By the time Sahara arrived at Tidewater at the head of the best century in the First Cohort, I felt tipsy. I was trying to keep a straight head, but it was spinning while Torvald laughed at my current state. The Orc general soon approached, but stopped when she saw Lagertha. The two women stared at each other, but the general saluted me, then looked at the blonde.
''It's good the prince has strong warriors around him. I still need to test you, Northman,'' she declared.
''I welcome your axe anytime,'' Lagertha responded, smirking. ''I love fighting your kind, always give the best ones.''
I chuckled. ''Sahara, this is Lagertha Ulfrgardr.''
Following that, I turned to the blonde. ''This is Sahara Veyra, my general.''
''Good to meet you, general,'' Lagertha said with a nod.
Sahara returned the greeting but suddenly grabbed my arm, catching everyone off guard. ''Ready to drink, my prince? I can smell that you've already got started.''
Torvald laughed. ''Couldn't beat me, he was close though.''
I turned to the big man who was getting an earful from Lirael thanks to the coin he spent in the tavern. I laughed before turning to Sahara. ''Lead the way, but the others will follow; they don't want to leave me alone.''
''We'll stay back,'' Selene reassured. ''I don't want to intrude.''
''No!'' Sahara suddenly said. ''You can join us, Sel, we're on the same team now.''
''What of Evangeline, Lily and Asmara?'' I questioned.
''Back at the fort,'' the green beauty revealed. ''As and Eve are helping Garrick train the recruits while Lily sneaks around like a spy.''
I laughed at that. ''Well, she's most likely getting rid of the spies the capital is sending. Those damn nobles are annoying.''
''Yes, that small woman is scary,'' Sahara giggled. ''But the training is coming along. Two thousand men and women are now ready to fight for you.''
My surprise must have been obvious, because her grin only widened. She reached into her pack and produced a folded sheet of paper. ''The Old Man told me to give you these.''
I took them and began to read. My expression shifted almost immediately. Garrick's report was brief but enough to make my breath catch. One thousand spear-men from the Eastern Wars had arrived, along with seven hundred veteran Legionnaires. All of them had come willingly, offering their blades to the Ninth.
Slowly, a smile spread across my face. This is good, maybe the battle with the bandits will be easier than I expected.
Following that, we headed toward the tavern of Sahara's choice.
***
(Bleakmarch)
''Are you sure we can beat that fat prince, boss?'' my underling asked from the doorway, his voice thick with doubt.
I turned slowly and took a long, measured draw from my Veronian pipe. The fragrant smoke rolled across my tongue as I studied the young man through half-lidded eyes. ''I am Lord Vesperian Crowe, the leader of the Black Briar Gang,'' I said, my voice low and steady. ''I have faced the Veronian Legions before and left their corpses rotting behind me. We will do it again, especially with the Black Talon Company fighting at our side.''
He shifted uncomfortably. ''Can we really trust them?''
A thin smile touched my lips. ''We don't need to trust them. Only their hatred. The prince threatens them as much as he threatens us. That makes them useful to our sponsor and us.''
Seconds later, I rose from my chair, smoke curling around my shoulders like a living cloak. ''Come. The sponsor's gift has arrived. Let's see what kind of teeth they've given us.''
I paused at the threshold, glancing back at him. ''They expect us to crush the Ninth Legion… and deliver them their prince's head.''
Following that, I led the way through the torch-lit corridors of our cliffside fortress, my underling trailing a step behind me like a nervous shadow. The crash of waves against the rocks below mixed with the low murmur of our men preparing for war. We emerged onto the upper rampart overlooking the docks just as the first ship finished tying off.
Torches and braziers flared along the stone quay, casting long, dancing shadows across the water. ''There,'' I murmured.
The infamous Kharidian Blades were already disembarking. Even from this distance, they were unmistakable. Hardened veterans in blackened plate and dark cloaks, moving with the quiet discipline of men who had sold their souls to coin and carnage long ago. Their banner, a silver talon gripping a broken crown, snapped sharply in the sea wind.
These were no mere sellswords. In Southern Aldoria, their name alone could make kings reconsider their ambitions. Behind them came something far heavier. Row after row of massive warhorses stepped down the wide gangplanks, hooves ringing against stone, three hundred Dunborn heavy cavalry from the Confederation.
Their riders sat in leather armour reinforced with steel, long lances resting upright like a forest of steel-tipped spears. The distinctive crimson-and-gold trim of the clans gleamed under the firelight. Their horses wore barding thick enough to turn aside arrows and light blades.
My underling let out a low whistle. ''By the gods… that's more steel than I've seen in one place since the last siege of Altanar.''
''Five thousand Kharidian Blades and Heavy Dunborn Cavalry should do the job alongside our soldiers and the Black Talons, the Ninth Legion won't be able to stand against us,'' I said, resting my hands on the cold parapet, watching as the Kharidian's captain.
He was a scarred man with a braided black beard, giving out orders. The Dunborn riders formed up, their disciplined silence far more intimidating than any war cry. ''They've brought the hammer we needed,'' I said quietly, a slow smile spreading across my face.
''The Ninth Legion may have royal blood on their side, but they've never faced the Kharidian or Dunbar in open battle… and they've certainly never faced lances charging downhill.''
I turned to my underling, the Veronian pipe still smouldering between my fingers. ''Send word to the men. Tonight we feast with our new allies. Tomorrow, we begin planning how to bury that fat prince and his precious legion under these very cliffs.''
