Winter. Borderlands.
They travel till late in the night. Only stopping when they've gone about a ten miles from the coastal town that was attacked.
As they make a quick camp. Dorc da Orc informs them that he will go ahead. As the large ork can go days on end without sleep.
And he'll be easy to track. Since he's an ork. And his trail is pretty easy to find.
Hamblin the teenage recruit agrees to it. And tells the ork warleader to continue onwards to the east and south.
The ork general in the armies of Farque walks away, loudly muttering about not north as the direction he's going.
And though his bitter rival would like to go and keep an eye on the big, burly ork who is from the southern polar region of the world.
Sir Percavellé Lé Dic needs some sleep, or at least a little bit of rest. After the long day of travel they've had. First up the coast to the town that was attacked. And now inland, to the east and the south.
Which was part of their plans anyway. As that's the way their patrol has been ordered to go.
But now things have got a lot more important. And they're moving at speed now. After what they saw back at that town on the coast.
A town here in the unruled lands. Where most of it was burnt down. And where most of it's inhabitants were killed.
They're up early the next morning. Well before dawn, on what feels like is going to be another extremely mild day. That will be like it's the middle of spring. Even though it's still actually winter. Admittedly the end of winter.
As a yawning sir Percavellé Lé Dic wanders away to take a piss.
The teenage recruit Hamblin, who is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits. Who have lived and trained in the forest town of Gildin Dale this winter. Only coming out to the coast at the end of the winter season.
Has taken out the brass, cylindrical eyepiece. And even though it's still basically dark. And with just one of the three moons of Volunell in the predawn sky at the moment.
The teenage army recruit who is from the farming village of Polsten, which is located forty five miles to the southeast of Gildin Dale.
Is looking through the eyepiece, twisting the rings at one end as he does so.
Hamblin nods his head when he gets the eyepiece so it works in lowlight.
He scans the horizon to the east, and to the south. Looking for signs of either general Dorc, or the twin masted airship that attacked the town on the coast.
He can see neither, and after putting away the eyepiece. Hamblin quietly calls for them to get underway again.
Maselle the teenage recruit, who has easily found the tracks of the ork warleader, even though it's still relatively dark.
With a grumbling sir Percavellé Lé Dic in tow, who doesn't particularly care for such early starts. Especially considering this is the third one in a row.
The group of teenage recruits who are from right across northwestern Farque.
Sets off after the ork weaponsmith who is a general in the armies of their lord.
The first group of recruits are nine at the moment. As the tenth member of the first group. Claradene left them when night fell last night.
When they left the coastal town and came inland. While she went back down the coast. Back to the border, and the coastal bordertown of Halmard.
Even though Claradene, the best rider in the group. Has a spare mount with her.
Hamblin doesn't expect her to get back to Halmard until sometime this morning. As she would of had to stop in the middle of the night.
To get some rest. For both herself, and the two horses she took from the town on the coast. A town that was practically burnt down. After it was attacked by raiders on an airship.
The young teenager Hamblin looks away to the east where it's getting lighter in the sky, as the sun starts coming up over the horizon in that direction.
The unofficial leader of the first group who has ordered a jogging pace first thing this morning.
Looks back, and can make out sir Percavellé Lé Dic at the rear of the line of teenagers.
The former paladin, even though he's in such heavy plate armour compared to the teenage army recruits in their light leather armour.
And he's in his mid forties. Thirty years older than all of the recruits in the group.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic is easily keeping pace with the much younger Farqian army recruits.
Hamblin looks ahead, and in the gloom of dawn. Spots Maselle up infront, about sixty yards ahead of where he's at the front of the others.
She's slowed down, and when they get closer. Hamblin can at first hear, then see why the teenage girl scouting infront of the others has slowed down to almost a stop.
It's a stream, flowing more or less north to south.
As he joins Maselle, Hamblin the teenage recruit asks her in the elven language "What is it?".
"I've lost the general's trail" is the reply from Maselle in the same language.
The unofficial leader of the first group of teenage recruits nods his head, then quietly says "He probably jumped over at a narrow point".
Hamblin looks up and down this side of the stream as the sky continues to lighten up to the east as dawn takes effect.
