‘Gods! Bral, what are you doing here? You nearly scared me half to death.’
Wordlessly Bral handed over the dispatch to the Mercenary Quartermaster, who took it eagerly, clearly grateful for a distraction from the strange company of mercenaries who were still waiting for the return of their papers.
‘Great, this is just what I need right now,’ he muttered over the paper and then turning to Bral. ‘Stay here, lad, I’m going to need you here to run orders round. How they expect me to be able to break camp at such short notice when I have to administer all manner of ill-organised and ill-disciplined odds and sods I have no idea.’ He turned back to the strange mercenaries and passed the now crumpled papers they had given him back into the grey-skinned man’s hand. ‘This looks just about in order
