Ianthe woke groggily with a screaming headache in the middle of the street curled up next to Maximus. The first thing she was aware of, was the pain in her head. The second was that she was incredibly thirsty and the third was that she stunk.

Rising wearily, the blue light of early morning guiding her way the mercenary went to a watering trough meant for horses and proceeded about the process of bathing, stripping away the heavy armor that she had been wearing for some reason. The last couple of days were just a drunken blur and she didn't remember much. It was about this time that Ianthe noticed the large patches of bloody dirt in front of the tavern.

"Ah shit, I'll have to pay for it if they lost any livestock," said Ianthe to herself. Checking her coin purse, her spirits immediately fell. "Ha. Out of money. Guess it's cut and run then. The gods must hate me. I knew I should have left a better offering before leaving Messalon. Not that I can fucking go back there," grumbled Ianthe. She finished bathing and grabbed a fresh set of clothes from her saddle bags. A new under suit for her armor, black form fitting fabric with a woolen vest over top to prevent chafing and drake skin pants.

"Excuse me, Captain Ianthe?"

"Yes?" answered Ianthe turning, hand on the hilt of her sword. She was startled to find an elf dressed in mottled colored clothing and two men dressed the same holding strange staves of wood and metal. The blood drained from Ianthe's face as she recognized the dress. These were the same soldiers who had slaughtered an entire army at Mt. Rubicon.

"Lieutenant Volkin is wishing to inquire about your services."

"M-my services?" asked Ianthe, merely giving herself time to think. These people already knew who she was and if their staves were anything like the ones that the metal behemoths had possessed they could kill her without any effort at all.

"Yes. He wishes to know how much it would cost to hire you and have you act as a scout for us. We don't have any food for your mount, but we would be willing to pay quite well for your services."

"How much is quite well?" asked Ianthe. She watched the blonde wood elf talk to the young man at her side for a moment in a strange language before answering her.

"He wishes to know how much you would want."

"Sixty silver pieces up front. If my services go beyond two months then it's extra. Plus all of my food, lodging and expenses to be taken care of besides. Also fair shares of battle spoils and promise of two hundred silvers in case of severe injury like loss of a limb or an eye" said Ianthe settling into negotiations. It was an outrageously high price to pay for a single mercenary, even a draconian cavalry mercenary. Most peasant families could get by on two to three silvers a month, especially when a mug of ale cost only five coppers. One silver if they had a small family and grew their own food. What she had asked for would have bought them at least two or three dragon mercenaries, more if they agreed to the battle spoils and severance pay. Then again, a dragon itself was worth a great deal of money.

"Lieutenant Volkin finds your offer agreeable. However he wishes to give you a gold coin to keep your services until they are no longer required," said the elf. Ianthe's mouth opened in shock.

"W...what?"

"The Lieutenant wishes for you to be ready to move in twenty minutes," said Luella handing Ianthe a gold coin. Ianthe took it numbly, mouth still half agape. A gold coin was worth a hundred silvers. She could buy a small hut, stable, and the plot of land if it was in a village like this with it. Not that she would ever settle in a dung heap like Blenheim.

"Yes. Yes, I will be ready to move. Tell the young lord that I will serve him faithfully and my sword is his to command while I am under his employ," said Ianthe.

"That's very kind, but the Lieutenant isn't a lord, they don't have them," said the Elf, not relaying the message to the mottled men.

"They don't have lords?" asked Ianthe as if the elf had just told her that moon was going to fall from the sky.

"No. Even their General is of common birth and he commands a vast army. They're from the other side of the gate from a land called the Soviet Union. They also call themselves the Red Army."

"So, they are the ones who massacred the army of Legatus Severus," mused the mercenary with false candor. hiding a quiet and solemn mood settling over her, drowning out her exuberance at the wealth. The men she would be working for would be of the army that had butchered her mercenary company, her comrades, her friends. She was a mercenary so switching sides was common when the money ran out, but what would her friends think of her for joining the ones responsible for killing them? More importantly, did she have a choice? They would most likely kill her if she reneged on their deal now.

"They are, but they responded only in defense after a legion was sent through the gate to their lands to conquer them."

