It only took the quartet a few days to recover. After being taken care of by the kindly old fisherman, they set out to see what they could do to replenish their armies' numbers. They agreed to meet up outside Gibbous Rose cathedral with what recruits they gathered. Unsurprisingly, all came back empty-handed.

Nitesco sat down next to his teammates on a set of stairs. "This sucks."

"What's up?" Quixotic asked.

"I'm trying to recruit volunteers, but nobody wants to join us. Our numbers are too low right now for us to put up any sort of fight with more than a single platoon. We need people to join us, but I can't get anybody."

Austin sighed. "I'm having the same problem. Nobody has any enthusiasm for war; they don't have the willingness or desire to fight. Which is understandable, but if they don't fight they're all doomed. I've tried saying as much, but I suppose people don't respond well to pessimism." He rested his head on one of his hands and thought.

"We need someone they'll look up to," said Gwydion. "Somebody whose word is respected, revered, who people are glad to follow through thick and thin. But where could we find somebody like that?"

Quixotic shrugged. "The only people like that I can think of are clergymen, but I doubt that will help us here. We don't have any connections to Guns N' Roses religious organizations, so we won't be able to find that sort of help."

"Guns N' Roses religion…" Austin said to himself. Suddenly, his eyes went wide. He turned to Quixotic, who turned to him. The two whispered a few things back and forth, to the confusion of their teammates.

Finally, Austin spoke loudly enough for the entire group to hear. "Okay, I think this might work. It's crazy, but it might work. Quixotic, you go and find him some robes."

"I do know a few good robe places around here. I'll be back shortly." Quixotic walked quickly on his way, and then there were three.

"Gwydion," Austin said, "you go find a good platform one of us could speak from. Preferably in a very public area, like a market square."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do. I guess you can fill me in on what we're doing later." Gwydion went to seek out the perfect speaking spot, leaving Austin and Nitesco alone.

"Okay, what's going on?" Nitesco asked, somewhat worried. Austin grinned with unsettling excitement.

"Quixotic and I figured out a way we can attract volunteers. And the key to that is you, Nitesco. Your passion, your optimism, and your youthful energy, those are the things that will be the foundation of our resistance. You're going to make people not only willing, but eager to fight with us."

"But how am I going to do that? I couldn't even persuade a single person to join us, how can I—"

Austin cut him off. "Don't worry. There's a special way for us to get the support we need. I believe you can do this, as long as you don't let fear get the best of you. Now, here's the plan…"

An hour later, the stage was set. Nitesco stood overlooking Town Square, wearing a set of black and red robes that Gwydion had described as "snazzy." The clock struck five, and the hourly bells rang. Nitesco closed his eyes. He went over the most important lines he and Austin had come up with together and did what he could to calm his nerves. No fear, he thought. He remembered the last advice Austin had given him. Speak from the heart. Speak with the fire that comes from truth. Make yourself believe, and they'll believe too.

As the last ring of the bell echoed through the square Nitesco began his first speech to the masses.

"People of Guns N' Roses! Hear my words and understand! The Divine Roses wish to deliver a message of hope, and I am their voice!"

Watching from below, Austin and Quixotic couldn't stop grinning.

"This was a good idea."

"This was such a good idea."

Gwydion interjected. "Why is this such a good idea?"

"You might not have paid much attention to these matters when you lived here," Austin explained, "but the people of Guns N' Roses are very spiritual. However, they aren't too particular about the context of that spirituality. Different churches regularly compete for followers, and people are highly susceptible to conversion. We figured, why not throw ourselves into the mix? Perhaps this way we can get convince some pious individuals to join our ranks where we couldn't before."

Gwydion considered this for a moment. Then he nodded. "Yeah, this was a good idea."

