He woke up to an unfamiliar view.
Huh, I don’t remember the ceiling being made of wood.
Jerking upright, Nathaniel looked wildly around for a moment, heart jack-hammering away in his chest. This wasn’t his dormitory! Where were his friends and—
Oh.
The boy grinned as he recalled the events of the previous day, panic fading away slowly. He was in an inn called The Pork & Pie, courtesy of his newly-found family after they left the imperial orphanage. His meagre belongings had hardly even filled half of the leather satchel they gave him, which led to Dice and Saintly reminiscing about their own days as an orphan before they were taken in by the Company. The rest of the night was filled with stories traded over food and ale before turning in, not that Weaver allowed him any alcohol, of course. While the rest of her teammates didn’t mind him having a few sips, the priest was adamant that Nathaniel should be allowed to be a child for a while longer before getting corrupted by ‘everyone else’. The boy had snorted at that, deciding not to reveal that he has been serving tables in taverns since he was ten, and that ale was nothing compared to the cask of firewater old man Henry kept for special occasions at the Three of Cups.
Spotting a basin filled with water with a washcloth neatly folded on the rim, Nathaniel put on his boots before shuffling over to it, not bothering to lace them. Wringing out the washcloth after dipping it in the pleasantly cool water, he dabbed at his face, taking care to wipe the back of his neck like Matron Abby had always told him to. Nathaniel frowned, staring at the rag in his hand. He missed Matron Abby already, but its not like he couldn’t come back to visit when he was old enough, right?
Now, to find his family. Where were they?
Nathaniel grinned. He had a family now! Hearing faint laughter emanating from downstairs, he grabbed his satchel before heading out of the room. His stomach growled as the scent of eggs and sausages made itself known. Now was a good time for some food, he thought.
He was halfway down the stairs before Robin spotted him. “Ah! Speak of the devil. We were just about to wake you for breakfast. Slept well then, Nathaniel?”
Nathaniel squeezed himself between Dice and a snoozing Rum at the table, smiling at Weaver in greeting. The mage beside him had his forehead on his arms, completely dead to the world. “S’not bad. Was I asleep for long? Where’s Saintly?”
Rolling a couple of sausages from a greasy pan onto a plate, Weaver jerked her head towards the stairs before spooning a portion of scrambled eggs into it too. Tearing out a chunk of bread from a loaf on the table, she pushed the plate across to Nathaniel, placing it on top of the eggs. “He’s still asleep, that slob. Eat up while it’s still warm, love.”
“Oh, so the kid gets special attention but not us?” Robin complained good-naturedly, ale sloshing in his tankard as he used it to gesture towards Nathaniel. “We’ve known you for like, more than a decade!”
Dice shushed at him. “Shut up, Robin, or she’ll start talking about the time we tried to use her as payment to bargain for a ride home again.”
“That’s right, you twits,” Weaver fixed the both of them with a baleful glare. “He gets special treatment because he didn’t try to set me up with a date with Oy. As far as I’m concerned, he’s the only decent guy among all of you.”
Curiosity piqued, Nathaniel looked up halfway through a mouth of sausages. “Sounds interesting. Tell me more?”
He wasn’t expecting Weaver to flush, however. Eyebrow raised, he looked at Robin for explanation.
“Ask me about it some other time, kid. Don’t want to annoy our team leader; I might get extra duties again.” The archer said airily. “Anyway, I’ll go wake Saintly up or he’ll complain about being hungry on the way back again.” With that, Robin drained his tankard before getting up and bounding up the stairs.
Weaver rolled her eyes. “Idiots.”
“Weaver?”
“Yes, love?” She turned to Nathaniel.
“Why did you say that all of you are siblings back when we were still in Matron Abby’s office?”
“Hmm, I did, didn’t I?” The priest mused thoughtfully. “I assume you’ll be wanting me to explain?
Nathaniel nodded.
Weaver drummed her knuckles on the table. “Do you remember Saintly saying that we’re all orphans?”
He nodded again, scoffing down another forkful of eggs.
