~What rouses our troops to kill the enemy is anger.~
-Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Alele's troops ate well that night, a haunch of border guard roasted over a small pit fire. The taste of manflesh was hard to resist, it was harder to comeby in the old country, there were to many steady patrols and potential ambushes, but here in the outlands of the confederation, far from the major cities, there was plenty of opportunity and less opposition. As long as they struck to suddenly and killed to quickly for the guards to call for help, they had plenty of time. And border guards are usually not noted for their particular professionalism or skill. Usually the rejects are sent to the outlands, where they would do fine as long as nothing significant happened. Alele knew these good times wouldn't last forever though. The M.A. had very clever leaders, and when a village wasn't heard from at all, or a border station didn't answer its radio, well the atrocities would not go undiscovered for long, Alele couldn't be sure, but he strongly suspected that the M.A. wouldn't tolerate much more, they'd send out capable troops to patrol the region, more mettlesome and combatative than the ilk that currently was being devoured by a small group of heavily armed minotaurs. The meal was finished without incident, the bones and heads tossed aside, scraps of meat still clung to the ocassional leg or hand. but most had been completely devoured. Alele and his small troop departed, if he was right, this would be the last easy raid. The new troops would probably be much more watchful, and border penetration impossible without a skirmish.
They treked quietly back towards the Iron nation border, carrying the sacks of plunder, gifts they would give to their host country. Let the M.A. come after him if they wanted, he was very good at evasion.
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