out to catch up without getting into the disputed lands. But if you want to risk getting eaten by harpies and lamia, be my guest.” Vincent said.

 

He had the makings of his own little gang of rough riders; this was like the Spanish-American war mixed with Lonesome Dove. In other words, Vincent was already having a blast, and his presence seemed to make the men and even his grumpy mare giddy with excitement. Empathic replication or infection was a possible power that his presence took on. There were charts to see what powers excluded him from manifesting, but that could wait until they traveled a few miles.

 

“I don’t suppose you would reconsider this course of action. What’re a few children dying in the street compared to 300 years of elven tradition?” One of the elves said.

 

Vincent thought about wringing the man’s scrawny neck on the spot.

 

“This is the new tradition, and it will last 3000 years. Nature might be your mother, but she’s a cannibal that wants to eat her children for the calories to produce more. She doesn’t care about you and won’t shed a tear when you’re worm food. She’ll be glad for the freed-up energy to make something else.” Vincent said.

 

“Sir, maybe you should keep your opinions on their goddess to yourself.” A gruff-looking man said.

 

“What do you think, Hector?” Vincent asked.

 

“No one will thank you for this, but it’s the right thing to do. Even if we are ostracized, we can ride away. It's not like the druids can catch us.” Hector said.

 

“That’s right; if we fail our mission Bronze Mountain City will be too busy eating itself to care,” Vincent said.

 

“I didn’t say that,” Hector said.

 

“Don’t be modest now. I couldn’t have said it better myself. But you do have a point. Druid pussy should be shared amongst the men when we return. I think I will raid their temples for the best-looking priestesses. What do you think of that boys?” Vincent asked.

 

“Do you really have the power to walk into a temple and leave with druidesses?” A man asked.

 

“No, you can’t have 5 save someone; the druidesses for the rest, we don’t know how many there are. Men don’t expect to have more than two. That should be more than enough for any man.” Vincent said.

 

“I don’t think the boss wants to answer our questions anymore.” One guy whispered.

 

“Sure, you can have latrine duty. You dig those ditches so the men have a place to shit. We will remember your sacrifice.” Vincent said.

 

For some reason, the men went quiet after that, so Vincent used his time to try and name his mount. “Felicity,” Vincent said, and the unicorn shook her mane and stomped her hoof.

 

Unicorns were intelligent and clearly understood Elvish.

 

“Lead us to your herd; we’re going to increase our riders.” He also planned to add three more mounts for backups. Once one got tired, he could swap out. There was also one of his challenges to consider. His unicorn stomped her foot and snorted. “That was a test, and you failed. I know they are in that direction.” Vincent said.

 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to patronize a unicorn,” Hector said.

 

“Nightmare, that sounds like a good name.” Vincent patted his horse’s neck. “After we capture your herd, I’ll give you some pills to make you stronger and faster,” Vincent said.

 

Common pills had a diminishing return. At Vincent’s current state, more common red pills gave less gains than time and exercise. At his current strength, UC pills were the way to go for red, blue, and green.

 

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