The young man swallowed, but this time there was a spark of something new in his eyes, excitement, perhaps, or the first glimmer of belief. ''As you command, boss.''
***
''As you command, my prince!'' the tavern keeper bellowed as he set down the second round for Sahara and me.
The green-skinned beauty turned to me with an amused smile. ''Looks like you can hold your drink, especially at your age.''
''Almost eighteen,'' I said with a laugh. ''I can't help being young, but I know I'm nothing like most princes my age.''
I took a long pull from the rich, honeyed ale before going on. ''Look at my brothers. The Fourth and Fifth Princes drown themselves in luxury, while the First and Second lead armies against our enemies.''
I drained the last of my tankard and slammed it onto the table. ''And me?'' I said, grinning. ''I ride straight into the jaws of death, chasing glory. Seventeen or not, I'll crush the Black Briar Gang, the Black Talon Company, and every outlaw kingdom that stands in my way.''
After that, I leaned back in my chair, the warmth of the ale spreading through my chest as the firelight danced across the tavern walls. For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then Sahara's green eyes lit up like twin suns. She slammed her palm against the wood hard enough to rattle the tankards. ''That's what I like to hear!''
Sahara's sharp teeth flashed in a wild grin as she leaned across the table toward me, her green skin gleaming beneath the lanternlight. ''You've got fire in you, my prince,'' she said, almost purring. ''Not the spoiled whining of silk-draped princes. Real fire.''
She jabbed a finger into my chest. ''And if you're charging into death's jaws, then I'll be right there beside you, axe drawn and thirsty for blood.''
A loud bark of laughter rang out beside her. Lagertha nearly overturned her bench as she shot to her feet, lifting her tankard high enough to spill froth over the rim. Her braided hair swung around her shoulders as her blue eyes shone with fierce delight. ''Aye!'' she roared, earning a few glances from the other patrons. ''That's the spirit of a true king!''
She thumped a fist against her chest. ''Let the Black Briars come! Let the Black Talons come! I'll split their skulls and paint the ground red beside you, master!''
The tavern around us seemed to grow louder with their voices, laughter, shouting, and mugs clashing, but somehow our little corner of the room felt hotter, brighter. I couldn't help but laugh. ''Gods, you two are mad.''
''Mad?'' Sahara echoed, raising a brow.
Lagertha grinned like a wolf. ''We're your kind of mad, master.''
That made me laugh harder. Across from us, Selene sat with her usual grace, untouched by the chaos. She lifted her silver goblet delicately, her fingers wrapped around the stem, and a soft smile curved her lips. Her blue eyes met mine. ''I suppose,'' she said, her voice smooth as silk amidst the thunder of the tavern. ''Someone has to make sure the three of you survive long enough to claim this great victory.''
There was warmth in her smile. Something that made my chest tighten in a way the ale hadn't. She inclined her head ever so slightly. ''So yes, my prince,'' she purred. ''I'll be beside you as well.''
For a moment, I forgot the noise. Forgot the drink. Forgot the outlaws, the kingdoms, and the war waiting beyond those tavern doors. All I could do was look at her and grin. Then Sahara groaned dramatically. ''Oh, gods above, look at his face.''
Lagertha burst into booming laughter. ''Our prince is slain!''
Selene hid her smile behind her goblet as I shook my head and continued drinking as the First Cohort Century guarded the street outside. After some time, I spoke up. ''Let's get back to the fort and prepare.''
''That would be for the best,'' Lirael commented, giving her husband the side eye.
This made me laugh as Sahara added. ''Wait until you see the number of people flocking to your banner, my prince.''
''It's impressive,'' she finished.
''Well, it will be an uphill battle because I think our enemies have more than twenty thousand soldiers, so the recruits will need to train hard,'' I revealed. ''But I'll be fighting on the frontline, I'll be able to get to High First Circle by the time the battle is won.''
Afterwards, we left the tavern and made our way back to the fort. The roads were quiet, save for the steady rhythm of hooves against the dirt. As we rode, Lagertha steered her horse alongside mine, her blue eyes fixed on me. ''I look forward to our upcoming fight, master.''
''So am I,'' I replied.
We got our mounts from the stables where they were stored out before leaving the city, heading back. While on the road, all kinds of ideas came to mind, but I stored them away for another day as Sahara questioned me. ''How come you didn't demand payment from the merchants you saved? Most would.''
I shrugged. ''I should have asked. If we see them again, I'll make sure to do just that.''
After that, we travelled for a couple of hours and began seeing the Ninth Legion patrols, Legionnaire Cavalry scouting the surrounding lands. By the time we reached the gates, Evangeline and Garrick were already there waiting. Something was wrong, and I could tell thanks to the expression on the old man's face.
As I got close, I spoke to the trio. ''What's happened now?''
Evangeline looked pale, her face tight with worry, as Garrick stepped forward. ''Lady Asmara and some recruits have vanished during their patrol,'' he revealed grimly.
''Did you search for them?'' I asked at once.
The older man nodded. ''We did. We found signs of a battle with an unknown monster. Twenty of them were cut down… but Asmara was nowhere to be found.''
Frustration flared inside me, but I forced myself to stay calm. ''I'll go after them with Lagertha and Eve,'' I ordered. ''The rest of you, lock down the fort. No more patrols until we know what we're dealing with.''