Dem watched the camp from the overlook as Telo huddled beside him.
"Looks like more than six hundred," Telo muttered, having long since given up on counting heads.
"Six hundred soldiers, for sure," Dem said. "But then you add support: blacksmiths, cooks, stablemasters, companions…"
"Companions?" Telo looked sharply at the camp. "Surely you don't mean—"
He scanned harder, confused. "You messing with me?"
"Yes," Dem said, grinning. "But I heard the Beast Empire really does that."
He nodded at the movement below. "It's noon, and they're finally leaving the beach."
Sure enough, horses were brought into a tight formation and trotted inland. Wagons, handcarts, and workers followed in a long, uneven line.
"Let's get closer in our beastkin forms and split up."
Dem stripped, waiting for Telo to do the same. His eyes darkened to black, then bled red.
"Escadomai."
Two beasts — a red fox and a black rat — closed in on the caravan.
The fox crossed between wagons without a single person noticing.
Dem darted ahead, catching up to the mounted soldiers within minutes.
"Another fight last night," a skinny man with a swollen eye complained to the plain-faced woman beside him.
"Our group was less than two hundred before," she said. "Lord Feran brought in those southerners from the Capitol to fill the ranks."
Her expression stayed neutral, but her tone dripped disapproval.
"Captain Feran," the skinny man corrected.
Dem stayed near the rear of the horse soldiers, listening as the teamsters rambled about apple brandy, gossip, and a brothel called the Golden Lilly — apparently renowned across Khomane.
Satisfied, Dem slipped behind a wagon, found Telo in fox form, and then rejoined him later after they dressed and retrieved their horses.
Together, they circled east to get ahead of the mercenaries.
"How'd fox form work for scouting?" Dem asked.
Telo was still grinning. "Hearing's sharp. Scents I can't even name. Everything's bright — a bit overwhelming."
"You'll get used to it. What else?"
"This force is thrown together," Telo said. "Khoman's split between North, South, and East culturally. No West — don't ask me why."
"And they don't like each other," Dem added. Even in transit, there were subtle digs between the groups.
"They've got bathing tents," Telo said smugly. "Mixed bathing. Yesterday's brawl would've turned bloody if two ships hadn't burst into flames. Full losses, by the way — good work."
"I heard similar chatter," Dem said. For all that the Sentries came from nine clans, they had almost none of this division. "They also have a scout attachment. The two we met belonged to it. Rumor is they're off 'drinking and whoring.' Quote."
By the time Dem and Telo caught up with the Black Crows again, the mercenaries were making camp exactly where Toman had predicted. This time they placed perimeter guards and secured their horses in a shielded curve of the valley.
Dem and Telo lay flat along the ridge, observing.
"I count four wagons heavier than the rest," Telo whispered. "What do you think they're carrying?"
"Water," Dem guessed. "I'm getting a closer look. I want you to scout their chain of command — skills, abilities, and intentions."
Telo side-eyed him. "All that? And what will you be doing?"
"Checking the wagons. Destroying them if needed."
"Stop," Dem said, shaking his head when Telo began undressing. He tossed him the singlet vest with the sigil of a black crow.
Telo held it up, horrified. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
"We just went over it. Scout the compound."
Dem fished out a helm and boots from the dead guard. "Put these in your ring. Once we're inside, change back into them."
"You want me to walk around in there?"
"Yeah," Dem affirmed. "Lots of unfamiliar faces — you'll be fine."
"I should be fine?" Telo muttered, packing the clothes away.
"And try not to talk," Dem added. "Or pick one phrase and stick to it. Your accent is… well, horrifying."
"It is?"
Dem nodded. "Try saying 'fuck off.'"
"Fuck off!"
Dem snorted. "Okay, don't say that. Something else."
"Shut it," Telo growled.
Dem winced. "Shut it."
"Isn't that what I said?" Telo frowned.
"Not really. Try again."