"Fair enough then eh? Go to war expect there to be a good chance at dying I suppose. No sense getting upset about it. Tell the lord, um, lieutenant that I'll be ready to move in ten minutes."

"Of course," said Luella cheerily. "I'm happy that you'll be traveling with us Ianthe."

"How do you know my name anyways? Were you guys, um, looking for me after the battle at Mt. Rubicon?" asked the silver haired mercenary somewhat hesitantly.

"Oh no, you told me yesterday in the tavern, but you were drunk."

"Oh yeah," said Ianthe slowly as if her memory was returning to her. "There were...Empire soldiers there right?"

"Yes, but Lieutenant Volkin and his men killed them all."

"Really? All of them? How many did they lose doing that? Must have been at least 20 of them for a normal patrol squad."

"They didn't lose anyone, and they killed 21 of them. Anyways we'll be waiting for you at the north end of the village by the vehicles. See you soon!"

Ianthe watched them go and sighed wearily, going to Maximus who was waking up, letting out a blast of hot air in a snort and letting out a low groan. Keeping his slitted eyes firmly closes against the morning light.

"That's what you get for drinking so much. Ah boy, what have we gotten ourselves into Maximus?" asked Ianthe rubbing the dragon on the snout. "Best to be on the winning side anyways, and gold fits much better than silver." Flicking the coin into the air, she watched it spin end over end, catching the light of the sun, before snatching it out of the air and then putting it into her pouch. Whatever her friends may have thought of her, money was money and it was preferable to dying. Much more preferable.

--

Feliks was riding on the roof of the BTR, watching for the mercenary Ianthe to come back into view. Ever since picking her up the other day she had proved to be well worth the money. She would fly around and ahead of the convoy scouting for anything that could potentially be a threat. They had found one small patrol, only four men and Feliks was surprised at her discipline for a mercenary. Instead of rushing in for an easy kill to loot the bodies of any valuables, she had come back to the patrol group and made a report, asking for further instructions. When they stopped for the night she had left briefly to hunt for food for her dragon. The bloody mouth of the beast immediately told of a successful hunt upon its return.

Everyone had wanted a picture with the dragon, so they had taken time to quickly arrange the vehicles and men so that it could all be in the shot. Several of the men had asked multiple times if it was safe to stand close to the dragon and after reassurances from the mercenary via Luella some of the braver ones had even sat on the creature for the picture. Needless to say, as soon as the dragon made as if to stand up or even let out a grumble, the men had scattered like startled rabbits, much to the amusement of the mercenary.

The mercenary seemed to have a natural gift for languages, after only a day she knew a few basic phrases in Russian, mostly for food or water or to be handed something. She had learned one word quickly though, 'enemy'. She didn't say it too often but when she did she said it with breathless anticipation and urgency.

The land that they were traveling through seemed to come straight out of a fantasy novel. Besides the somewhat modern road, the land, unless right by a village, was not developed in the slightest, leaving either large fields overrun with shrubs, tall grass, and bushes, bordering the road. Or else forests that had probably never had a human being wander through them, thick with intertwining roots as thick as his thigh with no two trees the same. There was no wildlife though, too startled by the sight and sound of the Soviet vehicles to make their presences known, survival instincts taking over where knowledge was lacking.

Feliks ran a hand through his dark red hair, checking over the map again. Their final destination was a hill some four hundred nautical miles to the north yet. The locals called it Alnus hill, but something didn't feel right about it. They were supposed to head South initially, but the day before they were to leave they were sent in the exact opposite direction and given new coordinates. There was something command wanted them to see, or something they wanted them to find out. It screamed of secrecy, something Feliks had transferred to the regular army to avoid. Whatever it was it was going to be dangerous and possibly lethal to him and his men. He would slow their advance when they got within a hundred nautical miles of the hill. They'd travel cross country, off the main roads and out of sight. It would take longer, but every instinct in him was screaming danger by looking at that hill.

A shadow passed over him and Feliks looked up, seeing Ianthe and her dragon Maximus swoop up overhead, then pass low, matching speed with the convoy. Feliks watched Ianthe perform her stunt again, balancing standing up on her mount after unhooking her tether, before jumping off and onto the roof of the BTR next to Feliks. Her steel armor shining brilliantly in the noon day light. The dragon sped up, before landing on top of the PT 76 at the lead of the column, folding its wings in on itself. The light tank sinking visibly lower on its suspension with the added weight of the dragon.

