Chapter 1

The walls of Quancho were thick and well guarded and the lookouts in the tall towers stayed alert and watchful. Archers at the ramparts were vigilant, and there was a garrison of three hundred well trained armed men.

They were practiced and ready for trouble, for the whole small rich country had been warned of the army their neighbor had gathered and trained. King Dasga of Perneath intended to ingest the Lagans and bring their whole country into his.

The peasants were resigned. Kings had armies and knights and they fought with each other. It had always been so. Occasionally they burned out a peasant farm or village, but it wasn't their real purpose. They wanted to subdue whole countries. Their wars were with each other and the peasants hid while the Kings and their men fought among themselves.

Even the merchant's trains were largely unmolested. What good was it to capture a rich country if the trade was killed off in the process? It was the walled cities that must be dealt with. They guarded the routes of trade and the borders.

These facts of life here had made my proposition to King Dasga attractive. My squad had been dumped into this middle-aged type world through no doing of our own. Unknown forces, unknown to us at least, had put us to sleep and when we woke we were somewhere else, we didn't know where, and we didn't know how it had been done.

Our Special Forces training and modern weapons made us the equal of an army of thousands here, but the war we'd been fighting was back on earth - at least we knew where we'd come from.

With three SAWs and three mortars we were formidable in this place and time. And whatever had put us here had made sure we'd stay that way.

When we woke, in a deeply wooded area, we had ammunition and supplies for a battalion, even a field kitchen. It was all stacked neatly, still on the pallets for an airdrop. Of course they were in much better shape than they would have been in real conditions, because they hadn't been dropped. They had been set down in place, gently.

Two weeks of recon and sneak attack secured native clothing for us, and one of our first discoveries had been the local language was perfectly understandable - in fact we could speak it as if we'd been doing so all our lives.

Someone was playing a colossal joke on us, someone with technology we couldn't hope to use or even understand, and a sense of humor which was simply bizarre.

Whether by blind luck or someone's or some thing's design, we were not far from Dasga's Court in his country's largest city of Blethule. Our reconnoiter done, we captured a small caravan, killed them all, and prepared for our entrance.

We unloaded enough of the goods to make room in the six wagons for some of our weapons, small arms only, since we didn't want a pitched battle inside the city.

We had no problems entering the gate and we were able to find a large inn which could take care of our wagons, our stock, and ourselves. Two days and nights of being nosey and listening carefully in the inn's common room earned us enough information, and after midnight the next night we went to visit King Dasga, in his bedroom.

Our training and experience let us in via a servant's door and we were even able to subdue, bind, gag, and hide the three different guards we encountered along the way without having to kill them.

Of course, King Dasga was upset with us at first and the two concubines in his bed were terrified, but as I made my proposal his anger first diminished and then disappeared.

When the sun rose King Dasga sent word for a carriage to be readied and even before the royal breakfast he, I, and the two men who'd accompanied me into his castle departed for one of his sheep farms. I think it was probably less than three miles from the city.

Once we'd arrived and the King had ordered the shepherds around a bit, I strolled out toward about fifty or so grazing sheep and emptied my Glock 34 into them, killing one with each shot, even as they panicked and scattered.

King Dasga was impressed with our magical weapons but not awed yet, so I had Jorgenson approach a different bunch, some distance away, and toss the milling sheep a grenade. After a perfunctory body count, King Dasga was now in complete awe.

"If further proof is required, my king, you can gather a company of your soldiers and I will demonstrate on them," I said.

Further proof was not required, and on the way back to his castle for our delayed breakfast, I explained to the king what I could do for him.

Two weeks later our stolen caravan, slightly enhanced with additional wagons courtesy of King Dasga, entered Quancho's main gate. The alert guards barely noticed us, since we weren't attacking, and they weren't there to regulate trade.

We found an even nicer inn this time and by the next morning Jenkins and Statler had rented a space in the market and begun offering our wares. They also kept their ears open for any loose information. Jorgenson, Jones, and Frankston were circulating through the market searching for men of, shall we say, disreputable appearance.

Chungi was what I would call a ragamuffin. Apparently he was also an aspiring sneak thief. He stepped much too far up in class when he tried to cut Frankston's purse. With an iron grip around Chungi's slim neck, Frankston escorted him to our inn to make my acquaintance.

The innkeeper became a little uppity over Frankston's guest, but three coppers soothed him so he brought Chungi a bowl of the meaty stew we were having for our lunch.

I didn't even bother to try questioning him in public, I just watched him inhale four bowls of the stew. After which he wanted to leave, if possible, because he hadn't secured any income with which to feed his mother and older sister.

I invited him up to our rooms, but he didn't really want to accompany us. Frankston's firm grip around his neck encouraged him to cooperate.

After a short discussion with Chungi, during which he did not receive the beating he was expecting, I convinced him to fetch his mother and sister to the inn, where we would provide for their care and feeding.

At first he assumed we wanted them for sexual entertainment, but we were able to convince him we needed his expertise around Quancho and that when we left we would need his mother and sister as cooks. I could tell he was finally convinced it would be an excellent opportunity for his families' advancement, but he was still hesitant for some reason.

"What is the trouble Chungi? You know you'll all be much better off traveling with us instead of starving in Quancho."

It finally came out that Chungi had been less than forthcoming with us. Besides his mother, Shealta, and his sister, Reenalta, he had a six-year-old brother, Datula and an eight-year-old sister, Preeniestee. Finally he added revelation of his sixteen-year-old cousin, Sheleata, too. They all lived together behind the back wall of a different inn's stable yard.

Strangely, Chungi was most reluctant to bring Sheleata to join us. I decided she must be a prime candidate for rape and pillage and mostly rape. It took a lot of convincing to get Chungi to agree to try and bring them all.

Going back downstairs with him I buttonholed the innkeeper, even though he didn't actually have buttons. I payed him two weeks in advance for three more rooms and made sure Chungi understood the rooms were for his extended family.

I also made sure the innkeeper knew in advance his new tenants would probably be dressed rather rudely.

No doubt said innkeeper could not fathom the reason I was taking in a family of street trash, but he could see I had money to spend and he offered to have his wife secure suitable clothes for them, at a modest profit no doubt.

Chungi returned with his skittish entourage about an hour and a half later and even forewarned the innkeeper was dismayed. Using more tact than I'd expected he offered to take them to their rooms at once and have a hot meal brought up to them.