“Well, to understand that, you got to know a little of the Company’s history. Company folklore says that we originated from an organised crime syndicate called the Kuro-kumi. The Kuro-kumi, however, was not from our world, but instead came from another world where there were no monsters as we know them. Now, legend states that Creation is connected to a place that acted like a hub between many different worlds, which is in turn connected to each other through interdimensional gates called spirit gates. Ages ago, a group of Kuro-kumi thugs went through a spirit gate by accident during a great world war on their world, getting stranded here in Creation without a way back. To their extreme surprise, they found out that there was a whole country of people who spoke the same language as they did, and had had a culture that was eerily similar even while being fundamentally different at the roots." The priest paused for a moment, giving Nathaniel some time to absorb her story.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
"The country that they found was Kiku no Kuni, or the Land of Chrysanthemums as we know it. Now, when translated literally into Common, kuro means the colour black, and kumi means either a group, an organisation or a company. Knowing nothing but how to fight, they kept to themselves while learning the ways of our world, eventually forming an adventuring guild under the same name. Realising that Victorians did not understand their name when said in Kiku-go when they came to seek their fortunes here, they renamed their guild the Bad Company to reflect their origins as a criminal enterprise."
Weaver took a sip from her cup of tea. “Now, the people who started the Company did not realise that adventuring guilds practiced a clear distinction between mercenary work and adventuring jobs, leading to our classification and reputation as a free company. Till this day, we wear the colour as tribute to the name of our roots; especially us orphans, who also take on Black as our last name. And that is the difference between the Company and other adventuring guilds, Nathaniel. We genuinely treat each other as family, and for us orphans,” —she tapped the boy for the forehead twice— “It’s the only family we know.”
Weaver stood up, stretching. “And when it comes down to it, the boys in Team Golf really are my brothers, as annoying as they are. When the time comes, you’ll definitely find your siblings too.”
What? Nathaniel gaped. Other worlds? Criminal syndicates? Spirit gates? Her answer only made him more confused. He had one more question left, unfortunately.
“And… Golf? What’s that?”
Laughing as she walked up the stairs to her room, Weaver winked.
“Don’t worry, you’ll learn about everything soon!”
Damn it!
In his sleep, Rum dreamt of buxom serving girls wearing only aprons and nothing else.
----------------------------------------
“Ready to leave, kid?” said Saintly, stuffing his face with the leftovers from the breakfast he missed as Nathaniel looked on with horrified curiosity. How did the man manage to eat that much so quickly and still be able to speak coherently at the same time?
Weaver tossed a piece of bread crust at him, disgusted. “Stop talking when you have food in your mouth, Saintly. No one wants to see what your food looks like when you chew it.”
Nathaniel winced as Saintly waved dismissively at Weaver with a forkful of sausage. The man really had no table manners. Noticing everyone else strapping on their weapon belts and generally checking on the condition of their equipment, the boy found it odd that Rum and Weaver were just sitting down.
“Rum, magic is very useful and powerful, right?”
The mage grunted around a mouthful of ale.
“So why do Robin, Saintly and Dice still use weapons? Why don’t they all use wands to cast magic like you and Weaver?”
Rum belched, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Because they’re stupid, that’s why.” He then shifted his head to the side suddenly, the fork that Saintly has been using flying past unnervingly close past his ear.
Chucking, Dice tossed a bag of coins towards the innkeeper, who caught it with a hand. “It’s not that we can’t use magic, Nathaniel. It’s just we use magic differently from traditional magi, that’s all.”
Robin looked up from stringing his bow midway, shrugging in agreement. “Not all of us need loud, flashy spells to get things done, Nathaniel.”
“While that is true,” the knight commented mildly, sheathing a long dagger into a holster strapped onto his lower back. “You’ve got to think of magic like cooking, Nathaniel. Everyone can cook, but not everyone cooks the same way. Not everyone cooks well, either. Practice plays a part, but aptitude is probably the most important thing when casting spells. Wands and staffs are made from materials that are inherently magical, and they help the mage focus their spells with a lot less effort.”
The boy chewed on his bottom lip. That explanation made a lot of sense to him, actually.
