In the weeks that followed the compound felt like it was being turned upside down. The new Patron was clearly very wealthy but more importantly some kind of Mage, as were his two apprentices (or assistants – as the Woman “Dark” Odo curtly informed you one time). Fortunately that was your only brush with her. She seemed a touch sadistic and was reprimanded for using her powers to get troopers to perform tasks for her.

Watching your friends and acquaintances suddenly turn into sycophantically waiting on her every whim nearly made you run away. But it soon turned out that such abuse was not going to be allowed. When the other “Assistant” mage Malcianus found out about it the two had a great storming row in the middle of the courtyard. With Dark Odo eventually slinking back to her quarters like a whipped cur. More importantly Malcianus freed her stooges apologised to them and tipped them generously for the indiscretion.

Despite that two of them still quit and left the Mercenary band.

Others were dismissed with pay and a few new faces began to fill out the ranks as well. Nothing greatly unusual in that, except you noticed the once being paid of were all lazy sons of bitches or those that had let their skills get very rusty. Overall the quality of the troops was being improved, even a newcomer such as yourself could see that!

Then about a month after the Mages moved in the new uniforms arrived from the Tanners. Brand new coats of well cured studded leather for each man at arms. Those with officer ranks even had embellishments of brass or even silver! A full Moon on a sable field now rode on the right breast of every member of the Company.

Being one of the newest you got your towards the end of the distribution. But it fit perfectly, almost weirdly so as you never went up for a fitting or anything. “Magic” some whispered, but there was nothing magical about the Hauberk you now wore with unaccustomed pride. If magic had been used to make it, then it had to have been a magic tailor and nothing more.

Meanwhile at the Mercenaries camp.

Resignedly you and a couple of your squad mates set about tearing down the tent and base camp the new boss had ordered set overnight. “Typical” army one of the older men had muttered. “Hurry and wait Hurry up aand wait”.

You and a few of the others wouldn’t know about that you were too new to the uniform having barely graduated your basic training. Again you accepted the menial jobs always go tot he new guys. Thats just the way of the world. Still you had to wonder what was going on.

A few weeks ago the business at the old Manor was as normal, not very disciplined but it was a good laugh. You had felt so proud the day they had issued you with your leather armour and (gasp) as sword of your own, four months of “training” under Sgt Pike had not taught you half of what you learned in the last six weeks though!

You hadn’t seen him arrive. Magister Zathabarius that is. A carriage had turned up at dusk one day and the immaculately groomed servant had ever so politely asked to see the Captain of the band. Naturally he was greeted with the usual surly compliance, even the previous officers were not going to turn away potential coin despite the standing orders not to bother them after sun down.

A few minutes later as you watched the spectacularly accoutred Carriage and the well dressed attendance standing on its footplate. Captain Markus had come half staggering out of the officers mess, to stand at the window of the carriage.

As you watched he suddenly stiffened to attention and actually saluted the “Patron” in the carriage. Nobody could hear what had been said but the impact on the captain was obvious as he wheeled about and all but sprinted back into the officers mess!

The stranger looked carefully at the Dwarf and then at the now growing crowd of gawking villagers eyeing the scene with semi drunken amusement.

“Very well, far be it my master intent to disturb your friendship gentlemen. We withdraw, but instead before we leave let me offer the hospitality of the Manor to any that wish it. My Master has instituted some changes that you may begin to see. There will be no more disrespectful behaviour of any of the soldiers in his employ in your towns and villages no instead we will be offering you our neighbours help and assistance at very fair rates in the future to reflect our common holding of the land. But…” and here the man paused to fix the Steward with an eerie look. “..we will expect more respect than evidently you were used to granting the previous commander of the Manor! One day you may need us and your greeting will be remembered.”

You were one of the last few to drift away as the Justice Moon Soldiers struck their camp-site. The dark skinned stranger stayed away for the most part and allowed the soldiers to do the bulk of the work. So you studied them a little.

Naturally you had seen a few of them over the years come riding through the village at break neck speeds or come swaggering into a village Tavern and demand to be served right away no matter who had been waiting ahead of them. Arrogance was part and parcel of the job you guessed for such as them.

Still looking at them work, so was swift hard labour. In fact seeing as how you had struggled with the set up of more than a few tents just a couple of days before it was marvellous how swiftly they disassembled the heavy cloth tent and stowed it into a surprisingly small set of poles and bundles of cloth.

