Lots Thrown In

A few days later, in the cool of morning, Brochwel went to the edge of the lake with Tecca and Tarquin to see who had decided to check out the recruitment notices. Tecca had pulled a favor to get copies into the hands of some nearby town criers, then they spent the rest of the previous days going to various artisans, giving specifications and receiving quotes.

They arrived early to a shoreline deserted except for an official who handed them an official document with Kuzon's seal, permitting them to recruit. Task done, said official declared himself officially sleep-deprived and tromped back up the hill.

"I wonder if anyone's going to listen to a guy in a frock rather than armor," Brochwel tried to bend the collar away from his neck, but it had been ironed with so much starch the fabric may as well have been wrought iron. His new armor wasn't ready yet, so plain clothes for now.

"Do great. Others: sleep in? Early."

Brochwel hoped Tarquin was right. Ducks patrolled the edge of the water behind them. Unless you counted a cloud of gnats, nobody had come to visit. But they were early.

"Hey, check it out, boys." Tecca held up the recruitment permit for them to see. "Our little mercenary band has an official name."

Leaning in to look at the fancy, swooping letters, Brochwel read aloud, "Temporary Expeditionary Auxiliary Regiment? Who came up with that?"

"Someone who understood we needed a name that sounds like absolutely nothing. The pack-leaders angle for prestigious posts, for themselves or for trusted subordinates with the talent. Note the name includes no number to indicate any precedence over others. A unit that's both temporary and auxiliary would only be sought by those desperate for any command, and such people the prince doesn't have to keep happy."

That category included Brochwel. He looked up the gentle slope to the city. Weird, him recruiting in the shadow of Cargelhan, whose walls Sir Ambrose had once instructed him to breach. So far Tecca had them staying at an inn by the stables outside the wall, because it was cheaper. Would he be welcome if he tried to walk in? Right now Brochwel wished to storm (in the running fast sense) the gates for something to drink.

"Tea regiment," said Tarquin with an approving smile.

"Wha—oh, you're right, it does abbreviate to 'tea regiment'," Brochwel said.

"It abbreviates to T.E.A.R." Tecca said, rolling her eyes.

Over the next few hours, people trickled along the path to the lake. Tecca fielded most of the questions.

"Is this a mercenary unit?" The question was asked with some trepidation.

"Technically yes, but only as the fastest way through the bureaucracy so we could begin operations right away, without a pack-leader claiming the command for their sister's lute-tutor's second cousin."

That got a chuckle from the crowd and also a follow up question: "What's this operation that needs to be done before the army's ready?"

"We'll tell those who sign up. We're looking for people who can ride long distances at speed and use magic or some sort of ranged weapon, not picky about which."

A few curious onlookers made the crowd of recruits look bigger than it actually was. Still not a big draw. Brochwel had to keep telling the new arrivals that his wanted poster, like all distributed by the now defunct Tragaron government, was heavily exaggerated. But they were getting some people to sign up, progress was progress.

As Brochwel assured yet another person that no, no one who signed up would have a rock inserted into their head, a horse-drawn open-top carriage rattled down the hill from Cargelhan. At first he paid it no mind. But then the crowd started to turn around to look as the horses clopped to a stop just behind the would-be recruits.

They parted to give a clear view of Brochwel to the carriage's single passenger, and vice versa.

"Olivia ..." Tecca growled under her breath.

Olivia Callaway stood with one foot on the seat rail and the other atop the backrest of the driver's seat, though the height didn't help her see any better from this close. She was a wolfgirl with copper hair that dangled in loose ringlets. Considering the gilded white carriage, Brochwel hadn't expected impeccably tailored military dress, but Olivia wore a rich dark green coat with exaggerated epaulets, riding boots, and gray pants.

"It's General Callaway now, Ms. Sobriquette. I'll thank you to remember who is in command. Speaking of ..." Olivia shielded her eyes against the morning sun and regarded Tarquin and Brochwel.

