As the blue sky turned orange, Blaidd emerged from the dense forest and entered a vast field of grass. In the distance, he could see the sprawling city of Maribor, from which a constant stream of soldiers poured out to join the army defending the north against the invading south. Tents of soldiers and nobles dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see.
The towering man quickly scanned his surroundings and located the encampment of his mercenary band. Their location, on the edge of the camping areas, was typical for a group of hired fighters in a war party. The telltale thin smoke rising from the middle of the encampment indicated that preparations for a campfire had already begun.
With a buck filled with stab wounds on his shoulder, Blaidd made his way towards the encampment, trudging through the open fields that abutted the forest. It took him only a minute to reach his destination, and as he walked past the tents, he noticed all the mercenaries staring at him.
In this place, there were approximately five hundred people, hailing from a variety of backgrounds. There were individuals from Kovir, Redania, Skellige, Cintra, as well as dwarves and elves - a rare sight in a realm plagued by racism.
"Wat 'ave ye got there, Blaidd?" a man with the usual Temerian peasant accent called.
"A buck." Blaidd answered, side-eyeing the man. "Bugger off, it's not yours."
The man just spat on Blaidd's path. "Greedy freak."
Despite being part of an all-welcoming band, not all the individuals within it were accepting of others, particularly those like Blaidd, who was part-elf. Nonetheless, he pushed forward, moving towards the inner circle of the encampment.
As he walked, Blaidd approached a specific tent, where he noticed three women loitering in front of its entrance.
"Blaidd!" A woman with black hair called him rather seductively. She's not an ugly woman, but not pretty either. She's one of the prostitutes that followed the band, giving the group their services… "Want to come tonight? I'll pop your cherry for free, just for you."
The owner of the body, despite being in his early thirties, was still a virgin - though not by force. He was a handsome lad, and many women had shown interest in him, but he was a romantic and wanted to wait for "the one." It was a perfect body for a fresh start.
Blaidd just shook his head slowly as a sign of refusal to the woman, a sigh of disappointment came from her, and Blaidd continued to walk, the buck still on his shoulder.
Upon reaching the center of the encampment, Blaidd noticed that a campfire had been set up, and a group of men had gathered around it to keep warm. As he approached them, the group took notice of him, and several of them began to grumble and complain.
"Hoi, what kept ye, laddie?!" a stout dwarf stood up from his seat and pointed at Blaidd in annoyance. "Were ye too busy chokin' tha' buck wi' tha' hairless arm o' yers?!"
"Calm down, Brouver." Blaidd said casually to the dwarf, dropping the carcass. "Had to deal with wolves a little."
"And ye didn't bring those dead wolves too?" another man, named Marek, frowned, seemingly displeased by it. "We could have a feast tonight if ye brought those. Not t' mention their pelts would sell for some orens."
"I'm only one man, Marek, not a mule." Blaidd grunted, walking to the campfire as rookie cooks dragged the body to be skinned and cooked. "Go ahead, go to the forest again, the corpse is still there."
"Nevermind then." Marek murmured.
"How many did you slay?" asked a young man, Ademar, a relatively new yet well-trained member of the band.
"One." Blaidd answered, sounds of scoffs entered his ears. "The rest of the pack seems to have run away."
"Thot there was more," commented Brouver the dwarf. "Did I ever tell ye 'bout the time when I slaughtered six of those bastards to feed an orphanage near Ellander?"
"No one would wish to hear your stories of benevolence, Brouver." another man by the name of Arturio. "I've grown weary of hearing it."
"And I'm tired o' seein' yer Nilfgaardian arse." the Dwarf spat at Arturio, the spit dropped just right at the foot of the man. Seeing what he had done, Brouver calmed down, looking a bit guilty. "Sorry."
Arturio just sighed. "Are you feeling tense, friend?"
"What's wrong with you?" Blaidd asked curiously. Arturio's right, Brouver isn't a dwarf to insult people based on their background, yet he just did that in front of everyone.
"Nothin's wrong with me." Brouver grumbled, grabbing a mug and gulping its content. "Just thinkin' 'bout the war."
"What of it?" Marek asked.
"It's our first big war." Brouver said. "We nevah been in one before, just scuffles with neighbors. But against those black ones? I 'eard they wear thick plates that even me sharpest axe can't cut through, that's why Cintra fell so quick, aye?"
"Well, a coward, are you?" mocked Ademar the Young. "Our realm is threatened and you worry if your axe can cut through their armour? Cut through the gaps, I say!"
"Well, it's an important question to be asked, kid." Blaidd pointed out. "If your weapons can't go through their armour, sure, you could attack the openings of the armour if you're calm enough. How about those levies? Can barely hold a spear in training, let alone in the midst of battle with their lives on the line. They'll just stab wherever, those armors included. If that goes on, there'll be a slaughter in the fields."
"Where we goin' to fight 'em anyway?" Marek asked. "Brugge?"
"Sodden. Black ones last seen at Upper Sodden. We'll meet 'em on Lower Sodden, likely." Ademar murmured. "Those peasants are fine, we'll fight with numbers! The North realms 'ave 30,000 men in their ranks. They'll be scared stiff!"
"We're fighting an empire, lad, not a backwater kingdom." Blaidd scoffed. "How'd you know all that?"
"Heard one o' the officers," Ademar's face fell down to a frown. "Well, we have sorcerers."
"Can't refute that." Blaidd hummed. From the knowledge he'd been given, sorcerers are a powerful bunch, enough to turn the tides of battle. Besides, the northern realm has himself, at most, he could decimate an entire line and rout the other ten in a day.
"See?" Ademar smugly said. "We'll win."
"To be young and naive, how I missed those times." Arturio, who had been listening, sighed. "If the northern realms had sorcerers, then Emhyr had ten times more, though perhaps you're right, mages are like slaves in the south, less trained possibly."
"Supporting your homeland, are you?" Marek mocked.
"While I still have feelings for Daerlan, it is fleeting at most." Arturio answered. "Besides, the northern realms are the ones who paid me, not Nilfgaard."
"So you follow where the coin toils?" Ademar scrunched his face.
"Aren't you too?" Arturio said in amusement. "Don't tell me you're a nobleman fighting for their own country. We're all brothers of coins here."
The young man just blushed at the accusation, and didn't speak another word after that.
"Ah, all this shite talk about the war is making me hungry." Brouver put down his mug and looked at the cooking tent. "Hey! Where're those meat ye' oversized slugs!"