The meeting had not been scheduled, and that alone was enough to sour Gideon Marholt's mood before the last of his captains entered the chamber.
The headquarters of the Iron Fang Mercenary Company occupied an old stone compound in the northern quarter of the Royal Capital, where hired Warriors had trained, negotiated contracts and returned from campaigns for decades.
Tonight, however, the long table normally used for planning expeditions was buried beneath reports concerning an organization barely anyone in the Capital had taken seriously a month earlier.
Gideon sat at its head, broad-shouldered and grey-haired, with the heavy build of a veteran Knight. His captains remained silent while he read.
Eventually he placed one report down and looked toward the man responsible for recruitment. "How many? And this time, I want the number of our people who registered, not the number someone thinks I would prefer to hear."
