Mortensholm, Central Border Princes
Mayor Alonso Was dismayed at what had become of his house. It had been thoroughly looted, then for good measure vandalised and wrecked. His fine mullioned windows were all broken, the glass smashed and crunching under foot in every room.
Of course he knew it must have been the Black Company men who did this, or the blasts from their grenadoes, but a niggling little part of him wondered if this damage might not have been so bad if he had not stayed with the alliance army so long and had instead come back here as soon as he came over the mountains. He had political enemies in the town, and they might well take pleasure in adding to his discomfort.
Then again, he was not actually sure his enemies had survived. His own Lord, the Graf, had been stripped of his wits and made into a babbling fool. From what Alonso saw of the town, he was sure that there must be many survivors similarly broken.
There was a clattering outside the room, someone stumbling over the fallen beams and rubble, and Alonso clutched at his dagger's hilt instinctively.
"Mayor Alonso," came an unfamiliar voice, "I was told I could find you here. Is that you?"
The voice's owner appeared in the doorway. He was a soldier, one of
Captain Joost van Rooyen's men by the looks of him, and by his accent. He was wearing his armour, breatsplate and chain, as if about to give battle any moment. But Alonso knew that Joost's men seemed ever ready as if bred for war and unable to dress for anything else.
"Yes, as you can see you have me here in my magnificent home. I would offer you a seat if I had one to offer."
"Your honour, the Captain wishes you to join him at the eastern tower. There are emissaries of the Dawnstriders there."
Alonso sighed.
"I wondered how long it would take for the noble protectors to arrive. No doubt they wish to offer their peculiar brand of 'protection' now that the Black Company is gone and the danger is over. Oh, and of course there will be the matter of the 'contributions' expected of us, now that we have been thoroughly robbed and have nothing of value left."
"Your honour?"
"Nothing. Forget I spoke. Lead on, young fellow. I would advise you go by the main street for the lesser lanes, though shorter, are almost impasable."