"Money," said Ianthe in her quick cadenced accent. The look on Feliks's face made her shake her head and her face creased in concentration before speaking again. "Enemy money," corrected the mercenary, pointing ahead of the column into the distance.

"I understand," said Feliks using his limited knowledge of the local language, bringing a quick smile from the mercenary. Despite the medieval conditions of the world, her teeth were still white and strong. The mercenary was also warmly dressed despite the fact that it was a rather mild day with a heavy woolen vest below her breastplate. Made sense though, where she would be at, it could be as much as ten degrees centigrade colder than on the ground, plus the wind would bite hard. Opening the hatch, Feliks slid into the BTR, Ianthe following close behind. However, as she was lowering herself down, the BTR hit a large bump in the road causing her to lose her footing. She yelped as she slipped and was almost drawn under the heavy duty wheels of the APC, but Feliks lunged out and hooked his arms under her armpits.

The metal edges of her armor dug into his arms, while hers wrapped quickly around his neck, her feet kicking in empty air. Practically nose to nose with the girl, he was almost pulled out of the BTR himself holding her up and away from the spinning wheels. Feliks pulled and leaned back into the BTR, quickly finding himself aided by the Boris, the large man hauling them in as if they weighed no more than a sack of grain. Feliks and Ianthe fell heavily to the floor, the metal clad mercenary falling on top of him.

Resigning himself to the bruises he would get, Feliks saw the pale face of the mercenary above him, color quickly returning to her cheeks.

"Good?" asked Feliks. Ianthe smiled, and did a two fingered gestured which Feliks had been told meant yes, or good.

"Next time sir, I suggest we stop the column when the lady gets back so she doesn't become roadkill," said Boris, helping both of them into their seats.

"Agreed," said Feliks, rubbing his shoulder where the metal breastplate had dug in. "Ill take in your age old wisdom I suppose."

"Yes sir, not fair that I can't rib you now that you're an officer sir."

"Sure you can," said Feliks. "We're not in front of the men."

"Nah, too disrespectful sir. Can't teach an old dog new tricks. So why is she back anyways?"

"Well she says that there's enemy money ahead."

"Really?" asked Boris.

"Ianthe says that there's a tax collectors caravan ahead, with twice the normal amount of guards which means that it's carrying a lot of money," said Luella, quickly translating for the mercenary.

"Raising funds to form a new army maybe?" said Feliks.

"Oh sounds likely what's going on to me," added Boris.

"The Empire sent mostly mercenaries to the battle of Mt. Rubicon," added Luella. "Apparently they sent most of their regular army to a site further north, but I'm not sure where, along with the armies of the Allied Kingdoms."

"There's been heavy fighting in the North?" asked Feliks surprised.

"Yes. In fact from what I've heard at least twice the number of soldiers were mustered in the Northern Region than the Southern Region."

"Rebellion?" queried Feliks.

"I don't think so. I've heard some of the merchants we've met talking about a holy site that they were sent to try and retake. They said it was some kind of mountain or hill."

"Alnus Hill?" said Feliks with sudden avid interest.

"Yes, that was the name, Alnus hill. They say it's of the same religious standing as Mt. Rubicon. How did you know the name?"

"Because, that's where we're headed and if what you've told me is true then there may well be an army of some 300 000 there."

"Well between 200 and 300 thousand combined Empire and Kingdom forces," clarified the elf helpfully. "But with Ianthe with us now, we won't have to worry about running into them without us knowing."

The silver haired mercenary perked up at the mention of her name, looking between the elf and Soviet officer quickly, obviously wanting to know what they were talking about.

"About the money though, we're sure that it's going to be used to hire more mercenaries or pay soldiers? I don't feel quite right being a highway bandit," asked Boris

"Yes. My village's dealings with merchants and the surrounding townsfolk over the years let us know the habits of the Empire's tax collectors. They only come in the spring once a year, any more than that is when the Empire needs additional funds to fund their wars."

"Well then, that would make it our patriotic duty to make sure that the money in that caravan never reaches its destination wouldn't it?" asked Feliks.