As Nitesco's speech went on, he progressively drew more people into the listening crowd. His audience multiplied, from three to thirty to ninety. People broke from their normal routines to come and listen to what Nitesco had to say. He promised glory and great rewards for those who would stand and support the Roses, and that said Roses would bring about a future in which all would be happy and free. A future filled with Guns. A future filled with Roses. A future filled with Guns and Roses. The words he said drew their interest, but how he said them built their excitement. These people weren't used to such passionate speech, such eloquent words of apparent wisdom.

Nitesco had a gift.

He was allowed to speak unabated, as a few well-placed bribes from Quixotic had ensured that there would be no interference from city guards. Nitesco was able to make his sermon last a full two hours. Observers came and went, but there were always plenty of people listening. As people left, they found themselves approached by one of three men asking if they would be interested in supporting the movement Nitesco spoke of.

By the end of the day, the new religion of Team ANGQ had gathered a hundred followers, each of whom was ready and willing to seek out more. Soon, ANGQ could have an army with which to face the Council of Celtic. It seemed there was a chance for a true war. Once again, the four had hope for the future.

After the sermon ended and Nitesco had put normal-looking clothes back on, the four of them entered a tavern, taking a table in the back and ordering a round to celebrate their success as they prepared their next move. They laughed and bantered for an hour before Nitesco, unusually grim-faced, asked the question they were all thinking.

"Now what do we do? We have some followers, but we have to do more."

"I concur," Gwydion added. "We've made progress, but at this pace, Celtic will have the rest of the Subreddit under his control by the time we muster up half of what we had. Austin, do you have any ideas?"

Austin finished his pint before sighing deeply. "We need to boost our numbers further, quickly. I'll see if I can do something about that. Nitesco, you go find that old tavern you mentioned. See if you can't make some money there, we'll need it to buy supplies."

"By rigging the tables? Can do." He grinned and finished off his mug.

"Gwydion, go with him. If the owner gets suspicious, make sure Nitesco gets out of there alive."

Gwydion looked down at the table and cleared his throat. "Alright. I can do that."

"Fantastic. Quixotic, if you have any contacts in the city, talk to them. We need all the help we can get."

"I know just the person," Quixotic said, and he finished his drink. "I'll hit up the pigeon coops on the tavern down the street after another round."

"Very good. I'll work on getting an audience with the King of Guns N' Roses. Good luck to all of you," Austin said grimly, and he stood up and left, leaving the other three behind.

He went out into the streets, nervously pacing down the road to the castle. He passed by several guards who cast him cursory, curious glances. He clearly wasn't from around here, why was he going up the road to the castle?

The old man finally arrived at the portcullis of the great castle on top of the hill. He was approached by three tough-looking guards. One of them, the youngest one, looked at him with disdain and amusement. What business could he have with the King?

The oldest-looking soldier eyed Austin with curiosity. Perhaps they worked together at one point in time? It didn't matter.

The commanding officer stepped forward, completely impassive. He looked Austin up and down, a cursory security measure. He cleared his throat.

"My good sir, you arrive at Cargo Castle, the personal fortress and estate of King Frasian VI, Lord of the Realm, Joint Ruler of the people of the Gunnian and Rosian kingdoms, and Commander of the Red Legions. What is your business here?"

Austin's heart beat faster than he thought possible.

"I've come to turn myself in."

The youngest guard snickered disdainfully. "For what? Did you not attend the church service yesterday?"

The old man cleared his throat nervously. He sniffed.

"My name is Austin Rufus, former Vice Commander of the Red Legions, former Marshal of King Pykoh III and former Representative of Greater Gunnia in the people's assembly. Need I say more?"

The guards suddenly fell silent, and the blood drained from their faces. Austin, in spite of himself, wasn't able to suppress a smirk when he saw their reactions.

The lead guard procured a pair of handcuffs and attached them to Austin's wrists. As he did that, Austin began speaking again.

"I have three accomplices in the city. Quixotic Quail, Gwydion Forto and Nitesco Gaming. I will happily provide descriptions and possible locations for you."

The youngest guard opened the portcullis as the lead guard ushered him through. As they walked through the courtyard, his escort looked at him strangely.

