“For some gentle souls, ones too good for this sinful world, to go to war is a trial beyond comprehension. These poor souls could not fathom why people must kill one another, and are usually felled on the field of battle. Even should they survive, they returned changed, diminished, almost as if they had left a piece of their soul on the battlefield.

Yet on the opposite side, were those who not only welcomed battle, they revel in it. People who would have had difficulties living in peaceful times, the sort who were prone to turn to violence and crime. For these people, a battle where to kill another was not just allowed, but demanded, was little more than a playground where they could sate their depraved desires.

If only people could see eye to eye and understand one another better, such that the abomination that is war would no longer happen…” - Deimosthenes Herodotus, Anti-War Philosopher from the Union of Free Nations, circa 408 FP.

“No sign today either, eh?” asked Reinhardt as the Lances’ scouts returned from their routine checks that morning.

Three groups of scouts, one led by Dacia, another by Nicole, and the third by Lili and Rózsa, had scoured the borders of the small forest the company hid themselves in, with the latter two even climbing a tall tree in their wildcat guises to scout further away. Similarly, Hannah had been out in the air since dawn, where she kept an overwatch over the general area.

In order to catch the God-King’s group of escapees - which according to the latest information not only numbered at least five hundred but also counted the Archpriest, a known mist archmage in their numbers - the dwarven army had spread themselves in a diagonal line between Norouz and Zefirous, and beyond.

In groups of three hundred, their army was spread out, each group responsible for a specific area, every eighth group made of cavalry for rapid response. The dwarves erected watchtowers over their areas, to ensure that the God-King had not sneaked past them, while Reinhardt’s company opted for traps and ambushes since they happened to be stationed in a forested region.

With a mist affinity archmage in the group, the God-King and his runaways might be able to hide themselves from sight with illusionary magic, because of which the dwarves also took their time to run an elaborate setup of tripwires and alarms to ensure that their quarry had not simply snuck by.

Similarly, Reinhardt’s group in the forest relied more on their noses, as scents were a known weakness of mist-based illusions, which usually failed to account for it. Elfriede’s wind-based sensing ability would have helped as well, were it not for the limited range of it.

As things stood, they had waited two days out in the field for their quarry, but had seen neither hide nor hair of them so far. Some of the mercenaries grew bored over the wait, though none of them had grumbled or complained as yet.

After all, they were still paid for this task, and boredom was preferable to potentially dying, even if the latter paid more. Many of them hoped they would have a role in the God-King’s capture though, as the promised rewards were truly worth a king’s ransom.

The Crown Prince had also added a few more bounties when it was confirmed that several high ranking ministers and priests had escaped along with their God-King, the whole group amounting to a princely sum of a thousand gold coins, and that was just for their heads, too.

As the invading nations no longer had a use for the God-King or his ministers and priests alive, all they wanted was proof of their deaths to use for pacifying the people who were still on the God-King’s side. The Duchy of Sevral especially asked for those heads, as they faced the most resistance by the populace of Nu-Gu’od.

Reinhardt had no idea what concessions the Sevralites had offered in exchange for the heads of the God-King’s party, but it must have been considerable considering the bounty the Crown prince had set. He had not really cared to know either though, as it was not relevant to his task.

He was roused from his ruminations by Hannah’s shrill screech as she rapidly approached their hidden camp, the screech a sign to prepare to move, as they had agreed upon. As their aerial scout, they had long devised a set of simple signals which could be communicated from a distance for her to warn the rest of the company.

“Hannah? What’s the deal? Did the dwarves find them?” Reinhardt asked the moment the hawk therian girl landed in the middle of their camp, somewhat out of breath. Clearly she had hastened on her way back, given the tired look she had.

“They did, boss. The group directly to our north-west. The battle had just begun when I turned back,” replied Hannah in between gasps for breath. “Their mage must have been good enough to cover up the signal flares.”

“Fuck. Lars! Set off the flares! Everyone else, we’re moving out!” Reinhardt yelled immediately. Lars also reacted quickly to the command and set off two signal flares at once, one denoting contact with the enemy, and the second denoting that they were further north-west along the line. The rest of the Lances had already prepared themselves when they heard her screech, and were ready for departure within minutes.

“To me, Lances! Best speed north-west!” said Reinahrdt as he ran ahead of the company, which rapidly followed behind him. A smaller group of around sixty with him in the lead ranged ahead of the rest of the company, composed of the elves and half-elves, as well most of the therians amongst them. The rest of their elite fighters rode on the backs of the therians, who ran on all fours, the elves keeping up beside them.

It was somewhat undignified to look at, but gave them the ability to send out their group of elites ahead of the pack at high speed, exactly for when time was of the essence like right then. Reinhardt himself brought Elfriede on his back as he ran on all fours, with Mischka behind him, who carried Gudrun and Atman - both not the fastest runners - on her broad back with ease.