"I believe that it would be sir," agreed Boris.

--

Luicius, Gaius the Third was a portly man of middling years and a middling bureaucrat in the Empire. The taxes had increased dramatically in the last few months, meaning that they were practically stripping these villages dry and the villagers were none too happy about it. It merited, no, necessitated the increased guard for his caravan. The dozen mounted legionnaires surrounding his caravan were meant as both a deterrent to local bandits and angry citizenry alike. There were to hit as many villages as possible, then head to the province's municipal headquarters to deposit the funds, then head out again to do it all over again. As many times as they could before the region was sucked dry and the Empire instituted a scorched earth policy to prevent the advance of a foreign army.

The army sent to Mt. Rubicon had contained a small contingent of the Empire's troops, but it had been composed mostly of auxiliaries and mercenaries. Reports were that that army had been completely decimated and as such another one needed to be raised in short order. The benefit being that since it was mostly mercenaries lost, it was no great defeat for the Empire in terms of manpower or equipment. Indeed, most of the money spent could be reimbursed now, because they could merely seize it from the skeletal remains of the mercenary companies and organizations. Those funds would now be used to hire even more mercenaries, from different companies obviously, to use against the forces arrayed against them at Mt. Rubicon. To who or what those forces were, Gaius did not know, but surely they were spent after fighting such a great army as had been sent against them?

Gaius reached down and opened one of the many strong boxes at his feet. He opened it with a sense of giddy excitement as the soft shine of silver washed over him. He reached in and took out a few coins, putting them within the pockets of his finely made tunic.

Every tax collector within the Empire took a little bit of the Imperial wealth for themselves and Gaius was no different. It was called leakage, and tolerated if not condoned by many of his peers. There was no reason to feel guilty when everyone had their hand in the cookie jar.

So enraptured was Gaius with the silver in his lap that he didn't notice that his carriage had come to a stop until he heard the gruff voice of his driver commanding someone to clear the road.

Gaius wasn't overly concerned by that. He had at least a dozen Imperial legionnaires with him besides his own half-dozen retainers, all well skilled with their weapons. No doubt it was some peasant who had broken the axle or wheel of their cart. They'd be moved aside in short order so that their betters could continue on their way.

The first sound was a loud crack that reverberated several times before it faded away, but before the last echo had disappeared, leaving Gaius looking around in confusion, a barrage like firecrackers erupted all around. But this was louder, more forceful, accompanied by the terrified whinnies of pain from horses, and frightened, pained cries torn from bloody throats.

Gaius had his hands up, instinctively around his head to protect himself and cried out when something passed through his carriage leaving a neat hole in either side of it, save for a few splinters of wood. It hissed as it passed, like a serpent. The cacophony from outside lasted only a few moments, but it felt like hours to Gaius inside of the carriage, cowering amongst the satin furnishings, pulling his voluminous robes about his head like a child with their bedding.

It took minutes after the sounds stopped before Gaius worked up the courage to leave the safety of the carriage floor to look outside. Rising slowly from his position on the floor, Gaius pulled back the satin curtain on his window slowly, and screamed when he saw a being with steel teeth grinning at him.

--

"That is a lot of money," said Boris whistling slowly. "Think we should take some?"

"Not a coin sergeant," said Feliks closing the strongbox and putting it in a pile with the other. The rest of his men, the ones who hadn't set up a perimeter were stripping the dead guards of swords and extra armor from the saddlebags of their dead mounts. Souvenirs to take home no doubt, with a few of them even swinging the blades around experimentally.

Vitsin looked particularly enthused, the blonde medic even doing a flourish with a blade before it flew from his hand, causing Grekov to chastise him rather colorfully for a moment, before realizing that there was a lady in the form of a petite elf present and censored his speech accordingly.

Regardless though they were having fun which was important, gave them a chance to unwind and relax. They hadn't been in any real danger in any of their engagements, well, save for the dragon in the tavern, but his men had still killed. They were young, proud, macho, and wouldn't say it was bothering them, but he could see it in the way they stared at the bodies of the dead Imperial soldiers that they were disturbed with it to some degree. Many maybe trying to moralize it, or perhaps angry at themselves for feeling bad about it to begin with.