"Why are you doing this? What do you seek to gain from this?"

Austin laughed. "Perhaps I felt guilty. You ever think of that?"

"Do you seek the King's death?" He jostled Austin roughly. "We're going to make sure you've no tricks up your sleeve."

"I would have it no other way." He feigned a confident smile. The guardsman merely shoved him, and he walked up the stairs to await his sentence.

Nitesco always made an effort not to show emotion when he played dice, Gwydion noted.

As Nitesco gripped the two dice between his knuckles, Gwydion thought he saw the slightest hint of a wry smirk appear on his face. The young Rosian threw the dice towards the right edge of the pit, his secret trick. They bounced off the edge, and the first one came to a stop. A two.

The second die continued bouncing across the pit before striking the barrier farthest from Nitesco and careening off that edge. At last, it came to a stop, and five dots stared straight up at the ceiling.

Nitesco cried out happily, and the few patrons still betting against him rustled through their pockets for what few coins Nitesco had left them with. Gwydion chuckled softly, amused.

All of a sudden, four soldiers abruptly kicked open the front doors of the tavern, swords already drawn. The owner hobbled over to them, raising his hands in a placating manner.

"Hey, hey. Easy fellas, the protection money's not due for another week."

The largest one shoved him aside and began scanning the crowd. He beckoned for his soldiers to fan out.

"I'm not here for your greasy protection money, you obese imbecile. I'm here for Nitesco Gaming and Gwydion Forto, who are charged as accessories to the murder of King Pykoh III."

One of the soldiers grabbed Nitesco, who was still hunched over the dice pit. He struggled against the guardsman's grip, but could not escape. He turned to Gwydion and cried out.

"Run! Run, Gwydion!"

Gwydion instantly backed away, slamming the back door open and escaping into the alley behind the tavern. He could hear soldiers yelling and sprinting footsteps as the men behind him gave chase. Gwydion rounded a bend and escaped into one of the main street. He dove into a large crowd of pedestrians, hoping to catch his pursuers off-guard.

His plan failed. One of the soldiers came out of the alley in front of him and struck him square in the stomach with his elbow. Gwydion collapsed to the ground in pain as two more soldiers stood over him.

"You should've just come with us in the first place," one of them said.

A fist came towards him. The world went black.

Quixotic sat on top of the roof of the Thorny Rose, the somewhat unpleasant tavern he had once visited with Nachbar some years prior. He didn't remember much, but he did distinctly remember having to fend off some offended smugglers whom he had tricked with counterfeit coins. The security did seem to be improved, he noted.

He chewed his nails a small bit, a nervous habit he had developed over the years, as he waited for the ink on the letter he had written to dry. Quixotic coughed dryly; the air was much too cold up here in the highlands, he thought. He sat down on a small bench and looked over the letter.

Nachbar,

I have safely escaped the massacre at Pollination and now take refuge in the city of Guns N' Roses. My fellow commanders are also safe, and we have already begun recruiting for our new army. We would greatly appreciate it if you could lend your assistance to our cause. If you decide to aid us, meet me in the courtyard behind Gibbous Rose cathedral sometime in the next three weeks.

- Q.Q.

He nodded silently, noting how his penmanship had somewhat diminished over the months. He wrapped up the now-dry letter, sealed it, and attached it to a pigeon's leg, letting it fly away. As he watched it fly out into the distance, he heard the door to the roof open.

Quixotic turned around, expecting the owner to come out and ask what he was doing. Instead, he locked eyes with a particularly handsome Gunnian soldier. He debated whether or not to try and beguile him or play it safe. He decided to err on the side of safety.

"Hello, sir. Have I done something wrong?" Quixotic shrugged, trying to look innocent. He soldier, emotionless, beckoned for his guards to arrest him.

"Quixotic Quail, you are under arrest for conspiring to murder King Pykoh III. You are coming with us."

The soldiers grabbed him by the arms. He made a cursory attempt to wriggle free.

