In a vibrant autumn morning, Velmund gazed upon the thick column of sellswords on the horizon with satisfaction. The mercenary army marched from the outskirts of the city where they were camped the previous night, departing for the rebel encampment in the southwest under the leadership of Sir Bernard Bulloine, the paladin commander of Mirim's Armed Sect charged by the Pope as a guardian to the Hero. As he turned around from the scene faraway, the sight of his three retainers replaced the view in his eyes. There stood the Ferndale siblings and Night Owl, each with a balled fist to their chests.
"I was looking forward to the banquet last evening," Mana remarked casually after the salute, feigning a troubled sigh. "The kitchenhand told me they would be serving venison in the traditional central cuisine style. Why do you have to cancel the banquet and ruin the fun, Vel?"
