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me. Until then, keep out of my face and let me do my job.”
    The captain bobbed his head in agreement.
    “Now salute your subordinate like a proper officer of Cygnar instead of a petulant child.” Madigan stepped away, snapped to, and saluted crisply. “Thank you, Captain!”
    Schafer returned the salute. His hand quivered just a bit as it reached his brow. “That’ll be all, Lieutenant Madigan. Carry on.”
    Laddermore had suggest he tread lightly around Captain Schafer . . . Sadly, that was Madigan’s idea of “lightly . ”

    Sergeant Kelvan Cleasby reported to his new duty station to discover they were living in a slum. In fact, to call this barracks a slum would be to insult proper slums. The building was really more of a barn currently unfit for livestock. It even had gaping holes in the shingles and pigeons living in the rafters. When he opened the front door, it promptly fell off the hinge.
    “Hello?” he called. “Anyone home?”
    Lieutenant Madigan came around a corner, looking presentable in a new uniform and even wearing the rare Star of Valor he’d earned. Cleasby’s new orders had been rushed, so he hadn’t been sure who his new commanding officer was supposed to be. Madigan must have found out about Cleasby reporting his bounty violation, and this was to be his punishment. So this is what it feels like when your career dies, he thought as he saluted.
    Madigan waved off the salute and said, “Welcome to the Sixth Platoon, Cleasby. You’re late.”
    “I’m sorry, sir. This barracks was rather difficult to find, the way it was hidden between a slaughterhouse and the cattle pens.”
    “Only the best for Sixth Platoon.”
    “Sir . . . May I ask why I’m—”
    “No. Familiarize yourself with this.” He handed Cleasby a clipboard with a list of names on it. “Now hop to. We’ve got some recruiting to do.” Madigan strode out of the room. Cleasby dragged his equipment to the side, leveraged the door into place so it was approximately closed, and then rushed after his new commanding officer.
    Sixth Platoon’s barracks wasn’t located in the military district with the rest of the army, but with the spin up to the invasion, the city was filling with troops. It was quite a walk across the busy streets of Caspia to get back to the main body of the army, and Cleasby was curious as to why they were stuck so far outside the regular boundaries. Then he scanned the list Madigan had given him and came to a terrible realization.
    “Sixth Platoon is to be made up of criminals and madmen!”
    “Indeed,” Madigan snapped. “And you are one of their NCOs, so you’d better act like it. The first one that gives you trouble, you’ll need to bust his head to set an example of proper military discipline.”
    “That’s rather unorthodox.” Cleasby jumped out of the way as several massive trollkin in colorful tartans crossed the street. Then he hurried to catch up with Madigan, who walked at a very fast pace.
    “When you’re dealing with such men, you can’t show weakness or they’ll eat you. Here.” Madigan handed Cleasby a letter. “See that this is telegraphed today. I need it delivered immediately.”
    Cleasby looked at the address. “Five Fingers?” The Ordic city was well known as a base for pirates, mercenaries, and sell-swords. “Why Five Fingers?”
    “Just do it.”
    “Yes, sir.” Cleasby tucked the paper into his bag and rushed to catch up to his new commanding officer.
    When they reached the edge of the military district, Madigan paused. “Now, which way is the mechanik’s yard?” he muttered. The area was a sea of blue uniforms and commotion.
    Cleasby looked back at the list he carried. “Most of the men on here are in the brig, sir. It’s right over there—”
    “Not yet. When you build a house, you lay the foundation first. You put up walls with no foundation, the walls fall over. Now hurry up. I hear hammering over this way.” Madigan pushed his way through the