Beam POV: Day 68

Current Wealth: 118 gold 31 silver 14 copper

Several things happened on our seventh day in Elswick, all of them good.

The first was that Solitaire’s gun was finally finished, and we all hurried in picking it up. I was a bit disappointed to find that it was not, in fact, a giant Browning m2, minigun or anti-tank rifle. Perhaps it was a bit unfair, but Solitaire’s abilities in my head had started to become quite close to Tony Stark’s. He did seem a bit put out when I let my disappointment at its rate of fire show.

Which isn’t to say it wouldn’t change things. For several reasons. Easy to load, all one needed to do with it was keep one compartment to the left of its barrel stacked with tiny little lead balls- which we’d also commissioned in large quantities- with the other side holding a compartment for the gunpowder to slide down, picked up from its store at the back by an oscillating sort of…Grip, thing. Being honest, I’m not very good at describing the technicalities of things.

What I can describe is the effectiveness, though. We gave Xangô a hundred shots to practise, and by the end of them he was consistently blowing holes in a human-sized target from well over a hundred metres. That was more than the range of basically any bow weapon I could think of, which was good enough for our purposes.

The more immediately exciting bonus, of course, was that we’d also commissioned several sets of plate armour last week, from several different smiths for the purpose of speed, and they were all finally being finished. One for Helena, Argar, Solitaire and Xangô. None for me- apparently my magic meant I wasn’t worth spending the money on. Thrifty pricks.

Well, we’d not had that much to spend, being fair. By the time we’d forked over all the necessary funds our surplus of over 100 gold had quickly shrivelled by 97. Even looking at the results, it was hard to feel like the sum had been worth it.

All of the others were testing their movement in the armour, flexing and shifting, feet leaving the floorboards to creak under them as they readjusted to moving a body now some thirty kilos heavier. Argar’s was by far the largest frame, and I wondered how much extra mass his own protection had been packed with. We took the better part of an hour to adjust, grappling and sparring, rolling and falling.

Fortunately, Solitaire had watched everyone being fitted with their plate, and assured us all he’d memorised the process of stripping it off. Whether he was lying or not, we had better things to concern ourselves with.

We’d discovered a few convenient facts about our new friends while we were spending the week working and training, most pressingly that Helena, somehow, was actually literate. We still didn’t actually know what that woman’s past was, I myself hadn’t spoken to her much, but I was in no place to complain given how convenient it was having someone to peruse the missives for us.

She did just that, around noon, while we all waited standing around her and watching, giving feedback on each suggestion.

“Uh, a caravan needs protection moving from here to Dragonsfell and back? It’s offering three gold.” She asked. We talked, then decided against it.

“Too long.” Solitaire sighed. “Not worth it.”

“There’s a village that’s been harassed by a raiding party, they want someone to find their camp and clear it out.”

That sparked a bit of thought.

“How big is the village?” Xangô asked. Helena frowned.

“Doesn’t say here, but the place is Whitan, I’ve been there once or twice. It’s about the size of Rinchester, before the rotters I mean.”

Our faces soured. We were definitely not clearing out a force big enough to bully hundreds of people single-handedly, armour or not.

“Ah, what about this?” She grinned. “An old Remon fort has been taken and currently occupied by the orcs, the city itself wants someone to take it back. There’s a time limit, the guards are being sent in to remove them within a few days, but it’s not more than one day’s travel away. 30 gold.”

We’d been finding it harder and harder to procure the ingredients for gunpowder, and Solitaire claimed his breath was starting to smell like shit. 30 gold sounded very, very good, even after the massive profits we’d made over the past week. I knew it’d tempt everyone before I even saw their faces creasing over in thought.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“What sort of fort is it?” Solitaire asked. Helena peered at the paper, frowning.

“Uh, a hill-fort. Remon, like I said, built and rebuilt over and over again. Wooden walls, a drawbridge-”

“A motte and bailey.” Solitaire cut in, understanding flashing. “Of course.”

I should’ve guessed it myself.. The Remons were our version of the Romans. Yes, yes, I know, believe me I know. We did start writing this book when we were 15, in our defence. Regardless, if it was something as primitive as that then it probably wouldn’t be packed with hundreds of the enemy, at least.