"Well well well. When I heard the prince was authorizing a mercenary company, I imagined an established one. You know, with mercenaries already in it? All those months running around and Ms. Sobriquette came back with ... two?" Her hand went up by her mouth to cover a high pitched laugh. "Oh ho ho ho ho oh dear!"

"What do you want, Olivia?" Tecca shoved her list of recruits into Tarquin's hands. "Unlike some people, we're—"

"Taking part in the defense? Excellent, I'm looking forward to working with you." Olivia hopped down from the carriage and strode over. "Who are your finds?"

Tecca sighed. "The furole is named Tarquin. And that's Brochwel."

"Pleasure to meet you both. General Olivia Callaway, commander of the Army of Cargelhan."

"I'm Commander Brochwel. The pleasure is ours."

"Only a commander? I guess Kuzon really wants you to slip under everyone's notice."

Brochwel and Olivia sized each other up with friendly smiles. Every commanding officer Brochwel had served so far had been a different puzzle. Her confident gaze didn't offer any immediate tells.

"The prince said you would be operating independently." She said it as if it were a fact with expression or gesture to suggest it could possibly be a bother.

If Brochwel knew commanders ... "I'd be happy to keep you informed of what we're doing, just not in front of a crowd that includes gawkers as well as recruits."

General Olivia Callaway then rapid fired a few questions, pressuring him with pace and by stepping closer. Brochwel edged back to maintain personal space.

"Have you ever led troops?"

"Yes."

"What kind of unit?"

"Small strike team."

"And that qualifies you to lead a mercenary company?"

"This one will function as a large strike team."

"Imagine you held the overall command. Would you let a 'big strike team' run around instead of incorporating them into your defense?"

Brochwel's step back hit a duck, who hissed and flew off, leaving Brochwel at the edge of the water. "If the I knew said team's commander had the training and experience to select the right targets and mislead the enemy, then yes."

"And how much training and experience do you have?"

"Trained since I joined the order when I was eight. First real combat about ten years ago. Led a strike team for seven."

For a moment Olivia continued sizing him up. Then she grinned and started back to the carriage.

"Very well. Impress me, Brochwel. Then I'll make sure you and your band are more than just mercenaries. Can't have real talent, if that's what you are, leave for the highest bidder as soon as the war ends. Waste our time and soldiers, and we'll run you out of Kirrglos." She hopped over the carriage door (without opening it). Still standing, she pointed ahead. "Driver, onward. I need to see MY army now. Oh ho ho ho!"

They all watched her ride off, counter-leaning as the carriage took its first turn up the hill.

"You'd think with all the etiquette lessons she'd have learned chairs aren't for standing on," Tecca grumbled. Then she addressed the crowd, "Listen here, people. If you want to go join the regular army and hold the line, that's excellent. General Callaway will lead a stalwart defenders. But Kirrglos also needs people who slip through enemy lines and keep the empire guessing. This Temporary Expeditionary Auxiliary R—"

"Tea Regiment!" Tarquin shouted.

"Not what it's called, Tarquin. This unit is for those of you who want to strike first and run circles around the enemy. That was Brochwel's specialty in the Flaxen Order, and now he'll apply his talents to fending off the empire from our homes."

Some of the crowd decided the show was over, and started to leave until a voice piped up.

"Will we have to press on and liberate Tragaron after?"

"No," Brochwel looked for the speaker but couldn't find them. So he addressed the crowd instead. "Unless Prince Kuzon orders me to do so, that's not in my plans. Tragaron ... stopped feeling like home twenty years before I left it. Will you let me throw in my lot with you?"

When the crowd dispersed an hour later, they had a bit shy of forty people who would muster the next morning.

Tecca patted Brochwel's shoulder. "I know it's not many, but considering how recently we put out the call ..."

"Eight times as many ..." Brochwel marveled and hugged the paper to his chest. "I've only ever commanded a few who were assigned to me. I didn't know if anyone would choose to on their own."