The tired junior mage on duty at the teleporter saw the signal that something was coming through, and many other somethings queued up behind them. Lebrowsky had never seen so many things teleported in one day. He prayed that the stone could hold out. It had been checked by a specialist only recently and declared 'good enough for now, but don't over-stress things.' He wasn't sure what choice he had. No one was asking to come. They had priority and were sending mana ahead. He got out of the way, yelled for people to clear space, and ran to alert Commander Fogle, who was conferring with Baron William about how best to repair the wall, make sure turncoat lizards didn't organize and attack, take care of the wounded, and all the other messy, after-battle chores.
To the commander's relief, Baron William and his people had taken responsibility for the prisoners. The small horde of lizardmen was sitting a quarter mile from the walls, being lectured by three priests and watched over by a mercenary captain on her new mount. A victorious Uncavarn napped nearby on his throne, a reminder that divine smiting was just a heartbeat away. The prisoners seemed in remarkably good spirits as each one vowed sacred oaths of loyalty, received their three muffins and pieces of smoked pork, and went to sit at the back of the crowd.
The wounded from the large battle were few. The Baron's people had fought hard and died hard, headstones littering the ground, but the soldiers of the fortress had been mostly spared. The Courier with an impressive horse and fancy hat turned out to be a healer or paladin. He began attending to the worst wounded. Everyone else was directed toward the Butcher, where he was ladling out large bowls of tripe soup that doubled as a healing potion. Further healing came from mugs of beer and plates of sausages. Both were very popular with all the soldiers. Especially the beer.
Fogle saw his harried mage running towards him, at a speed normally reserved for dinner time. "Catch your breath, then tell me in short, simple words what is happening."
The junior mage panted a bit, then said, "Lots of transfers coming through. Priority Authorization from the capital."
This was news Commander Fogle was happy to hear. "Someone with a brain got our message and is sending reinforcements. No slight to you, Baron William, your people were a godsend and arrived in the nick of time."
Billy smiled. "No slight at all. Glad to see you have more help coming. It will let my people get back to work sooner." He was careful not to say what that work was.
Fogle nodded, "Of course. You have you're own problems up north. I totally understand that you'll have to take your troops and workers home soon. I'm hopeful that the incoming troops will fill the gap as well as you have." They turned and watched as the first twenty-five soldiers appeared. The group had clustered together for the teleport and now shook themselves into a square formation, stepping quickly and heading towards Commander Fogle. He didn't recognize this particular unit, but he knew an elite veteran squad when he saw one, and their lack of banner or other insignia told him they were probably a notch above that. Then, for some reason, they stopped, and two of them began talking.
Behind them, 9 cavalrymen in full plate armor appeared, leading one extra horse. These were the Royal Guard, who normally patrolled the capital and guarded visiting dignitaries or the Emperor himself when he ventured out of the capital. Behind them came two more infantry units. Then, a covered wagon with the symbols of the Mage's Guild, a cook wagon, and more infantry quads. They were held up for only a moment, and then the first squad marched to where the Butcher was serving dinner to the soldiers, while their sergeant spied Commander Fogle and headed his way.
Darman was used to strange orders from subordinates, or at least, one subordinate in particular. "You smell what?"
"Soup. I smell soup, and not a kind I have ever had before. Which is very intriguing since the kitchen is constantly trying to surprise me. I think this mysterious soup bears investigation." The speaker, Corporal Gus, sniffed the air again. "Spicy, but I can't place it."
Darman sighed. Corporal Gus was off his leash and intended to make the most of it. He looked over to where a man in an apron was serving soup from a huge pot. To his enhanced sight, the pot glowed brightly, an artifact of some kind. The man also glowed from the numerous magical items he was wearing. With the protective wards around him, Darman doubted many people noticed what Ozzy was wearing. He recognized the Butcher from Sedgewick immediately and relaxed. There were a few people outside of his tight-knit squad, whose only job was keeping the Emperor healthy, that he trusted. Ozzy might be one of them. He'd taken the man's full measure the first night they'd met, and Gus had as well. "That's a good idea, Corporal Gus. Please take the squad with you and grab some dinner. It was hectic getting out of the city, and I'm sure everyone would like a little soup. Standard protocol, of course. Tiny, if the Corporal looks like he's going to sneak off, sit on him."
The huge bodyguard grinned. "I'll use him for a pillow while I eat his soup."
The Corporal shook his head. "All these threats, every time I get a day off to look around a bit. But I'll be good. I've got people to talk to tonight. Starting with our old friend Ozzy will be a good way to get the lay of the land." The unit marched over to the ring of soldiers eating around the fire, and they made room for the newcomers. Darman took the opportunity to look around the camp quickly. For a major battle, the outpost and village weren't in bad shape. A long section of the palisade was missing, but the gap had been filled with large wagons that would serve as fighting platforms. A deep ditch was dug in front of them, and the dirt was used to reinforce the walls to either side, giving archers an improvised walkway to shoot from. A unit of over a hundred baronial troops was guarding the gap. He hopped into a wagon to get a better look outside. The battle had been fought in front of the outpost, and been a bloody one. Tombstones showed where 'visitors' had died, quite a lot of them. He took a look at the troops around him. The mystery of where the Baron of Gadobhra had acquired his troops was solved. They were all visitors, or players, as some people called them. He wouldn't have thought they'd make decent troops. Most acted like they were on a holiday, anxious to fight monsters, gain power and gold, and die repeatedly, only to walk quickly back from death. It was something to think about.