"Murder King Pykoh? I was a child when that happened. You know that's bullshit. Let me go."

The guardsman sighed. "I'm afraid I can't. Orders are orders. And unless you'd like to take a trip off the side of the roof, I suggest you go peacefully."

Quixotic took a peek off the edge. It was a long way down. "Fine." He huffed.

The guardsman nodded courteously to his men, and they began escorting him off the rooftop and to the court of the King.

When Gwydion came to, he was no longer in the street. His surroundings were well-furnished and decorated, and the light of numerous torches illuminated the surroundings, highlighting the black and red theme everything seemed to have. He looked around; to his left were his friends Austin, Nitesco and Quixotic, all kneeling and bound by chains. Upon trying to move his hands, he found he too was bound.

"Quixotic!" He whispered. "Where are we?"

"Austin managed to get us an audience with King Frasian. Unfortunately, he neglected to tell us he did that by confessing to King Pykoh's murder!" He hissed angrily.

"Technically, I did not confess."

"Does that really make a difference?" Nitesco shot back. "We're still probably going to be-"

From the side, he heard a large door open and shut, and a man walked forward. He was dressed in black and red robes, almost identical to the ones Nitesco wore when he proselytized to the people of Guns N' Roses. He took a seat on the throne and drummed his fingers on the arm.

"Austin Rufus. How long has it been? I was a mere boy when you murdered my father."

All three of the younger commanders shot Austin a worried look. The old man shrugged sheepishly.

"I must say, I am surprised you came forth after all these years. However, I recognize that you must have had an ulterior motive. How much of a fool do you think I am? These men weren't even alive when you murdered my father and his advisors!"

Austin shrugged. "I recognize you hold a grudge against me. I understand, really, I do. But I only acquired this meeting to speak with you. It is imperative that we arrive at an understanding."

"Understanding?!" Frasian bellowed as he stood up. "I should have you thrown into the oubliette! You are a murderer and a manipulator, and worst of all, you have wasted my time! Guards!" He cried.

"Throw the old man into the oubliette. As for these three, release them."

"Wait," said Nitesco. He stood up as nonthreateningly as he could. "Austin's right. Guilty or not, we have to speak with you. It's about Celtic."

Frasian laughed. "Celtic? That menace? He is nothing more than a common opportunist. He wages war beyond the mountains, so it is not our problem. His rebellion is doomed anyways."

Quixotic spoke up. "No, sir. As of the moment, it is fractured, but he is still winning. He has Heroa and Villainia under his thumb, and he moves against resistance in Rubia and Junipera. He seeks to control the entire Subreddit and reform the current system to his whims. How long do you think he will stay beyond the mountains?"

"Guns N' Roses is neutral! We pose no threat to him."

"Not yet," Gwydion interjected. "But you will. When there's nobody left to resist him, he will take the colonies, the neutral countries and the republics. Do you think there will be anybody left to resist then?"

Frasian sighed. "No, perhaps not. But what do you four have to do with this fight?"

Gwydion smirked. "As a matter of fact, we were the commanders of the Rowj League."

Frasian frowned. "Which is now disbanded. I have heard of you, and how you defeated General Vulpix at Jaunerrha Citadel. Fine. Let's say I lend you some of my men. Then what? Will you fight off Celtic using only those soldiers?"

"No," Nitesco clarified. "All we need to do is show the world that we still draw breath, and those who seek to resist Celtic and his vile Council will rally behind us. We only need a legion or two to back up our claims. The rest will work out on its own."

Frasian sat back down and sighed.

"Captain, please escort these men to the diplomat's quarters. Keep them under heavy guard until morning. I will be considering their offer."

"Thank the Goddesses," Quixotic mumbled. Gwydion and Nitesco silently thanked their deities as they were escorted away.

As they walked by the King, Austin stopped and turned to Frasian, with a deep look of regret in his eyes. He sighed.

"For the record, I'm sorry. I really am."

