"Nothing of note," he said bitterly. Fieldcarer hadn't uttered a single word of complaint for all their waiting. His armour had been polished to a gleam, and all his hundred men were standing as disciplined as he, ready and waiting for the orders of their new Commander. If Yordly didn't know any better, he would have thought that they were excited.
Yordly looked around in his impatience. "Actually, a question, Fieldcarer. Where are the other men? We're to storm a keep with a garrison of three hundred men, are we not?"
"That is also the message that I was given, Ser," Fieldcarer agreed.
"Then we would need at least six hundred men to make it a fair competition against their walls," Yordly said.
"Gold mercenaries are worth three times the number of ordinary men, at least," Fieldcarer said, quite confidently. "I do not think you will find our numbers lacking."
