Jurgen steadied himself. Time to see if the muster was complete, including the new arrivals. He made his way down the steep incline towards camp, and surveyed the scene: The company had set up camp in a small secluded valley, hemmed in on most sides by rocky cliffs, and slopes covered by thick thorny bushes.
Jurgen plumped himself down on the chair in front of his command tent, sitting behind a simple table. Next to him quartermaster Friderich was already eagerly scribbling away in the massive tome that contained the regiment's recordkeeping. In front of the table a line of soldiers extended through the camp. The regiment was fairly small - around 80 men, mostly pike and swordsmen, and a few crossbowmen - and had no real hope of keeping off a greenskin warband, but with any luck it would be plenty to ward off scouts and raiding parties, and slip back and forth across the Silver Road without being noticed. Jurgen looked at the men's faces; he knew most of them. They had either served under him for a long time already, or he had met a large number of them in Wissenburg, where it had been agreed to complete the muster on the other side of the mountainrange. He wondered how many of them had made (or survived) the journey, and whether they would even make it to 80 men. Still, if they didn't show, there'd be more coin to go around from their wealthy benefactor. Among them were also a number of men and dwarfs he did not recognise.
He watched silently as Friderich did the paperwork, and properly signed up everyone and handled the salaries and expenses, potential stipends for widows andsoforth. Jurgen occasionally exchanged glances with men as they came and went. Soon they could finally head out of the mountains.
Edited by the bearded one, 01 August 2016 - 02:36 AM.