余烬之军

The Tang has fallen. The realm has no master. Fifteen years. Five dynasties. Emperors come and go like post-horses. Grain costs more than a man, a life is worth less than grass, and there are bones along every road. In an age like this one trade always pays — selling your life by the day, following the coin and not the flag. They call it soldiering for hire. That is the company you command.