"Drop dead," he muttered.
"Oh… not bad. Again."
"Drop dead." Telo crossed his arms.
"Passable. Let's go." Dem grinned. "We walk in and walk out like we belong. If in doubt, hit someone. Oh — and flicking your thumb under your chin is considered obscene. Might want to try that."
Telo nodded. "Got it."
Dem waited until he was ready. His eyes turned crimson. "Escadomai."
They separated instantly.
Dem slipped into camp as a black rat, unseen, hugging shadows. Telo waited for an opening, then darted through the brush in fox form.
Dem circled near the heavy wagons and waited. After a few minutes, a red fox pranced into view, ears alert.
Telo appeared a moment later, hunched behind the wagon as he dressed. "Okay, let's do this."
Dem waited until Telo stepped casually into the tent city before moving.
The three heavy wagons had been shifted closer to the cook area.
Rat Dem slipped under the nearest, climbed a wooden wheel, and squeezed through a gap he'd clawed open. Inside, he slashed at the massive water barrel. The gush nearly bowled him over as he jumped aside and vanished into the shadows.
Across camp, Telo reached the mess tent. He grabbed a bowl and stepped into line, listening carefully. The dish was unfamiliar — spicy, savory, with a tongue-tingling heat.
"You there, move along!" a cook snapped. "Don't hold up the line."
"Drop dead," Telo growled, grabbing a handful of buns and stomping away.
He picked an empty bench and began eating. Slowly, he realized everyone was looking at him — some glancing, others outright staring.
He listened. Words like duty tent, latrine, and prepping detail floated through conversations. He didn't know the terms, but context gave him a working map.
One of the young women collecting plates approached. "You're sitting at the mages' table."
Telo shrugged.
"This is where the healers sit," she added, setting down a tray of wooden flatware — four of each.
He stared at it, then nodded and stood.
"Thank you," she said. "You're quite handsome…"
Telo nearly groaned. Any response would reveal him. He winked instead and left the tent.
A black rat popped its head up from behind a tent, just long enough to be seen.
"Dem?" Telo ducked behind another row of canvas. "They have healers. At least four. I'm heading to the duty tent — the square one with the wide flaps rolled up."
Rat Dem nodded and vanished. They'd agreed to regroup in an hour.
Twilight dimmed the camp as Rat Dem approached what had to be the commander's tent. He crept from the side — then froze. His senses prickled.
He retreated, approached from another angle — and felt it again.
The tent is warded, he realized. Heavily. Privacy and intrusion wards both.
Then shouting erupted—someone had discovered the ruptured water barrels. It wouldn't take long for them to recognize sabotage… and spies.
Dem retreated to their meeting point, spotting Telo strolling casually toward him — just as alarmed voices rose again.
This time, flaming arrows arced down into the compound, igniting several tents. A second volley followed, sowing chaos as the camp scrambled to put out fires.
And just like that, it was over.
In the confusion, both Dem and Telo shifted into beastkin form and vanished into the night.
Hours later, Dem and Telo sat beside a small fire hidden deep within a gully.
"That arrow volley had to be First Odun," Telo said. "They'll be hiding now. What's next?"
"We watch over the hidden oduns and run interference on any pursuit," Dem replied. "With their fresh water destroyed, they'll be forced to use the river."
Telo snorted. "Let's hope they enjoy the sage tea we prepared for them."
"Ideally, I want their healers taken out," Dem said. "Learn anything else?"
Telo nodded. "Latrine tent… yeah, not good. Just a bench over a long hole. Don't ask. The prepping tent is punishment duty — peeling potatoes, meal prep. The duty tent has the posted roster. I brought it."
Dem raised an eyebrow. "Did you eat while you were in there?"
"Yeah. The food's actually pretty good."
Day One Score:
Sentry Force: four tents burned, three water containers destroyed, three mercenaries wounded.
Black Crows: nothing to report.