The King stared at him. "Would you change it, if you could?"

"Knowing what I know now, no. I hope you understand."

Frasian nodded and waved him away. Austin followed his co-commanders to their quarters and left the King alone in his throne room.

Nachbar walked through the camp, somewhat unnerved. Celtic had summoned him for a private meeting. He was worried. His master was a staunch legalist; beneath the façade of friendship lied a secret disdain for men like him. Nachbar knew that as soon as Celtic won the war, he would be imprisoned, or worse. Knowing Celtic, probably worse.

He pushed aside the flap of Celtic's tent. Inside, he was having a game of cards with Greatness and Jokey. Celtic and Jokey had looks of concern, and Greatness was struggling to suppress a grin. Celtic looked up from his cards and nodded at Nachbar while Greatness took the opportunity to peek at Celtic's cards.

"Good morning, Peter. How are you?"

"A bit tired," Nachbar said as he stifled a yawn. "Where's the rest of the Council?"

Greatness turned his attention to Nachbar as well. "Oh, yeah. Yukon went off to inspect Maker's new toxins and see if his men can use any. I haven't seen Vulpix all morning, but he's probably brooding about…" He was cut off as Celtic elbowed him in the ribs.

"It's rude to gossip, Magnus." The mercenary grimaced as Celtic stood up and pulled a letter from out of his pocket.

"We intercepted this a few hours ago. It's from someone known as Q.Q., and it's addressed to you. What is the significance of this?" Nachbar glanced over the letter. The handwriting matched Quixotic's, though its quality had decreased noticeably. After a few moments, he handed it back to Celtic.

"My agent Quixotic, as you'll recall, is one of the leaders of the Rowj rebellion. He still thinks I'm on his side."

Jokey stroked his chin pensively. "I remember him. Yes, this gives us a unique opportunity. We can ambush them at Guns N' Roses and end this once and for all."

"There's still the problem of Inferno," Celtic said, "but yes. We will vanquish them there." He turned to Nachbar. "We'll formulate a plan later. In the meantime, if you see Yukon, Vulpix or Maker, tell them to get over here. I've got a lucky streak right now, and Maker still owes me fifteen ducats."

Nachbar nodded and exited the tent. As he turned the corner, he noticed a wiry little man, a scout by the looks of it, eavesdropping on the tent. The scout quickly looked around and ducked out of sight.

Nachbar smirked and walked away.

The soft sounds of the river echoed through the silent castle that was currently inhabited by Inferno, Samurai and his most trusted soldiers. Inferno sat, pensive, on his throne with his hands folded into a steeple. He heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," Inferno instructed.

Samurai and a small, wiry little man walked in through the doors. The little man bowed as Samurai leaned against a pillar which bore the marks of Celtic's axe.

"My liege, I have something to report. Celtic and his forces are mobilizing. Almost all available forces are being called to converge outside the Rosian Pass. They plan to march on Guns N' Roses."

Inferno cocked his head. "Guns N' Roses? Why? They're neutral, and they don't pose any threat."

"The Rowj commanders are alive and well, and are hiding within the capital. Celtic wants to eliminate them before they can amass another resistance."

"Thank you," Inferno said as he beckoned to the open door. "You may leave now. I must discuss this with my advisors."

"And my compensation?" Asked the little man.

"You will be well compensated, in due time. Right now, I must strategize." The spy furrowed his brow, disappointed, and exited the throne room.

Inferno leaned over, contemplating his odds of victory. Samurai advanced toward him.

"My liege, are you sure you want to do this? We stand to lose a lot of good men."

Inferno pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, we do. But we can also gain critical new allies. With the former Rowj commanders on our side, we gain legitimacy in our fight against Celtic, not to mention their leadership abilities."

The bodyguard sighed with exasperation. "You've already decided, haven't you?"

"Indeed. Ready the men! Tell them we march for Guns N' Roses!"

Samurai nodded and departed to ready the men for war.