So here we are, camp is being made after a long day's march. Spits are being set up over recently stoked cooking fires as privates and valets gather in water from the nearby stream for their units, and the washing women set themselves up downstream, occasionally calling out to the boys to make them blush for a change.
A million tasks all occurring together, various clerics prepare for their vespers at travel altars erected within the inner ring of camps, here and there lords whisper and discuss plans and the risks they must take, sergeants drill the rawest recruits in proper halberd tactics, especially crucial with their having just recently graduated to drilling with real weapons.
Up and down the pitch, men are distracted from their bellies as they march in formation, the red faced dwarf drilling them impressing how important keeping formation is by exploiting the gaps and windows in the fort formation, slipping in and out of their ranks, leaving welts and bruises to remind the men of the one pace that matters, that of the unit.
Away a bit, as the light begins to dim and the vanguard signals the first change of watch as sentries prepare their posts for the coming night. A lone man seeming to be one of the few people in the camp without some engagement, stopping and talking to the younger and more comely of the womenfolk, and receiving more than his fair share of slaps and laughter.
"Here woman! Who do you serve?" barked the Helvetian soldier as he grabbed the shoulder of a brown-haired seamstress.
"No, on second thought, I don't care if you're serving anyone, I'll buy you out from underneath of him"
"What would you have of me?"
"Our force has recently come to aid the Saint, and in our hurry we had to leave without an attendant for our captain. I'll give you five sovereigns now to go and wash before reporting to the largest tent in the camp with this flag flying" The man pointed to the central circle on the chest of his tabard.
"My master is a suspicious man, so leave your belongings with the guards at his door, they'll see them stowed in your corner of the tent"
~~~~~~
Korith cursed his luck as he sat looking at his monitor. Damnable technology was useful but the kinks in the system were far too numerous. He looked over at the bag for the midden. It had not yet begun to smell of decay, but the bodies of the captain and his maid-lover still caused his flesh to rankle at being in the same room. Even if he did happen to have killed them both.
"Now why'd you have to cut in like that?" He said, whacking the monitor as he lamented the paladins and their insistence on a paucity of camp prostitutes.
The monitor buzzed and crackled at this, spitting forth a part of its recorded memory.
"Korith, report, what's the meaning of this communique? Speak, man!"
"It seems we have a hole in our security, allow me to fill it, sir."
"Oh no, Lord, have mercy! Wait, You're not-!"
*a muffled shriek, some meaty thuds, and silence*
(At least I've done my part in keeping a child from entering this world without a father) Korith mused as he adjusted the skin of the face he was wearing. After a private dinner of the select cuts of captain, he wouldn't need to physically wear the skin to assume the disguise, having had the captain's blood mingle with his own, much more straight forward for battlefield conditions, after all.
Taking the place of a mercenary captain had its redeeming qualities though, he had to admit, as he took in the comely woman who had just entered to replace the maid in the bag his sergeant-at-arms had just removed.
"Fortunately we've already sent a lad along to the butchers, I'll take it braised in the wine you'll find by the brasier. If it's good, then you shall dine here with me..."
~~~~~~~
"Here's a little extra, keep an ear open and remain demure," the sergeant whispered into her ear as he closed a small purse in her hands and imparted her with instructions as to her duties and who to report to for payment before sending her in to tidy up and take the captains' request for dinner.
As for him, he hefted the bags to deliver to the midden, reviewing internally when he was to alert the guards to an assassin's attempt on his lord so as to explain the body when it was found.
Whistling he went into the early night, with the intention of finding better company after finishing his dirty work. He didn't suspect in the slightest that a fortunate midnight snack that would explain things for him.
~~~~~~~~
In the morning, the news of the mutilated washing woman circulated the camp. It was grimly met. The younger paladins ended up taking it particularly hard.
"So he's sending undead to strike fear into our nights, is he?" "Mordokai, what has happened to the man I loved? My Brother..." "What good is detecting evil if we forget to be vigilant against it?"
Spoiler
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Summary: Korith has infiltrated the camp disguised as the captain of a force sent/hired to aid The Saint's forces. Some macabre things have been done in order to assume said captain's identity in order to get closer to the Saint.
Coidzor is either part of that force or is also masquerading as one of them. And has hired a replacement maid for Korith after the last one, possibly pregnant by the captain, saw what Korith was and was eliminated. Who knows what she really is, since he was getting tired of looking. (speculation:potential entry point)
Fred runs his unit through their drills after camp has been made. (speculation: potential entry points in the unit, and potential story in their first engagement.)
The Saint and his cadre of paladins discover and lament the use of undead against them.
Pickman eats dead body.