The Second Age Year 872
Sixteenth day of the fourth month
Standing in a large, spacious tent, surrounded by a firm wooden table on which a large cloth map was spread out. Was Tharos and Rayner. The tent in which they stood would have been as wide as a normal-sized house. Joining them were several figures, some of whom Tharos had met and others he had not and did not particularly care to. They were all, including Tharos and Rayner, staring at the large, old cloth map of the surrounding area, almost transfixed in quiet contemplation. On the left of the map was the city of Chalybs, tucked into what looked like a massive, deep crater surrounded by forests and hills. On the right was the city of Ferrum, placed near a small mountain surrounded by forests and hills. The territory of both city states was almost equal in size, at roughly ninety to one hundred square miles according to this map.
The tent itself was milky white with red and gold trim and embroidered veracious flowers. It had solid wooden beams and supports to keep it upright. Inside, there were numerous pieces of furniture, including chairs, desks and bookshelves, as well as a large bed fit for a prince, which he spotted tucked away at the back of the tent behind thick curtains. Not to mention the wide arsenal of weapons and several shields, which were displayed proudly and bore symbols and colours that were unknown to him. Quintus himself stood at the end of the table, having just entered the room. This time, he was not wearing the fancy robe that he had first encountered him in, but rather loose-fitting chain mail and leather straps, with only his own sword arm to protect him. This time was different. He was clad almost head to toe in a set of black full plate armour, aside from a great helm that rested on the edge of the table near his hand. The helmet itself was shaped like a bat’s skull, and the armour looked antiquated in design. The pauldrons were rounder and more circular compared to the square and rectangular ones he had seen before. Another thing that stood out to him was how humble and modest it looked, lacking many of the ornaments he had seen in other types of Invicti armour.
Tharos watched on as Quintus stood waiting for everyone to pay attention to him. The moment they all turned their heads towards him, he quickly stabbed a knife straight through the wooden table, pinning the cloth map firmly in place. Tharos thought for a moment that the table was going to break in half. Quintus then smiled warmly at everyone before his eyes lit up and he began to speak. No one dared to interrupt him as he explained the current plan. Tharos listened. The plan was to hit all three outposts at once at night in a rapid assault. This would be split into three groups: Quintus would lead one group of several hundred men; Aghi and Asta would lead the second group; and Tharos and Rayner would lead the third group. The third group would take a few ships and assault the outpost near the river, which had a dock used by the city of Ferrum to transport goods. Aria is filled with several interconnected rivers and estuaries. These could easily be used for travel or to transport armies and goods all across Aria. As Quintus continued talking, Tharos’s mind started to wander.
A few suns and moons had passed since he had finally finished recovering from the poison that had once coursed through his veins and spread throughout his body with every heartbeat. It was a venom that had once tried and failed to corrupt and violate his body — his once sacred temple. A temple that had been brought into a state of utter disrepair and decay in these last few days and nights. Days and nights where even he, the mighty and tireless one, was brought low, like the many wicked and innocent people he had made lie flat, and like the strings of fate he had cut with ease, like one pulls reeds from the fields. He was brought low, like the many wicked and innocent people he had made lie flat, and those whose strings of fate he had cut with ease, as one would pull reeds from a field. With just a flick of his wrist and a swing of his sword, he fought either for the cause of his people and empire or for cold, hard coin for his own benefit.
However, now wasn’t the time for him to contemplate the limits of his body and current condition in the shadows of a great fortress that was once populated by savages. For where did that band of savages go, or what happened to them? No one knows, and perhaps no one even cares, for there work to be done. The only line of work that someone of his life skill set could do, the oldest trade in the book, aside from selling one body. Was the life of a mercenary. To be a man of war, and to sell your sword to the highest bidder, all for the sake of glory, fame, and coin, and for the foreseeable future, he had sold himself and his companions to the cause of the twin cities of Chalybs and Ferrum. The two rival city states, which have battled one another on and off since now, and since time in moratorium. Who and what started this conflict, he knew and cared not, and if anything, the current political situation didn’t help, but encouraged this mutual antagonism. Tharos felt that even if Aria wasn’t going to the dogs, those two cities would fight until only one was left standing, even to the detriment and to the profit of all those involved.
As Tharos had walked through the camp on his way to Quintus’ tent, the only light available to him was the pale blue hum from the crescent moon in the sky, and the small flickering of torchlights and campfires. For on this clear night of a crescent moon, all was still and silent in the camp of the Black flowers, that camp that was once full of life, that once roared with a grand chorus of laughter and grindstones. Was now quiet, like an old graveyard, where the only signs of life were the cries and wails of ghosts, or the pitter patter of mice and crows. They were a camp of sell swords formed by those both high and low in both life, status, and profession. From nobles and professional warriors from the kingdom of Anathos, to former vagabonds, thieves, and whores that Quintus had found and picked up from the many stone cobbled roads of Aria with his sword. Many of which had been cast adrift by the winds of fortune and change as chaos rained throughout the land of Aria. Like a raging storm. Others came to him. Being drawn to him like moths to a flame.
For in the few days he has known and interacted with the young man, who goes by the name Quintus Florianus. Tharos could only reach one conclusion about him, and one conclusion only, and it was that the young man known as Quintus Florianus was a dangerous man. Now, it wasn’t just his stature, social status, and martial prowess that made him dangerous in Tharos’ mind, no, if anything, those traits only added to his lethality. What made Quintus truly dangerous to Tharos was his charisma and charm; Quintus was the type of man who could gather armies to his banner with his mere presence and voice. One who could forge kingdoms and make or break empires on a whim, and turn people, low and high born alike, to his will with little resistance. Because for these men and women, who have pledged their swords under his banner. Quintus will, whims, and desires were now replaced with his, and were treated like they were their own. If that wasn’t what power was, then Tharos was sure what was at this point.
