Depthless Hunger

After years of training, Tusquo Agyama was a man with a sober awareness of his own limits. He was reasonably adept at the Path of Steel, not the best. Competent in Physique, not extraordinary. One of the more successful attempts to learn a Goralian Class, not a revolution. Well above the average warrior in Irun but well below the strongest on the continent.

Going out to confront a predatory mercenary group completely alone seemed essentially suicidal.

He actually wondered if they were overplaying their hand with this move, since even Birtaegalese mercenaries might suspect him. They considered themselves superior to Irunians but they were familiar enough with people hiding their power not to attack just anyone.

So Inafay and her immediate allies stayed in Brasyan, doing highly visible work to help rebuild one of the broken walls. Tusquo missed their presence, because they were all worthy warriors who would have made the fight more equal. This corrupt mercenary band was essentially a small army, including a dozen servants, twenty warriors, fifteen veterans, and four elites.

On his side, he had three people.

When the mercenaries saw him coming, they stopped their carousing to look at him. One of the veterans hopped off a wagon they were looting to approach him.

"Just a security operation," the man said. "Head on back. It isn't safe out here."

"I'm afraid I'm here on official business." Tusquo showed them his sigil of Irun. "In light of your recent actions, the city of Brasyan and the nation of Irun have decided to sever your contract. You are free to travel back to Birtaegal."

"Hey, you can't do that." One of the others lurched to her feet angrily. "We've saved your sorry hides. We fight for you, for a bunch of rubbish gold, and you just throw us out?"