They had been blooded together though and these men would be living together every moment of every day for the foreseeable future. Those combined things would see them become family to each other and they would help each other through it, talk about it when they thought no one else could hear their doubts and grow closer and stronger as a result. They would do that if they remained a healthy functioning unit. It was when they broke down and the unit quit working as a team that things would get toxic, but it was Feliks' and Boris' job to make sure that didn't happen.

"Yes sir," answered the veteran dutifully, but watching the strongbox all the same. "You might have some trouble with that one though," added Boris tilting his head in the direction of the silver haired mercenary eying the money hungrily from an oak tree not too far away.

"I suppose I did say something about giving a share of war spoils," said Feliks.

"So she's getting some then I take it sir?"

"Of course sergeant, don't you know? We serve from patriotic duty and love of the Motherland. Our duty and satisfaction of our service is all the payment we need. She serves for empty and shallow capitalistic reasons so she needs cold and empty silver coins to fill her empty soul."

"If I can have some silver I will put on a top hat, open a factory, and become the most oppressive capitalist you've ever seen," said Boris wryly.

Feigning shock, Feliks held a strongbox to his chest and pantomimed deep hurt.

"Comrade! To sell out our glorious socialist undertaking is just, good heavens! The scandal!"

"Don't quit the army sir, your acting is damned awful."

"Duly noted Sergeant," said Feliks, walking to the mercenary who immediately perked up as he approached. Taking a business approach, she held up seven fingers when he was within a few paces from her.

"Mine," said the mercenary simply.

"No."

Frowning the mercenary seemed to ponder a response for a moment before holding up five fingers.

"Yes?"

"No," said Feliks again, amused at the scowl that made its way onto her face. Ianthe held up three fingers.

"Good?"

"No, not good," said Feliks, amazed at how expressive the mercenaries face was, like a mirror to her inner thoughts which at the moment were somewhere between kicked puppy and left out in the rain.

"One?" asked the mercenary, holding up a solitary finger like a beacon of hope.

"Yes."

The mercenary held out her hand, seemingly nonplussed, waiting for her solitary silver coin, her fingerless gloves showing a pale, but calloused and tough set of fingers used to earning their keep with the hilt of a sword. Feliks filled that hand with the entire strongbox.

"Yours," said Feliks, watching the momentary confusion on the mercenaries face switch to unrestrained glee and Ianthe flashed a wide and white smile, hugging the strongbox close, before in her excitement began dancing around with it.

"Well you made her happy," said Boris.

"I did."

"Why did you give her so much?"

"Well because, we can't take the money without having a legitimate use for it unless we want to get a court martial for banditry and if I pay her well she's going to work even harder for us. Plus we won't have to worry about her running out on us or betraying us if there's a chance that she'll get another bonus like that."

"She's throwing the coins in the air like rain."

"I know," said Feliks grinning.

"Look at that you dog, buttering her up before you cozy up to inside her dragon's cave aren't you?" said Boris, elbowing Feliks in the ribs.

"What? No!" protested Feliks blushing hard.

"Kid, I swear just because you haven't used your gear doesn't mean you don't think with it. Still, she's your only shot now that Luella's off limits sir."

"Oh? How's that?"

"She may be old, but she's basically a teenager, sometimes she even acts like a little kid and there's no way I'm letting some mug like you make her grow up. Sir."

"Taking a paternal interest in her sergeant?"

"Yeah, she reminds me of my second daughter when she was that age. Well, not that age, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do," said Feliks. They stood in silence for a few moments before Boris broke it.

"So, why did you really leave the spetsnaz?"

"I don't think I know what you mean sergeant."

"Come off it sir, I've seen you in a fight a few times now. You aren't squeamish like some new recruit, hell you enjoy it. You don't miss when you shoot and you shoot to kill. You've killed people before and you don't hesitate when you have to do it again. What group were you in?"

Feliks sighed wearily.

"I'll tell you the group but that'll be the end of it until I want to talk about it again. Is that understood sergeant?"

"Yes sir."

"GRU."

"Ah. Did some nasty shit then didn't you sir?"

Feliks gave a slow nod.

"Sorry I brought it up then sir."