Interestingly this set of them were a damn slight cleaner than you had noticed before. All of them were clean shaven save one that sported a half beard that just failed to hide a scare on the lower part of his face. But even he was neatly groomed and washed. By heaven they were actually approaching smart? Whomever this “Zathabariaus” was he had wrought some swift changes in his troops. Idly you wondered how much money he had offered the once surly mercenary band to straighten up so far so quickly.

“You can’t do that sirrah!” cried a rude voice from behind you, startling your thoughts. Turning about you see the Chief steward of the feast had come up and was shaking a finger at the newly erected tent and the man inside.
“Nobody may just barge in to this gathering without an invitation nor by the leave of those gathered least of all a bunch of filthy…” The stewards irate tone trailed off as the Man uncoiled from the tent and strode outside towards him suddenly.

“And you my good sir are ignorant and without courtesy.” The stranger retorted gesturing at the edge of the tree line. “As anyone with any wits can see I am outside your Gathering, and my masters fiefdom extends to this point, so away with your airs and pettiness sir!”

The steward blanched as he took in the man’s obvious wealth and bearing, but to his credit did not cower. “Neighbours do not sneak up uninvited sir.” he began. “Had your master wanted to attend the fayer he had but to ask as is the long custom of this place”

The stranger fumed “You would do well to offer no insult to your new neighbours least of all those with the wealth and power to buy you petty villages little man. My master is but newly arrived to this area and has hardly time to visit so many petty lords and small holdings to ask. In our lands an honest merchant offering goods and service may pitch tent nd sell their wares without such unneeded petty protocol. Come now then how much for my tents pitch then steward, if I takes money to buy your courtesy I am not lacking in coin!”

By now others had begun to drift towards the shouting. A gruff looking Dwarf stumped up to stand by the steward. “It is not about Money, mercenary this meeting is about friendship. We all have known and traded among ourselves for some years now, its not open to any to just barge in here, you need to be invited no matter who ya ‘re.”

The second day of the Fayer arrived and the gathering was surprised to find a new Tent had been pitched apparently overnight at the edge of the clearing. Clearly visible to the main area but unusually out of the way and certainly not by invitation.

Curious; you found your way to it and were some what surprised to see two member of the Blood Moon Freebooter Chapter house standing at guard outside the awning of the clearly dessert made tent. The tents flap was open and within you could clearly see the stranger from the previous day within reclining on a pile of elaborately embroidered cushions. A curious looking Pipe smoked and bubbled in front of him and the savour of exotic “incense” flowed out from the Tents interior.

Pegged into the ground out side the tent was a carefully painted sign:

Recruiting
Wanted men and women of a bold heart and a drive to succeed. Many positions available in the service of the esteemed
Zathabarius.
Emir Commander of the Sons of the Justice Moon!

So the fine gentleman you chanced upon the other day was none other than the new patron of the Blood Moon Mercenary’s! Well he had lost no time in changing the name and imposing his own colours. Perhaps one day you might see what this odd noble fellow was all about.

The festival began at dawn and the Dwarven heathsmaster sounded a great Horn to commence the festivities. Freed from your menial duty’s you wandered the gathering eager to see what the strange and exotic things the others had brought. As you passed through the fayer you saw a strange man striding purposely from booth to booth inspecting everything but as far you could tell buying nothing though it might have been he passed a bag to the Apothecaries Herb-master. Thinking no more about it you turned back to your own business only to find a few moments later the stranger appraising you keenly.

The man was tall over six feet and had the deep hazelnut tan of the folk of southern Mengath, not quite the brown black of the dessert dwellers of that region that passed through your villages now and then on their way to gaze incomprehensibly at the Ocean as their curios custom was.

No, this was a man of substance from the cooler lands of the delta of the Men river. His gear was simple but you could see its quality, and was that an actual golden ring he wore? With a slight smile he saw your gaze linger a moment on his jewellery.

“Such things can come to any that have the fire to seek to better themselves my friend” he said in a low voice. “Honest effort and the wisdom to seize any opportunity have made my fortune. Perhaps you will make yours likewise one day?”
Smiling slightly lopsidedly at you : as if sharing an inner joke, he tipped his wide brimmed hat to you as he strode off into the crowd. Unable to reply to such an address you can only stand there wondering at the man’s manner and.. you recalled with a shudder, what could;d have happened to his eyes, both seemed filmed over with cataracts but he had not moved like a blind man, no he seemed to almost look right through you with those creamy featureless orbs..

While the village elders were comforted by these words in as much as the Mercs were still alive and unkilled. The thinly veiled recruitment drive right on the verge of the summer events angered some and the two free riders were sent away with sharp words not to bother the honest folk of the villages! Still you and a few of your fellows were vaguely disappointed, the daring life of a sell sword had some appeal to the youth of each village. But in the end the elders words were obeyed and with on ly a few hours delay the great wains of good and livestock headed out to the great Glade in the forest.