Because, if he was being truly honest with himself. Even he wasn’t fully immune, although he would never fully and openly admit it. Every time him and Quintus talked, often exchanging stories about jobs, in between talks about this current campaign with his various captains and inner circle.
It was during these talks that he felt like he could tell Quintus anything and everything about himself, even if he did not ask. For Quintus must have been quite the individual, that he would even consider and be tempted to spill out his deepest and darkest secrets and unravel himself before Quintus like a free flowing river, for the only other person who came close to that was Salaba with feminine wiles, for she could coax out his secrets with nothing but a smallest and sweetest of smiles, or the faintest and softest touch.
But this raised a question in Tharos’s mind: what was a man of such skill and talent — or, more accurately, a crown prince of such power — doing here? Leading a small band of mercenaries hundreds, if not thousands, of miles from his homeland to fight for what could be compared to mere table scraps? Was it simply that this warrior prince liked battle and would sate his appetite on foreign foes, or were things more complicated within the royal family and kingdom of Anathos than he had been led to believe? All he knew about the Kingdom of Anathos was that it was powerful and situated between the Great Northern Mountains and the Heartlands. It was also one of the few kingdoms in Aria with good relations with the dwarven people. He had actually planned to visit Anathos at some point, hoping to gain an audience with the local dwarven clans and access to their archives, which he thought might help him to fill in some of the gaps in his knowledge.
“So that is the plan. Are you all in agreement?” Quintus asked the group. Both Aghi and Asta raised their hands at once, looked at each other, and then made some odd gestures with their hands and fingers. Tharos watched as they counted to three and made symbols with their hands. They repeated this process several more times until Aghi seemed to have won whatever contest they were having.
“I win this time, sister!” Aghi said, smiling widely.
“I’ll get you next time, brother!” Asta said, a bitter smirk on her face.
“What is it, Aghi?” Quintus asked, looking as if he had seen this before and was just playing along.
“What about the armies of Ferrum? Surely they won’t just let us march through their territory unopposed, will they? Me and my sister would be rather disappointed if we didn’t get to test our mettle against the men of Ferrum.”
“If they did, that would ruin half the fun, wouldn’t it?” A few of the other captains chuckled at that. They stopped once Quintus raised a hand. “But to answer your question, I have intelligence that the bulk of the Ferrum army is currently preoccupied with the bulk of the Chalybs army at this monument.”
“However, what?” Asta asked, cutting off Aghi as he was about to speak.
“There is a small army that has gathered near the fort that we have been ordered to take over.”
“What are the numbers?” Volcan asked.
“Based on what Bowen has told me, the numbers are at least double, if not triple.” There was a great sigh from some of the captains, including Volcan. “When your father was your age, He never had me help him battle armies several times his own size.”
“If I were Alexandros, but I am Quintus,” he responded confidently.
This earned him another tired and worn-out sigh from Volcan. “At the rate you’re going, neither of us is going to die of old age.”
“We are all warriors, Volcan. Aren’t we all just born to die? We are all fated to die, some sooner than others.” Quintus added. “If I am going to live like a warrior prince, then I will be happy to die like one.”
“That might be true, Quintus.” Noctis spoke up. “But you shouldn’t throw your life, or ours, away in some foolhardy endeavour.”
While this exchange was going on, Rayner whispered in his ear, “The more the merrier, isn’t that right, milk drinker?”
“Not when it comes to opposing armies,” he said to Rayner in disagreement, trying to keep his voice down.
“Don’t tell me, Tharos, that you’re scared or something.” Asta said teasingly. she had been leaning in so as to eavesdrop on them from across the table.
“Didn’t you take on an entire undead horde, or was Rayner lying to us?” Aghi added, neither of them keeping their voices down.
“Several hundred undead are one thing; an entire city with thousands of men at their beck and call is another matter entirely,” he said, still trying to keep his voice down.
“Is there anything you wish to add?’ Quintus asked them both. All the other captains turned their heads and looked at them.
“Yes, are you keeping an eye on this small force, or are you going in blind?” Tharos asked him.
“I have Bowen keeping an eye on their movements. So far, they are staying close to the fort and have shown no signs of moving to intercept us.”
“Does the city of Ferrum know that we are here?”
“Well, of course they know; they came to me first. Sadly for them, the Chalybs were willing to pay us more. Isn’t that right?” Quintus said, smiling and gesturing to his captains. There were hoots and howls of laughter and cheers from inside the tent.
“However.” Quintus continued, “They don’t know that we’ve signed up with the Chalybs, although they will find out within the next few hours.”
“So we have the element of surprise.” he asked.
“To a certain extent, yes, we do.” Quintus then took a quick breath. “Taking this fact into consideration is why we are going for a night attack. Before Ferrum grows wise to us.”
“A rather prudent measure,” he commented, earning a small smile from Quintus and some of the other captains.
“So, how are the omens looking?” asked Noctis, speaking up. “Do the gods still favour us?”
“According to Minerva, this upcoming month will be a good time for battle. However.”
“However, what?” He said, raising an eyebrow on the scarred side of his face.
“She told me that after a month has passed, we are not to continue with this war. Until the next new moon.”
“So this will be a rather quick campaign, then?”
“Yes, time is of the essence. You all have your orders now.” Quintus said, gesturing to all his captains. “I suggest you take a few hours to rest and prepare. Once we start our attack, we will be doing a full march shortly afterwards. We can’t let the armies of Ferrum get the drop on us and dictate the pace of this campaign.” As he said this, several people shouted in applause while others tapped their weapons. This went on for a few more moments until Quintus raised his gauntlet. “You’re all dismissed,” he said, and with that he and Rayner left for their tent to prepare for their part in the upcoming war.
