‘Yes, Captain. Field Marshal Coehoorn had two armies under his command: The 4th Horse Army, commanded by Major General Markus Braibant, our school’s patron—’

‘Very good, Cadet Puttkammer.’

‘Damn toady,’ hissed Cadet Fitz-Oesterlen from his desk.

‘—and the 3rd Army, commanded by Lieutenant General Rhetz de Mellis-Stoke. The 4th Horse Army consisted of, numbering over twenty thousand soldiers: the Venendal Division, the Magne Division, the Frundsberg Division, the 2nd Vicovarian Brigade, the 3rd Daerlanian Brigade and the Nauzicaa and Vrihedd Divisions. The 3rd Army consisted of: the Alba Division, the Deithwen Division and… hmmm… and the…’

‘The Ard Feainn Division,’ stated Julia ‘Pretty Kitty’ Abatemarco. ‘If you haven’t ballsed anything up, of course. They definitely had a large silver sun on their gonfalon?’

‘Yes, Colonel,’ stated the reconnaissance commander firmly. ‘Without doubt, they did!’

‘Ard Feainn,’ murmured Pretty Kitty. ‘Hmmm… Interesting. That would mean that not only the horse army but also part of the 3rd are coming for us in those columns you supposedly saw. No, sir! Nothing on faith alone! I have to see it with my own eyes. Captain, during my absence you command the company. I order you to send a liaison officer to Colonel Pangratt—’

‘But, Colonel, is that wise, to go yourself—’

‘That’s an order!’

‘Yes, sir!’

‘It’s sheer lunacy, Colonel!’ the commander of the reconnaissance outshouted the rush of the gallop. ‘We might run into some elven patrol—’

‘Don’t talk! Lead on!’

The small troop galloped hard down the gorge, flashed like the wind down the stream’s valley and rushed into a forest. Here they had to slow down. The undergrowth impeded riding, and furthermore they were indeed in danger of suddenly happening upon reconnaissance troops or pickets, which the Nilfgaardians had undoubtedly sent. The party of mercenaries had admittedly stolen up on the enemy from the flank, not head on, but the flanks were certainly also guarded. The game was thus as risky as hell. But Pretty Kitty liked games like that. And there wasn’t a soldier in the entire Free Company who wouldn’t have followed her. All the way to hell.

‘It’s here,’ said the commander of the reconnaissance. ‘The tower.’

Julia Abatemarco shook her head. The tower was crooked, ruined, bristling with broken beams forming a latticework through which the wind, blowing from the west, played as though on a tin whistle. It wasn’t known who had built the tower here, in a wilderness, or why. But it was apparent it had been built a long time before.

‘It won’t collapse?’

‘Certainly not, Colonel.’

‘Sir’ wasn’t used among the mercenaries of the Free Company. Or ‘madam’. Only rank. Julia climbed to the top of the tower, almost running up. The reconnaissance commander only joined a minute later, panting like a bull covering a heifer. Leaning on the crooked railing, Pretty Kitty surveyed the valley using a telescope, sticking her tongue between her lips and sticking out her shapely rear. The reconnaissance commander felt a quiver of excitement at the sight. He quickly controlled himself.