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The POWs were being guarded by a unit of another hundred baronial troops and the watchful eye of their captain, mounted astride a huge monster. There was a banner flying on the beast's back, but it wasn't the baron's. A sable raven on a red field. He'd seen that before. The captain served the Raven Queen, an appropriate goddess for a mercenary, but another mystery he'd have to investigate.
As was the paladin, dressed as a Courier, mounted on a winged horse. He'd seen the report on the battle near the ruins of Crystalthorne Academy and this man's part in it. He was a Franklin, of course, only a madman would fly into a cyclone to stab it with a sword. That family produced so many surprises. Thankfully, most of them were heroes. The Baron of Gadobhra seemed to have a knack for finding interesting people to work for him. He watched as two Wood Princes lifted heavy logs and literally planted them in the earth to rebuild the palisade. Roots sprang from the dead wood, securing the poles in their holes, and fresh greenery sprouted from the tops.
Gus had reached Ozzy, gotten a large bowl of soup and a loaf of bread, and was sitting near the Butcher with the rest of the unit nearby. That was as secure a spot as he was going to find. With security accounted for, he went to find the Commander of this outpost, and the Baron and Baroness of Gadobhra. He wasn't letting them near the Emperor until he'd taken their measure.
"Corporal Gus, fancy seeing you here in the sunny southlands. Grab a seat on that log, and I'll get you a bowl of tripe soup. Try it out, and if you need a little heat added to it, I've got some interesting crossbreed peppers I can mix into the next bowl. Our local peppermancer is really turning up the heat. We had to put warning signs around his fields." Ozzy had seen the new arrivals coming over to eat and recognized Tiny immediately. If one of the Emperor's bodyguards was leading a unit of hard-looking, veteran fighters, it stood to reason that Emperor Charles Gustavus Viconis, the 9th, would be nearby. Sure enough, a familiar corporal pushed to the front with a large bowl in his hands.
"If I had known you were cooking, I'd have been here sooner. What sort of soup is this? It smells uniquely tasty."
"Special recipe that I cook up to feed hungry soldiers. A variation on the tripe soup recipes I've pried out of the local cooks. I prefer a mix of sedge beast, flaming sheep, and hellpig tripe. Makes for a nice, meaty broth. Then potatoes, onions, horseradish, and a dollop of butter to thicken it up. I'll toss in a handful of whatever spices I have on hand and a pinch of sea salt. Of course, it helps to have a fine tripe pot like mine."
Gustavus glanced at the pot and agreed. "That is indeed a fine pot. I'm not sure if my chefs will be able to duplicate the magical effects it adds to the soup, but I'd appreciate your recipe. I'd enjoy serving this at a feast."
"Sure, and I'll ship out some barrels of our local tripe to you."
"Excellent. It's lovely to see all the exciting things coming from Gadobhra. Your baron is working hard to be useful. How is he doing? I heard he was in the middle of the fighting, along with a certain giant."
Ozzy grinned, "It was a nice little battle. We almost didn't pull it off. There were a lot of lizards to deal with. The Baron and Baroness were cutting deep into one flank, slicing off heads and inspiring the troops with their magic. Clearing the ghouls from Gadobhra was a long campaign, and they honed their fighting skills, clearing out the undead. But we almost lost today, it was close."
"And if you hadn't arrived in the nick of time, this outpost would be lost to us. That would have made things tricky." He looked around and made a slight gesture. Ozzy ceased to hear the sounds of the talking soldiers. Gus handed him an empty bowl, "Another serving, please, and spice it up a bit. And while I'm eating, what advice do you have for a poor corporal who is worried about fighting a war on three fronts? I have no doubts about the orcish tribes to the north of here taking advantage of the situation."
The Butcher pulled out a jar of powdered peppers marked with a skull and crossbones and added a spoonful to the large bowl of tripe soup. Then, thinking about what he'd seen Gus eat at his birthday party, he added a second spoonful. Imbuing the meal with a little heat added a last zing to it. There was a tangible glow to the soup. Some of the bodyguards noticed, but Tiny shushed them. Ozzy thought for a moment. "Fortify the strong points, protect people, and not property. You're dealing with Winter in the North already. Spreading your troops too thin will mean you lose everywhere. Deal with them, and when they retreat, turn your eyes back south. You'll need to protect what teleporters you have and hold out until then."
Gus nodded, "I had thought the same. But losing the southlands means losing the food that supplies much of the Empire. If we don't deal with Winter quickly, famine will set in." He squared his shoulders, "So, we will smash them quickly. And in the meantime, delay and cause confusion in the enemy. I have House Franklin doing a fine job of causing Winter frustration. The Winter Wizards are proud and spiteful things; they are easy to bait. But running them in circles will just delay the war. I'm afraid that to smash them, I will need both a hammer and an anvil. That will fall hard on your people."
Ozzy nodded, "We're ready. Rowan Keep is a damned big anvil. Even if they bring another Ice Devil, we'll be ready for it."
"But will the surrounding lands? That thing has destroyed many small villages. It delights in destruction. I think it will avoid Gadobhra, but what if it turns its malevolence towards Sedgewick?
"Then it's in for one hell of a surprise. You'll have to trust me on that. Sedgewick has some powerful allies."
Gus nodded his head in agreement. He'd read Diego's reports that outlined the treaties with the Fae lords. "So be it, then. A Winter War, and then we see what is left here in the South. Your Baron has been busy fortifying his new lands in the North. Perhaps I can do something to entice him to aid me here in the south.
The Butcher grinned, "Funny you should say that. He has a few thoughts on that, and I have a couple more."