Grunewald, once Garenland’s southernmost village and now the invaders’ base. Hans pointed at a small town on the horizon. When that happened, the group would be forced to travel at the pace of the infantry. Otto didn’t expect to encounter a large force until they crossed the border.
Five thousand spearmen taken from the Southern Army, along with all their supplies and followers, were somewhere behind the main group. The small group was joined by Oskar, the Rolan infiltrator Corina, the skinny girl that appeared stuck to him and ten Rolan wizards eager to repay Villares for his treatment of their families. There was no point in pretending to be mercenaries now.
The guys were all back in their official uniforms and mail armor. Otto didn’t know how much use the magical suits of armor would be in a fight on the open plains, but he felt better having them along. The rest of the squad was behind them in their own wagons. At least the wagon didn’t bounce much with the heavy armor in the bed. Which was why he found himself once again riding south on a hard wagon seat beside Hans. An attack on any Garenland merchant was an insult that couldn’t be allowed to go unanswered. Not that Otto could simply let matters stand. Happily, that had been a caravan run by a Franken competitor, so Otto’s family suffered no loss. His forces had struck half a dozen times across the border, hitting small villages and a caravan that decided to try and trade with Rolan despite repeated warnings and the unsettled climate. The former king of Rolan was now a bandit lord. And speaking of heat, Villares had been turning it up on the southern border. Nearly freezing to death in Straken had given him a greater appreciation for heat.
Summer had finally arrived in the new empire and Otto was thoroughly enjoying the warm weather.
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