"As odd as it might sound, us mercenaries rarely hold grudges for long. In the end, our loyalty is to coin, and the highest bidder. It was not uncommon for a mercenary to one day find themselves fighting side by side with forces that had cost them family, or a loved one in the past.

The vast majority stomached their indignation, and just tolerated it. Work was work, as long as they were paid properly, and a mercenary was rarely choosy about their employer. Some who could not stomach the idea would usually quit. Cases of mercenaries going after their employers over personal vengeance… were rare.

When it happened though, the company in question usually faced heavy penalties, so most mercenary captains took stringent measures to prevent such cases from taking place at all. They were mostly successful in this endeavor." - Gilbert de Faiz, former Chronicler of the Vanguard Legion mercenary company, circa 551 VA.

"So… let me get this straight," said Reinhardt as he seated himself on a table in the gatehouse. The twenty-one surrendered prisoners knelt before him, one man ahead of the rest. Reinhardt took a long pull from his pipe, and exhaled audibly to collect himself before he continued. "You claim to be the one who set those ambushes we ran into? And the first surprise attack on Fort Ascher as well?"

"I proposed the plans, and they were enacted, yes," replied the man in front, who Reinhardt had learned from his wife to be named Lars, and seemed to be in charge of this group. His reply only gave him the beginnings of a headache, and he took another long pull from his pipe.

Reinhardt rarely smoked. He usually only did so when he needed to concentrate, or was faced with a hard decision to make. As Lars related his story, he realized pretty well that this was definitely one such time.

The man took a while to relate his story, and Reinhardt allowed him to. Elfriede stood not far to his left, as she leaned her back against a wall. The fighting was ongoing in the city, but his troops' responsibility that night was to secure and hold the gatehouse, so it was none of their business for now.

"All right, I get it. Give me a moment," said Reinhardt after Lars finished his story. He tapped his pipe upside down against the edge of the desk he sat on, and shook off the ashes in it, before he rummaged in his storage for a moment and brought out a small pouch. "I'm gonna need the harder stuff for this shit."

A sweet, fragrant smell filled the room as he carefully pinched a small bundle of dried herbs with his fingers and stuffed them within his pipe, then he struck a match against the rough surface of his armor and lit the pipe's contents with it.

"So… Lars, was it not?" asked Reinhardt after he exhaled the smoke from his lungs. The herbs he stuffed in this time were a mild narcotic, quite addictive and detrimental if consumed directly, but pretty safe when smoked in small quantities. It helped him maintain a clear head. "You do realize that admitting what you just did would likely get you drawn and quartered if not worse, yes? There's plenty of dwarves who'd be out for your head if they learned of this… and some of my own people as well."

Reinhardt had stooped lower as he spoke each word, until face was right before Lars' face. His sharp fangs were in full display, and he noticed how many of the men and women behind Lars flinched at the sight, as unused as they were to non-humans.

"I am aware of it," said Lars with a resigned sigh. Reinhardt noticed that while the man himself seemed resigned to his fate, many of the ones behind him appeared as if they wanted to protest, yet held their tongues. "All I ask for is for my people to be given a chance to live. They deserved… better."

"Huh," said Reinhardt as he pondered. At the moment only he and Elfriede were in the room with their captives, as everyone else was outside to secure the gatehouse. Their safety was not at risk, as he was no slouch himself and besides, he was pretty certain his wife could have ripped through everyone in the room on her own anyway.

When he threw a glance at his wife, to seek her opinion on the matter, he saw her shrug her shoulders. The gesture was her way of saying that she had no opinions on the matter and that it was his call to make. He pondered for a while more, as he smoked his pipe.

"I'd say you have two options right now," said Reinhardt as he broke the oppressive silence that filled the room as he pondered. Lars looked up from where he knelt and looked him in the eye.

"And what would they be?" asked the man.

"We could hand you over to the dwarves," said Reinhardt with a nonchalant tone. "They would likely pay a bounty for you. After that I don't know what will happen to you. Drawn and quartered if you're unlucky. Hanging or beheading if you're luckier, I'd say."

"I expected that much," admitted Lars with another sigh. "And what's the second option?"

"You could work for us," stated Reinhardt simply as he stuffed some more dried herbs into his pipe and lit it. "Mind you, you should still expect at least a few slaps. Maybe a stabbing or three as well, but if you do choose to work for us, they'll likely hold back… so long as you prove yourself… useful to keep around."

"I was honestly expecting more… anger and vengeance from your kind," admitted Lars honestly. "I had heard that the mercenaries were pretty badly hit by those ambushes."

"Oh, we have our resentment, that's a given," said Reinhardt. "But I also know when to admit when someone pulled one over on us. Now I got you at my mercy. If I don't take the opportunity, when else?"

"After all, for us mercenaries… yesterday's enemies being tomorrow's compatriots weren't an uncommon thing."