As was often the way, a slight political spat over land ownership between two minor lords of the Asatarian and Sevonian nations had developed into a heightened state, each lord gathering his troops to his banner to fight for what he considered to be his god-given right. Whether whatever God was watching cared for the whole sorry affair, Alice preferred not to question. Such question were better left to the philosophers while she worried with the here and now. As her home county prepared for war, it was inevitable that she would be called to battle, given her status as a mercenary of some repute; Sevonia was a place where everyone could throw their lives away in search of glory, no matter their creed or background. Sevonia was a place where strength was the only currency that mattered, and she had it with some to spare. The bastard daughter of a mercenary and a camp follower, she had been with Sevonian soldiers her whole life, and it seemed some of her fathers knack for killing had been passed down to her. Unlike her father though, she had also been gifted with her mother’s cunning, a trait that kept her alive when many of the company was slaughtered, including their Captain, her father. Devoid of leadership, the mercenaries had floundered until she grabbed a hold of the reigns, turning them from internecine brawlers into one of the finest fighting forces this side of the Azur. When the call to arms had come, so too did the responsibility of the mercenary forces under the Sevonian banner fall to her. So it was that she found herself marching alongside the bulk of Lord Alastair’s forces, at the head of one arm of the force that made up the Sevonian retribution against Asatar.

Despite the footslogging, the miles went by relatively quickly, every man and woman present at least somewhat used to marching. As the sun began to sink low into the sky, camp was called. The carts following up the main column of troops was messily pilfered by the soldiers, setting up tents and fires in good time. Lord Alastair called to her as she walked by.

“Miss Endera, set up your tent over here if you will.” He gestured to the section of the campsite where his own tent and his retainers tents were. The benefits of leadership, a voice in her head snarked as she dumped the pile of poles and fabric onto the ground.

Sometime later, after the tent had been assembled and the sun had almost dipped below the horizon line, she finished piling the firewood in a ring of stones. She stood up to look for Enukai, the mage that had been assigned to her, surprised when she caught him already approaching from the corner of her eye.

“Stand back a moment, if you will?” He requested, Alice dutifully rising to her feet and stepping back. He extended his hand with a wordless grunt, the tinder sparking into a glowing conflagration with an audible poof. Alice lowered herself to the ground, crossing her legs in front of the fire. She gestured for him to sit too, and he obeyed.

“I hope Lord Alastair has more in store for me than being a glorified fire lighter.” He laughed, gazing into the flames.

“Even if he doesn’t, I do.” Alice replied, tossing another twig onto the fire.

“Oh?”

“My company had quite a few mages in the past. Commanding them is nothing new to me.” She reached into her pack, pulling out a wrapped loaf of bread and tearing a chunk from it.

“It is good to know I am in good hands.”

“So, tell me a little about what you can do.” She asked, taking another bite.