“Any idea what the average armament of the orcs is?” Xangô asked, clearly giving the idea some considering himself. That almost had me decided on its own, he was by far the most cautious of us, if he thought something was on the table then it was probably all but a sure thing for the rest of us.

Helena shook her head though.

“They’re not really giving much information in that regard.”

“Iron weapons.” Argar piped up, suddenly. “Mostly, pig-iron of the sort you’d see on northerner raiders. Most of them are either wearing furs, or some primitive sort of wool armour. The occasional one has nice and big blocks of iron sticking on them, not quite plate, but not quite not plate either. Those ones usually have actual steel too, though I don’t know where they get it.”

We all eyed him, and he grinned smugly.

“There are benefits to frequenting every pub in the city, you know. I hear everything the mercenaries have been saying, and a particularly juicy bit of gossip can actually outpace magical communication on the military grapevine.”

I made a note not to underestimate Argar again. The big guy played aloof, but he was about as sharp as the new axe we’d bought him.

“That sounds manageable.” Solitaire observed, shooting an approving glance Argar’s way. “Very manageable, actually, I’d been assuming our opposition would be as well armed as the local humans.”

Even in spite of his good mood, his lip still curled slightly when he said the last word. “Humans”, stretching the vowel, wincing as if he’d just tasted something bitter. It was as if the very thought of people disgusted him. That was, of course, because it did. I supposed fighting orcs might give me a bit of insight into how my friend felt fighting his own species.

“We’ll still be outnumbered.” Xangô noted. “Right? There’s only five of us.”

“We’re all far more than the average soldier.” Solitaire countered. “And there won’t be that many of the enemy. At best there’ll be 100-200, which will require some farming infrastructure set up to occupy for any length of time. Helena, how long have they been there?”

“Three weeks.” The Vit replied, and Solitaire nodded, apparently having anticipated the answer.

“Three weeks.” He echoed. “And it’s winter, so they can’t have been growing anything in any significant amount. Do they have wagons, Argar?”

The giant shook his head.

“Good. That means any resources they brought in would’ve been basically carried by hand, I think we have good odds of finding no more than a few dozen there.”

We all eyed him, far from reassured by the declaration.

“That’s still a few dozen.” Xangô sighed.

“And it’s a fraction of a hundred.” Solitaire snapped. “I think you’re all underestimating how dangerous we are, the Belahonts in particular. Beam alone could probably take 10 of the fuckers as he is now, let alone the rest of us combined. For God’s sake Xangô you have a gun.”

As far as arguments went, it sounded a lot more petulant than usual. I supposed that was just the natural consequence of making it an argument about how we’d totally be able to kick 10 guys’ asses each. Still, it wasn’t exactly…Flawed.

“We can check it out at least.” I noted. “It’s just a day’s travel, we can easily afford that. The potential rewards are huge.”

“Come on Xangô,” Solitaire added, “Don’t be a bitch.”

It probably wasn’t the ribbing that decided him in the end, but it certainly looked like it was. Xangô’s decision to humour us came just moments after Solitaire’s poking.

“Fine.” He growled, through a clenched jaw and closed teeth. “How and when do we set off?”

“Carriage has served us well so far, I see no reason to abandon it now.” I shrugged.

“I suppose you’re right.” He glared.

The preparations didn’t take us long, most of our week had been spent “preparing” for something on the level of what we were heading for, and we set out with a confidence we’d not felt since arriving here.

After seven days of being cooped up, hurried and worked to the bone, we were finally having a nice, juicy enemy dropped in front of us. Bodies covered with steel, hands filled with actually high-grade weapons, limbs powered by magic superhumanity accumulated through months of torturous fights and underhanded trickery.

Perhaps it spoke ill of me, but I felt a rush of excitement as I joined my friends in walking. Vampiric rapier at one side of me, and skill in conjuring new weapons practised to the point of taking me less than a second. Here was a chance to finally see whether I stood the test of Redacle’s truly hardened killers.

Somehow, I found myself unable to even fathom the idea that we might fall short.