275
You brief the three Lencians to spread out into an extended line and to watch carefully for your signals before you scale the river bank and make your approach to the trees. They all seem to be competent scouts but you have your reservations. Had it not been for Schera’s insistence, you would have preferred to have reconnoitred this copse alone.
Silently you creep forward through the snow, using the sparse undergrowth to your advantage wherever possible. You are less than a hundred yards into the copse when you spy a small camp hidden among the trees. It comprises four white canvas tents attended by a dozen lean and hungry-looking human soldiers armed with longbows. A furled battle-flag stands propped against one of the tents and you signal to your nearest scout to join you, hoping he will be able to identify its chequered black-and-white design.
‘They’re League-landers of Ilion,’ whispers the scout, staring at the campsite. ‘I know that flag well. They’re good mercenaries, these men, loyal to the King. We fought alongside them at Hokidat.’
You are anxious about going forward and making contact with the mercenaries. If they are as good as your scout claims, there is a real danger that they will fire first and ask questions later. You tell your companion of your fears and he smiles.
‘Don’t worry, Sire,’ he says, ‘I know how to contact them.’