"There" says the teenage army recruit who points away to their left, followed by "He would of jumped over there with ease".
They walk in that direction, and when they get to that narrow point in the stream.
Which the ork general could've easily jumped across. Unlike all of them, as they have to cross there. Wading through the knee high water.
On the otherside, they quickly find the large ork's tracks. And they follow them, heading to the south and east. Going further inland, as well as back in the direction of the border. Between the unruled lands here north of the border. And the lands of Farque to the south of the border.
From the maps he has, Hamblin knows that there's other settlements out here in the unruled lands, further to the east.
He wonders if they've been attacked by the raiders with their airship. He figures that they probably have.
And wonders if the raiders will go south next, across the border into their homeland.
Hamblin, like the rest of the recruits know that their corner of their lord's lands.
Infact right across the north of the nation of Farque. Is sparsely populated. Even more so further east. Into the northern mountains where the Krean Protectorate is located.
And that the sentinels along the northern border, like sir Morcin the avenger. Have to be super vigilante to protect along the border of the lands Farque.
The young teenager from the farming village of Polsten knows that the more information they can gather about these raiders.
The better it will be to deal with them if they attempt to come across the border. And attack the towns and villages in northwestern Farque like Gildin Dale.
The nine recruits of the first group, along with the former earl of Lé Dic, Percavellé.
Slow to a quick walk to conserve energy. Much to the relief of the heavily armoured knight who doesn't actually have any standing whatsoever in the armies of Farque.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic, who is a member of the knightly order, the order of the Knights of Saint Mar-che.
Makes his way forward to walk beside young Hamblin. Who though has slowed them down from a quick jog. Is still walking quite briskly as the sun continues to rise in the east.
On what looks like, and feels like it's going to be another mild day for the end of winter.
A day that no doubt will feel like it's the middle of spring once the sun is high in the sky.
A sky not too far from the coast. That has very little in the way of clouds in it this morning.
"I say young fellow" says sir Percavellé Lé Dic as they walk across the open countryside. That's dotted here and there with pale, flax like shrubs. And like along the coast, little in the way of trees.
"There's not been any sign of that filthy beast has there?" adds the former earl of Lé Dic, which is his family's fief in eastern Druvic.
"That smelly creature from the depths of hell" continues the nobleborn knight, who definitely has certain opinions about his bitter rival, Dorc da Orc.
"No sign of him yet sir Percavellé" replies Hamblin, who though only thirteen, is the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits.
Who have been sent out on patrol with two of their instructors, here in the unruled lands, north of the border of their homeland.
The young Farqian army recruit points down at the groups as he adds "Just his trail".
In the early morning light, sir Percavellé Lé Dic, or Percy as he's more commonly called by those who know him well.
Grunts as he sees in the early morning light down on the ground. The telltale signs of his bitter rival Dorc da Orc going by in this area.
The large boot prints of the warleader of the ork race, can easily being seen on the ground, that's slightly damp from morning dew.
The heavily armoured knight is silent for some time. A minor miracle in the opinion of Hamblin and the rest of the group of teenage army recruits.
As the former paladin has a tendency to prattle on about anything and everything.
In particular himself, and Dorc da Orc, and the long running rivalry between the two of them.
The nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic breaks the silence with "I say, i think she has spotted something up ahead" followed by a "Wot".
Hamblin looks ahead, and sees that indeed, Maselle who is out scouting infront of the rest of the group.
Has indeed stopped, and dropped to a knee, as she looks away to the southeast. Here in the unruled lands north of the border.
The group as they approach Maselle, duck down and run low. Then drop down to the ground or to a knee when they get to her.
"What is it?" quietly asks Hamblin who takes out the eyepiece from his pack.
"There" is the quiet reply of Maselle as she points to the southeast, followed by "Movement" she then adds "I think it's the general".
Looking through the brass, cylindrical eyepiece. Hamblin looks to the rise in the distance, about five miles away.
And there indeed, he spots Dorc da Orc. The large ork who is crawling along the ground, looking further to the south and east.
