Aubrae watched the men, taking note of the myriad of different tabards that denoted their allegiances. Most had the white lion of the Ghiestean mercenaries, though there where both Roesoneans, Endiereans and Diemeans among the mix. Whatever she might have hoped for, this was not battle-ready units of hardened veterans as much as it was the shambling remains of a broken army. She shook her head slightly.
”Around seven hundred and fifty, all in all, Your Highness” someone remarked, pulling her out of her reverie.
Turning, she found herself face to face with a man in the tattered remnants of the Roesonean army. The man was clearly past his prime, though there was a hardness to him that spoke of years of experience. She guessed his name.
”General Brosuine?” She nodded her greetings. ”I am pleased that you could make it. Seven hundred, you say?”
The Roesonean general bowed in return, though it was with stiff movements and obvious to all that he favoured one leg over the other. ”Seven hundred and fifty men, Your Highness.” He stated again, grimacing as pain shot up through his leg. ”It would have been two hundred more, had the Windsprite survived the journey, but it is seven hundred and fifty more than I dared hope for.”
Aubrae nodded thoughtfully. ”How did the Windsprite go down?” she finally asked, as she scanned the crowd and took in the faces of the weary soldiers before her.
”She was thrown against a reef in the dark as far as we have been able to conclude,” the general remarked, following the Princess stare. ”Nesiere forgive me, but there was nothing we could do but continue with the screams of the drowning in our ears.” He shook his head. ”My appologies, Your Highness – that is hardly an image a lady should carry around.”
Aubrae’s lips grew taut. ”But it is words a Princess needs to hear, General. Continue if you please.”
”Yes, Your Highness. We where forced to abandon others – those too weak to survive the forced march to the sea. Some wanted to try their luck in Boeruinean prisons, others begged for a clean death at the tip of a sword – you must understand, Your Highness, that at that point we had had little but roots and boiled leather to eat for weeks.”
The Princess gave a sigh. ”But you have been fed during the trip?”
”Yes, Your Highness. I had not thought I should see grown men weep at the sight of common stew, but nonetheless the men wept like children when they found hot meals and warm liquor for them on the Taeghan ships. Many a prayer of thanks have been said, milady, both to the gods, but also to you.”
Aubrae raised an eyebrow. ”I feed them, and they blaspheme in return, hardly appropriate, General.”
”Not like that, Your Highness. You have to realize, that these men, these sevenhundred and fifty soldiers, would have died an ignoble death of starvation and frostbite, if you had not sent those ships to save them. As they see it, they owe you their lives.”
”Don’t be ridiculous, General, they would not even be there, if not for the war between the Boers and the Avans.”
Tael shrugged. ”Perhaps, Your Highness, but that was your fathers doing. Besides, they are soldiers. They get paid to fight and die without questioning the causes of the conflict. What you have done, is send help to people that where not loyal to you in the first place. You have made an effort to reach men who come from the southcoast, from Ghieste and Roesone, Endier and Diemed, and you have done so, heedless of the dangers this posed towards your own followers. And without having to do so in the first place. You are not their liege, and hold no obligations towards these men, yet still save them from cold and hunger – and to a starving man, that is reason enough to thank you.”
”Yer Highness?” As the two had spoken, a burly man wearing the white of the Ghiestean mercenaries approached, clutching a dented helmet between his grimy hands, his head bowed and eyes cast down. Spears where immediately leveled against him as two guards stepped forward to flank their Princess, and the man quickly looked up and hunched his shoulders reflexively, expecting to be struck down where he stood.
Aubrae lifted a slender hand to push one of the spears aside. ”Let him speak” – she turned to look at the man, grimacing slightly at his smell, but otherwise not showing any sign of discomfort at his closeness. ”What do you want, Soldier?”
”I beg Yer Highness’ forgiveness, but I couln’t help but overhear the General’s words, an’ its true, Yer Highness.”
The Princess cast a sideways glance to Tael Brosuine. ”What is, Soldier?”
”That we owe you our lives, Yer Highness. ” Other soldiers among the beddraggled lot had closed in now, and Aubrae automatically took half a pace backwards, uneasy at the sudden press of unwashed troopers.
”T’is true, Your Highness,” another man, this one in the tabbard of Diemed remarked. ”I can be a father to my children still, because of you.” Other voices piped in, as individuals spoke up, wishing to thank her for their lives personally. The first mercenary seemed to come to some form of decision with himself, and suddenly took to a knee before Aubrae, daring himself to finally look into her eyes. ”Yer Highness, if you will let me, I’ll pledge myself to you.”
As the Princess stood with astonishment painted in her face, staring at the burly and dirty mercenary at her feet, others took the cue and knelt themselves. One by one the battered and broken remnants of the army knelt, until at least a sea of eyes looked expectantly towards her, all – soldiers and mercenaries alike – professing their wish to serve her, and only her.
