[IC] Smoke and Steel

[Tesserach]

Krasimir

* @TokyoPewPew @Dyelli Beybi

Krasimir bowed his head reverentially in response to Ariana's decision. "I shall relay Her Grace's orders to Skotinodas. We'll march south as soon as the order to move south is given."

---

Outside the Red Camp - A short time later

"It's as Skotinodasos feared." Krasimir was shaking his head when he rode back to the group of about fifty of his own men that were with them, plus two hundred or so they'd picked up who were driving the wagons that were then parked in the clearing. "They had no plans of their own, no interest in the targets we'd been scouting, no interest in liberating or recruiting those willing to fight for us, or train they already had. They hardly even listened to what we were saying. They're dead set against us."

One of the men present assisted the old soldier from his horse. The men who met him wore red cloaks thrown over their shoulders, most of them carried several firearms, bedecked in armour that clearly wasn't their own. "Pity. We finally habe orders at least?"

"We're to get ready to move south. We're gonna try and take the blacks head-on." The men around him, most of whom had either been Owned Men themselves or with Krasimir and Skotinodasos long enough they might've been.

The men present gave no real answer to that, but shared glances around at each other.

"What aboot dhese?" They gestured to the large train of captured wagons and draught horses, loaded food, supplies even some powder.

"I promised 36 wagons. Told them there were more but they didn't seem that interested." Krasimir shrugged, as he surveyed the extended wagon train, which was quite a few more wagons that thirty six. "Send them 30. We'll take the rest with us. You, take a team, head to the crossroads: make sure word gets passed to the rest of the wagons coming up behind us get diverted to the new rally point."

"We not sending dhem to dhe main camp now?"

"If they want them they can ask. We keep the powder wagon too. When we run short, they're not going to reciprocate." He turned to the man who'd helped him down. "You take the 30 wagons. Don't mess about at the camp. Drop wagons then get to blackrock ford. A couple of the boys will meet you there, we'll be moved on from the rally point by then. If you haven't heard from us by dark, disperse and head to Mt. Tamor." He turned to another of the men. "Get our runners moving. I want reports from all the locals along the route. The rest of you, get the animals watered and the new faces formed up. We move in an hour. Anyone that can't keep up gets left behind."

There were no questions, the men turned and went to their pre-appointed tasks as Krasimir lingered with a few men, receiving reports from both their scouts as well as information they'd collected from locals watching the roads, garrison forts and farms of the area.

[Pragia12]

Dimitri Halfelgan, Colonel of the “Bloody Hands of Mitteland”

The Hamlet of Vankdorf had a population of maybe over three hundred, though perhaps a third of that number had left or been taken by Voron’s forces. This was, unfortunately for the remaining population, a grave error to have granted clemency to one army before the other arrived. Women and children were lined up before the burning town center in the mitteland mud. Dimitri had been here before, a mere two years ago when they had accommodated thieves of a different sort.

Which is why they were already intimately aware of what would happen next. Though Dimitri was righteous and forgiving in his judgement that clearly those who remained retained some degree of loyalty to the crown, their unwillingness to prevent their fellow townsfolk from leaving reflected poorly on their character, and their supplies would need to be surrendered to the army of the rightful Emperor Orrian.

This was, of course, met with some resistance, and the corpses hanging from the nearby trees would serve as a reminder to those that cooler heads would survive. The bloody hand would not be without its name, after all, and the remaining townsfolk were lined up outside as the men were looting the township. The Colonel would speak plainly to them as the men walk out with foodstuffs and what little finery the townsfolk had hid from the last army to pillage their homes.

Dimitri’s voice would boom out despite its relatively high pitch “This will be your contribution to the greatest struggle of our time! The Kinslayer who claims the throne has already stolen your best men. If God smiles upon them, they will desert before we meet them in battle.” There would be some cheering from the other men behind the townsfolk.

“If you have any information on where our foes have been retreating, or any indication of their plans, we may restore some of this property to you. You would best consider that should we find any information provided false, there will be a severe cost.” Nobody would come forward, for there was nobody left who could have.

While the regiment would leave with full packs and high hearts, the storm of destruction in their wake would make it clear to many: that this war was not going to be one fought just between armies, but between peoples. So when they began marching south towards the Quinian Realms, runners would splay out before them, and in hushed words many would ask if they would be the next to fall before the Blood Red Hands of the Halfelgan.