"Don't be, you have a right to know I suppose, just not all of it right now. "

"I'll be here when you're ready Feliks. What about all this then? Should we pack it up sir?"

"In a moment, Ianthe is amusing me right now," said Feliks grinning as he watching the mercenary laughing like a child and rolling around in a pile of silver.

--

Octavian woke slowly, felling drowsy and numb. His mouth was cotton ball dry and tasted faintly of medicine. It was hard to swallow and the room was dimly lit with a candle glowing warmly on a small table in the corner of the wooden room, dispelling the dark like a pries would banish evil. The window was dark though with thousands of pinpricks of starlight visible through the panes.

"My lord, you mustn't move, your wounds haven't healed yet." It was an older voice, wizened and raspy. The air stank of sweet smelling incense and wood smoke, hanging heavy and thick in the air. Captain Octavian groaned as he tried to sit up, but finding that even the old man was capable of holding him down with ease, much to his chargin.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Three days lord. I had feared that your wounds were too great, but your spirit was strong. It was wounds unlike any I've ever seen before on you my lord."

"My men, where are they?"

"All dead lord, you are the only survivor and your life hung by no more than a spiders thread for the past three days."

"Who, who did this? To me, to my men? Did they give their name, who they belonged to? All I remember is thunder claps and terrible noises and flashes of light."

"They called themselves the Red Army my lord. They drove wagons without horses and they growled like beasts, putting out a noxious gas. Their weapons were staffs of wood and metal that shot flame and thunder. From their direction I believe that they came from Mt. Rubicon."

"Mt. Rubicon? How did they get here so fast? It should have taken them longer to recoup their forces and gather fresh supplies. The orcs at the very least should have harried their advance, they're especially thick in that area," said Octavian, half to himself.

"I can not say my lord, there was only a few of them, no more than the number of men that you had yourself. Perhaps merely a scouting party?"

"Yes, yes that must be it. Tell me though healer, why was no action taken against the agents of a foreign power that attacked the Empire's soldiers?"

"We are simple farmers and merchants my lord, not warriors. There was nothing we could do that would not result in our own deaths. I was only able to save you from the brink of death by sheer will of the gods once they had moved on. I tried with several of your men, but their wounds proved too severe and they expired. I am sorry for my inability to help them my lord."

"No, no. You did what you could and had you resisted then you would be dead and so would I right now. I must ride though, at the very least send word about this," said Octavian, trying to rise from his bed but finding that he didn't have the strength.

"My lord you must rest for now. I have sent a carrier bird with information about what has transpired already. There is nothing else that can be done until your wounds heal. Were you to leave here in this condition you would not make it more than a few leagues at best."

"I fear that you may be right, but you're certain that you sent the bird to the correct location?"

"Yes my lord. One to the legion commander's fort, one to the governor, and one to the capital. One of them is bound to make it to its destination."

"Good, that is very good. I suppose that you are correct in your assessment. Were I to leave like this, I would not make it more than a few miles. I will rest then, until I am well enough to travel. I will need a horse though."

"I have one that you use when you are able. An old nag, but reliable and strong."

"You have my thanks healer, the Empire will compensate you for the beast I assure you."

"No thanks are required lord, merely become well again will be all the thanks I need. Rest now."

"Yes, I believe I will, thank you again," said Octavian, his breathing slowing as he drifted off to sleep. The old healer studied the legionnaire as he slept.

He was a young man, fit, strong, and from the looks of him from one of the conquered regions of the empire. His hair and complexion were fair, and on his muscular arms were tattoos that wrapped around the muscles in sharp points. Tribal tattoos speaking of his lineage. A man risen from the ranks to become an officer in the Empire's armies. Yet for all his youth and strenght, the strangest of woulds had been inflicted on him. Small pieces of metal, as if thrown from a sling, but with too much accuracy and too small of a size to be from a sling. The healer picked up one of the metal pieces from a small tray and looked at it. Just what made such things like these?

AN: Just so people know I only know the anime adaptation of GATE so I'm a little lacking in terms of the knowledge from the manga, so if some of the things you guys leave in reviews go over my head that's why.I have no idea about the goddess.

--

Im going to run out of ideas? soon?