Camp

Bootleggers' Pier

The soldiers and mercenaries loosed fierce cries of exultation as they disembarked from the transport's gang planks into the wilds of Arcadia.

It had take almost two full days for all men and women to come ashore as well as most of the equipment. Two of the vessels were now returning to Ostiarium while one of the carrack's stayed behind, anchored out in the bay.

The scene at Bootleggers' Pier was chaotic, a mass of unruly soldiers, the flash of iron-headed spears and swords rippling over black braided hair and spiked helmets.

From his position on the little hill above the cove near the entrance entrance to his field tent, Sir Zane looked down on the men now under his command with more than a little scepticism, and with growing trepidation. Forty days at sea. With little room to train or move. Crammed in the holds of sailing vessels with little to do. Him and his lieutenants set the men tasks to get them up to speed as soon as possible. Set perimeter, guard duty, a little fort not far from the cove, latrines and hunting parties to feed hungry mouths.

A hundred rumours rode the tongues of the soldiers about this new land. Exotic animals, rust coloured nomads, magik and every imaginable rumour whispered everywhere one turned to.

The company of sappers had already disappeared into the wilds of Arcadia. A seal letter from the Duke with some sort of secret plan. He hadn't bothered asking. Whatever it was would not be good.

To the left of the cove he saw the standard of the renowned Purple Legion, from Garrah. The Emperor has sent some of the best sell swords coin could buy to help the Duke. He should pay their leader a visit soon.

A black and golden flag caught the corner of his his. The Flock of Silence. He had done what he could to shield Voah for the time being but her last meeting with Duke Stoneshade had not helped her cause much. The Purger was here to start a Crusade and anyone caught in his way would be swept away. A new Inquisition that Mizar desperately needed