Martin greeted the breaking dawn by breaking wind, loudly and persistently for a full minute before finally rolling onto his back and rubbing the sleep from his eyes with both hands. With a spluttering cough and a loud groan the old soldier slowly rose up onto his feet and started making his way around the burnt down embers of the campfire, still glowing slightly as the last of the fresh wood from the night before was turned to ash.
Some of the party were already up, sitting around chewing on whatever it was they'd found for their breakfasts, but quite a few were still tucked up safely in their beds, wrapped tightly against the morning chill. "Al'right, you maggots!" He called out at the top of his lungs, swinging his boot into one of the militia members of the Company whose bedroll just happened to be the closest at hand. "Time to get yerselves up and awake. We'll be heading out within the hour and I want this place cleared and stripped by then."
Turning away from the grumbling malcontents Martin made his way out into the bushes to make his morning ablutions before finding his way down to the small stream set a short way from the campfire. Washing himself as best as he could be bothered he strapped his armour into place and made sure his sword was securely in place before heading back to the rest of the party.
Most of the work had been done by the time he got back, the serfs and minions of the Company well versed in the art of breaking camp and already stowing what needed to be taken with them on the old wagon which served as the baggage train for the mercenary group. Stepping over to his bedroll Martin pulled it back to reveal the heavy, iron-bound chest which was the Company treasury.
"Any problems?" He asked, looking up into the tree overhanging his bed. He didn't need to check if she was there, he knew she would be hanging close this early in the day, preferring to wait until night fall to move around on her own.
"Nothing to worry yourself with." The silken voice replied, its every tone sounding like a threat to someone's life. Despite how long he'd known the girl Martin still found himself wondering at time exactly where Nighthawk had learnt to talk like that, and what horrors she'd visited on the people who lived there in the process. And he never doubted she'd been the horror in whatever wild places they may have been.
Hoisting the chest up onto his back, bracing it against his shield, Martin hobbled over to the waiting cart before lunking it down beside the sacks of food and the spare arms. Lifting himself up beside it Martin settled himself into place as he carefully watched the others preparing for the road ahead,