“Alright, we ate breakfast, did our equipment checks, swept our rooms for anything left behind and the innkeeper is paid. Anything else we forgot?” Weaver counted off her fingers.
“Nah, we’re good. Let’s go, guys. Sun’s climbing; it should be noon soon. We’ll have to make haste if we want to arrive at Castle Black before dinner.” Robin walked out of the entrance of the inn, the rest of the group following.
“What’s Castle Black? How are we getting there? By foot? Is Castle Black that close to the city?” Nathaniel asked between breaths as he struggled to keep up with Team Golf. Even for a woman her stature, Weaver easily kept pace with the rest of her teammates, only stopping to keep pace with him. It’s not his fault he didn’t have legs as long as them, dammit!
“Castle Black is where the Bad Company is based out of, love, about two and a half days of a walk south from here. While the city of Starwynn might be the closest to Castle Black, it is still two and a half days. Thank the Gods we’re not walking though. I’m tired enough as it is.” replied Weaver, relief distinguishable in her voice.
“We’re not? Then how are we getting— Oof!” Nathaniel walked right into Dice, face bouncing off the backplates of his cuirass. Rubbing his forehead, the boy pouted. “What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?”
Looking around, Nathaniel realised that they were near the outskirts of Starrywn, in the middle of a rather large grassy clearing not too far from the from the The Pork & Pie. Turning his attention back to his companions, he noticed the knight rummaging through a pouch on his back of his left hip, eventually pulling out what looked an object made of a cool, blue glass that seemed to flash in the sunlight. Nathaniel was instantly transfixed, a victim of his magpie syndrome.
“Ooooooh, what’s that?”
“This?” Dice chuckled, holding the object up so Nathaniel take could take a closer look. Roughly the size of the first two fingers of an adult put together and about twice as thick, it was a cylindrical object that had a hole carved out near the middle, ending in what looked vaguely like a mouthpiece. Crudely-fashioned and hollow, a string of rawhide was tied around a loop that was fashioned into the other end. Winking gently, the translucent cobalt crystal-like material that it was made of refracted the sunlight, causing it to glow instead of flashing.
“Might want to cover your ears, kid.” Winking, the knight took a breath and blew hard into it, causing a keening, ear-piercing whistle to blast out into the air around them. Even with his hands clapped over his ears, Nathaniel could still hear it clearly, a hollow, haunting note that echoed unnaturally in their surroundings. That, he decided, definitely had some sort of magic tied into it. There was no physical way a normal whistle could produce a note that ethereal and loud.
Twirling it around his fingers, Dice caught the whistle deftly in his hand. “This right here is a dragonglass whistle, kid. Each one produces a unique note that summons the dragon that made it, and it can only be made by a dragon for a rider that the dragon willingly bonds with. Now, with any luck, Barbecue hasn’t eaten one of our griffins, and that they’re smart enough to follow him when he takes off to find us.”
“What? Griffins? Dragons!?”
Weaver was pretty sure that human eyes shouldn’t sparkle like that, especially the eyes of a twelve year-old boy.
Before any more questions could be fired off by an overly-excited Nathaniel, the group heard a guttural roar split the air, blended with the sound of several shrill screeches. Looking up, they spotted a flock of griffins angled sharply downwards in flight towards them, trailed closely by a majestic blue dragon that was easily twice the size of one. Everyone quickly backed off instinctively, not wanting to get trampled underfoot. While the griffins pumped their wings powerfully to slow their descent enough for a graceful landing, the dragon dropped down into an almost vertical dive with its wings tucked, only flaring them at the last moment before landing in front of Dice with an earth-shaking crash. Cocking its head back, the dragon breathed a cone of icy blue fire into the air above it, pawing at the earth before nuzzling his rider. Large as as he was, the knight was easily dwarfed by his dragon, only coming up to just below its chest as it sat on its haunches.
Listening to Nathaniel’s almost impossibly sharp squeal of delight, Weaver nudged at Robin with her elbow.
“Well, now we know who he’ll be riding with on the way back, eh?”