Old Yomber’s squad lived in small buildings with their spouses and children within the outpost’s walls. It had not been hard to find two beds for Harendrich and Weldorich. The problem was how to keep this place safe and with enough supplies. Fortunately, Fivandreth Andoren would come with his four soldiers with supplies and medicine. They would be ten soldiers, which would be plenty enough to hold their tower in case of an attack. On the frightening side of things, however, the possibility of the squad facing an ambush from a group which was much more bold than usual bothered Yomber.

Today, his shift was not before supper, which meant he had free time. As he so often did, he divided his time in four. First, he would go up the tower and pray in silence. Truth be told, it was not really a prayer, as he did not address any words or thoughts to the god of the Kastosians; rather, he contemplated and sought peace. Once feeling refreshed, he would pray and then move down to the second floor of the tower, where the weapons were, and train for a time inside. The rest of his day would be spent in cleaning the tower and finally preparing the food for his squad brothers.

As a Fivandreth, he had the responsibility of maintaining the squad’s unity, but that did not give him the kind of authority which made one a superior over others. He could give orders to his men, and he was indeed their leader, but they were the ones who took decisions which he, in turn, made sure they were applied. In other words, Yomberlos’ duty was to put into action the will of the squad. That duty had fashioned his character, and his men in turn saw themselves not as a squad, but as siblings. Not only did they care for each other, but the tower was, in a way, a home. No spouse was allowed to clean it, nor to cook in there. This tower was a home to five brothers who once a week slept in there instead than in their house.

On the second floor, where the weapons were, the mercenary was waiting for him.