Setting up the gathering was an event in itself some three days long. Sweating along with most of the other apprentices and lesser trades folks you helped repair the great log lodge that had stood at the edge of the glade for many a year. While others dug the great fire pits for the feasting and others less salubriously were tasked to dig the great latrine trenches behind the Ale-sellers booths!

As you worked you saw the first of the other races arrive. A few Halflings drifted in offering to help with everything but not seemingly to be actually doing anything, but still they were welcomed. All the world knew that having a Halfling about somehow meant things would go smoother and there would be less cut fingers and mashed thumbs from the construction of the Tents and boothes for the ever arriving traders.

Six elves arrived next from the distant grove where it was said the silver birches there at it centre shed actual leaves of silver on each full moon that the elves picked up and fashioned into their curious coinage. Wistfully you wished you could see that even if it was but poetry instead of truth.

Ten dwarven crafters arrived on the second day of the set up. They perfunctorily acknowledged the rest then set about unlocking the stone cottages their Kind had erected years before and soon smoke was billowing from the small forge set into the side of the workshop building.

But this year it had gone horribly, despicably wrong. It had not seemed over much at first. A Message from Prince Jawarhdeen that his entourage would be unexpectedly late was the first hint all was not as it should have been. While it was regrettable that the leader greatest of the Human settlements in the area would be late it was not enough to put a damper on the feeling of expectation and celebration.

Then on the eve when most of the remaining two villages would send out their wains of goods and tradespeople. A rumour came to your ears that the Mercenaries that operated out of the old Manor House some five miles from the Festival glade had been slain by parties unknown. The sudden thought that a stronghold of such hard bittern warriors could be so overrun caused many to question performing the festival at all this year. Especially if the Prince and his honour guard were going to be late in attendance!

Fears were somewhat allayed when two riders bearing the colours of the free warriors of the Mercenary company rode into town and scotched the rumour of their sudden demise. No, instead they told a different tale that their chapter house had merely undertaken a long term and exclusive contract and would not have soldiers to spare for guarding the festival this year. Unless of course the worthies of the town knew of a few adventurous lads & lasses that might want to join the freebooters merry band of cutthroats. If a village sent any “recruits” they could as a courtesy probably spare a few men to watch the festival until the Prince arrive at least.

It is the day of your graduation, and your minds wander back to the strange events that have led you to this even stranger fate:

The summer gathering was an event looked forward to be nearly all of the local communities. The three human dominated towns hosted a joint summer festival with food and drink if not free certainly readily and cheaply available to any that attended. Indeed the cheap prices were to attract trade and allowed those new in their crafts to show off their skills under the anonymity of the fair.

As with most years a small delegation from the Dwarven Hill fort and the Elf groves not far distant had turned up a token gesture of neighbourliness. The revel didn’t do much for them and the trade goods that the Humans displayed were not especially exciting to either race. But some of the vintage wines and Ale always got some appreciative custom from them at least!

And then there were the Halflings. They always sent a goodly compliment to the fair (often uninvited) who sampled any and every thing they could and by and large paid for it, so it wasn’t so bad. There own booths of Ciders and Pipe-weed were well attended my most as well.

All and all it was a pleasant week or so culminating with the great bonfire and swearing of friendships between the free folk of the region for another year.

It is the time of the Summer gathering! All your friends and neighbors from the surrounding communities are coming to the great glade to talk to trade to re establish friendships for another year! Even delegations from the Human towns, the Halflings, Hill Dwarves and even the Forest Elves are to be there adding their exotic wisdom (and more exotic Booze!) to the celebrations!

You are all in a high and expectant mood as you make your way to the Great Glade for this annual event. Some are bringing their best trade goods hoping to make a few silvers (or even…. a GOLD piece!) when the Trading begins in earnest after the celebration commences.

All the major trade guilds will have a factotum present: Woodworkers, Metalsmiths Scribes and Tanners and more. Not the “Mercenaries Guild” as per usual however. Those sell swords might break out in hives if they did anything for free – even if it brought them more business as guards and escorts later.

But then some folks have no head for business now do they. They will not be missed!

The only disappointing note is that Prince Jawarhdeen has announced that due to matters of state he and his entourage will miss the first three days of this week long celebration. A shame to be sure, as there is less time to, just maybe, catch the royal eye, but nothing is going to spoil the communities enjoyment of the day among friends.