Suddenly stops and looks around, back in this direction. And after a moment, Hamblin sees the ork warleader look directly at them and wave.
The teenage recruit from the farming village of Polsten realises the ork weaponsmith caught their scent all the way down there. And that he can clearly see them all with his naturally enhanced eyesight.
Nods, then waves back after the ork general beckons them forward to join him on the rise, and he points away at something to the south of the rise he's up.
"It's the general" says Hamblin as he puts the eyepiece back in his pack.
"On the rise in the distance there" continues the unofficial leader of the first group of recruits who then adds "He's found something".
The nine teenage army recruits from northwestern Farque, and the nobleman from the kingdom of Druvic set off towards the rise in the distance.
They go at a jog, and as they do. Hamblin once again is glad of all the training they've undertaken this winter.
He realises why their instructors made them do the various runs on the forest trails around Gildin Dale so many times.
It's built up the recruits fitness so that a run at a constant jog, even after a couple of days of long travel.
Is fairly easy for them, as they cover the five miles to the rise that general Dorc is up in pretty quick time.
It's still relatively early in the morning of the mild end of winter's day, when they reach where the ork warleader is lying on the ground, looking away to the south and east.
Most of the terrain here in this part of the unruled lands is fairly flat. Especially back along the coast, where only the headlands that jut out into the ocean, is the only noticeable rise in height.
While further inland, like where they are at the moment. Long gradual rises like the one they're on now. Can be described as somewhat hill like. As such rises are the nearest thing to hills you can find here in this part of the unruled lands north of the border.
Hamblin who has dropped down to the ground next to Dorc da Orc. Looks to where the large ork, who has just grunted, points.
Just a little over a mile away from the rise they're up, is a village. Where a village shouldn't be, as none are marked in this area on the maps of the unruled lands that Hamblin has with him.
Village is too generous of a word to describe it as. It's more of a camp than anything else, and though there's some ramshackle looking structures that could be called houses, and other types of buildings.
There's more tents than anything else in the way of shelter for those living there.
In an open space near the middle of the camp, is the twin masted airship that they saw a couple of days ago. The same vessel that attacked the town on the coast yesterday.
As Hamblin takes the eyepiece out of his pack to look through it.
Next to him, Dorc da Orc quietly says, well quiet for him at least "That's a fucken warcamp" followed by "If it not, me don't know shit 'bout war".
Further to the right of the large ork, his bitter rival, sir Percavellé Lé Dic nods, then quietly says "I'd hate to admit it, wot" followed by "But i do believe the big smelly oaf is correct, wot".
"Base camp?" quietly asks Maselle who is lying to the left of the teenager who is the unofficial leader of the first group of young army recruits.
"Looks like it" quietly replies Hamblin as he looks through the brass, cylindrical eyepiece.
And he sees that the makeshift village, definitely resembles a warcamp.
As everyone he sees is armed and armoured. And the fact everyone is a man. Though he can't put his finger on it. He doesn't think they're a mercenary band. And they're definitely not soldiers.
"Raiders alright" quietly says the thirteen year old teenage boy who unofficially leads the first of four groups of army recruits. Who spent the majority of the winter living and training in the forest town of Gildin Dale. Before heading out to the coast to complete their training.
"Away on the east side of camp" quietly says Golmard who is on the otherside of Maselle.
Hamblin who sees that though some of the raiders are on guard around the camp.
He sees no sign of them having any patrols, on foot or horseback in the surrounding area.
Looks to the side of town that Golmard has mentioned. And slightly grimaces at what he sees.
There's a group of raiders standing around laughing. As another of them drags a young woman by the hair to a tent.
Even from where they are, a mile away on the rise to the north of the warcamp.
They can hear on the wind, the screams of the young woman as she's dragged into one of the tents.
"Well, we know where the young women from that town are" quietly says Maselle, who then sourly adds "And what's happening to them".
Hamblin nods, then after a few moments quietly says "We have to find out if they have any plans to raid across the border into our lord's lands".
"How are we going to do that?" quietly asks Maselle.
It's Dorc da Orc who provides the answer with "Easy" followed by "Go down and get one of 'em cunts, and make the fucker tells us" . . . . . .
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