Two warriors with short blond hair accompanied King Prandia and a guard of honor to where Hansen sat on a camp stool in his open tent.
"This is my marshal," the king said. "He'll formally enroll you in our forces."
Hansen held in one hand a dispatch from Wolf Battalion which he was reading while he sipped broth from the wooden bowl in the other. Arnor and Culbreth were nearby on a felled log. They rose, and the coterie of lounging servants and freemen jumped to attention.
Hansen put down the tablet of planed wood. He continued to drink his soup, watching his visitors over the edge of the bowl.
"Marshal Hansen!" Prandia called. "Excellent luck! Even in this near wasteland there's a pair of warriors who want to join us against Solfygg. And better yet—"
"They both have royal suits," Hansen supplied.
His sidemen, Arnor and Culbreth, looked at him.
King Prandia blinked in amazement. "How did you know that?" he asked. "Did you see them come in?"
"I'd been expecting them," Hansen said dryly. "Though I thought they might have tried to join one of the other battalions."
"Then you know them?" the king said, increasingly puzzled in finding his marshal knowledgeable—and cold when Prandia expected enthusiasm.
Hansen finished his broth and stood up. "I'll deal with them, Your Majesty," he said. His voice was quiet, but the anger underlying it made all those in earshot blink.
The two warriors were stocky. They wore heavy fur cloaks, wolfskin and wolverine. Though their features were regular enough to be conventionally handsome, their eyes were hard.
Nearly as hard as Hansen's own.
"Lord Marshal," said the warrior in wolverine fur, "my name is Race."
"And your companion is Julius, I suppose," Hansen said grimly. Julia nodded meek assent.
Hansen glanced up at the sky. It still lacked an hour of sundown, though the ground among the great trees was in shadow.
"Let's the three of us go walk in the woods," he said in a neutral voice. He looked at his sidemen and said, "I'll be back in good time."
"Milord marshal?" called a courier, probably the man bearing Bear Battalion's situation report. "Later!" Hansen snapped.
Hansen walked for more than a minute in silence. The Searchers followed him, one to either side and a step behind.
A squirrel called nervously. Hansen stopped. A moment later the animal's chattering stopped also.
Confident that the rodent would warn them if anyone crept close enough to overhear, Hansen turned and said, "I appreciate what you two are trying to do, but you've got no business here. I hope you'll leave quietly. You will leave."
Race opened her mouth to object loudly. Julia touched her arm to silence her.
"We've been watching the Solfygg army," Julia said. "The state of training isn't nearly as good as yours, Lord Hansen—"
"Not as much difference in numbers as I would've thought, though," interjected Race, calm and professional again. "Solfygg has been planning for this war."
She grinned a hawk's grin. "But they didn't expect you to strike first, that I'll bet. They don't have all their levies in yet."
Julia nodded the interruption away. "They have seventy-three battlesuits as good or better than the ones you faced at Colimore."
Hansen winced despite himself. He felt as though he'd been punched in the pit of the stomach.
"We thought," Julia continued, "that you could use a pair of warriors with first-class armor."
"I really appreciate it," Hansen said. "But I can't accept your help. My arrangement with North—"
"This is no action of yours, Lord Hansen," Race said. "This is our choice, with nothing of you or any god to do with it.
The squirrel began to click and yammer in response to the Searcher's harsh tone.
"Well, let me put it another way," Hansen said coldly. "When North learns that you're fighting against his interests, he will punish you—rightly, to my way of thinking, because you've taken his service."
"That's our—" Race began.
"I won't have that happen on my account," Hansen continued, trampling her voice beneath the steel in his own.
"Lord Hansen," Julia said. She bit her lower lip, then reached out and took Hansen's right hand in hers. After a moment, he returned the pressure, then patted her and broke away.
"Milord," Julia continued, "at the end of the battle—and I expect you to win it, I would never bet against your ability, milord . . . but there won't be enough survivors to burn the dead. It will be like nothing until the Final Day."
"Lord Hansen," Race said softly. "Let us stand beside you. Please."
"No," said Hansen.
He stepped forward and put an arm around the hard shoulders of each woman to embrace them.
"But I won't forget," he whispered. "Some day you'll learn how much your offer meant to me."
Hansen walked back to the encampment alone. No one asked him about the two warriors.
No one who saw the controlled look on Hansen's face asked him anything at all until well after sunset.