A contract was very different from the standard commission from the guild, and was generally a way of earning money preferred by mercenaries. The period of time one would be paid was drastically different, while the average commission might entail days or weeks of work, the terms of a contract would be set in months, and on rare occasions even years. Backhand Blow securing a contract meant that none of us would have to worry about pay for the foreseeable future, with a monthly sum being handed to the leadership of the band, which would then ‘trickle down’ to the rest of us.
There was even more money to be earned depending on the type of contract, things such as loot obtained from slain enemies and even the occasional plundering of the employer’s enemies was something many of my squadmates looked forward to. If the employer was overly impressed with the performance of the band, they might even give extra payment on top of what was expected, although such things seemed unlikely to happen to me.
The penalty for failing to live up to the terms of a contract was much harsher, especially from the mercenary guild which enforced it. If the band harmed the dominion of the employer, the captain of the band might be put to death and the rest of the band disbanded, which is something I was told by the ever-talkative Cameron.
This was definitely something all within our squad wanted to avoid, so Gorkas secured vows of ‘proper behavior’ from us on the way East, making sure we wouldn’t do anything to impede the smooth completion of the contract. Gorkas said that we were employed for a preliminary period of three months, but there was a clause in the contract that allowed for an extension for another three should the circumstances require it.
Exactly whom our employer was I did not know, and Gorkas didn’t know either. He only theorized that the identity of our employer was something that might present problems on our travels to the point of contact, so we would be informed by the captain of the specifics of our contract only when we were relatively close to our destination.
The marching ‘column’ was quite long for a band of only two hundred or so fighting men, which did not include a few dozen non-combat personnel such as the cooks and helpers. The land we were marching through fully equipped and escorting the wagons which carried our supplies, tents, etc. was intertwined with forests, and that might have contributed to my impression that our group was larger than it actually was.
In the first week of our trip we had already left Targis, and entered its neighbor known as Wavell. Villages were sparse, and towns even more so with not a single one apart from Wavell itself present in these lands. This was considered by the leadership of the band, so our food and potable water was stocked up for at least two weeks of uninterrupted marching, with our speed being slightly faster than that of the mercenary caravans I escorted before.
Nature seemed to not agree with our choices however, with our journey stopped in its tracks by rains which turned the dirt ‘road’ into a muddy puddle, causing us to halt in our tracks in a nearby forest where we camped uneventfully for a few days. I did not stay idle during this time, as the soreness in my body from the week of marching wore off in only a day, and I restarted the exercise routine from the previous rainy period in the original camp.
Edmund joined me as before, already feeling the benefits of pushups in his upper torso, convinced his brother Opie, Dorian, and the quiet Vaugh to join in out of boredom. My meditations too attracted attention from my squadmates, who began to think that I was conversing with something else during my quiet times which lasted over an hour. I just used the excuses I had heard back on Earth of ‘orienting myself’, and ‘calming my mind’ to talk my way out of it, which they bought ‘hook line and sinker’.
These inert rainy days lasted for only a while, and by the fourth day of camping in makeshift tents with only a night on sentry duty in between we had begun to move again, the ground hardening daily. The night I spent sleeplessly with the rest of my squad, occasionally changing positions around the periphery of the camp to change conversation partners was not scary whatsoever, as although a merchant caravan was a reasonable target for bandits, attacking a mercenary band would be akin to smashing an egg against a rock.
We re-entered the borders of Hessia from another place this time, and only after an hour of marching a vast lake was visible. Lake Nobia was so large that I could not see land on its far side, providing a nice change of scenery to the green and brown I had seen recently. The lake was a water source, so fishing villages and farms dotted the lakeside as we marched towards the city of Sipon, the second largest in all of Hessia.
A large group of armed men frightened the common people of Hessia as we went, with some even fleeing on their fishing boats to the lake's interior to get away from us. We didn’t have the leisure to explain the situation though, so all the villagers saw was our band walk away from them, with laughter booming from our direction.
Our presence was noticed by the locals in advance of our march, and only a day’s journey from Sipon we were halted by an even larger group of soldiers, a part of which was on horseback. The order of march was rotated daily, and coincidentally our squad was one of the units closest to the front, allowing me to hear the conversation between Lydon, Werley(the vice-captain), and the opposing knight.
“Identify yourself! Who are you and what is your purpose in moving through Count Macon’s lands?” Shouted the mounted Knight.
“I am Captain Lydon of Backhand Blow, we are a mercenary band which is simply passing through your lord’s lands” Lydon answered, his words respectful and deferential.
“Where is your band headed?” He continued, his tone aggressive.
“...I’m afraid my employer demanded secrecy in the terms of our contract. I mean no offense Sir Knight, and I can assure you that our band is not headed to fight Hessia on the battlefield…” Lydon responded, after taking a brief pause to think.
“Your contract is of little concern to the count, if you do not disclose your destination then you will have to turn back, the count has decreed that all mercenary bands are not allowed to enter his dominion until the end of the harvest” Declaring clearly, his gaze lingering on Lydon, before looking at the disorganized group of mercenaries who were escorting the wagon convoy.
The men who were blocking our way did not look too menacing, at least those on foot. The mounted Knight and the others who were presumably Knights or men-at-arms were the real threat to an infantry formation, removing any possibility of us forcing our way through. After a few tense moments, Lydon bowed his head to the Knight and came back to the rest of the band, ordering us all to turn around.
Our whole band marched tiredly south until the lake was no longer on our left side, and arrived in Wavell the following day. This was the closest city that we could enter, which was a necessity since our food was already running quite low. At this point Lydon summoned all of the squad-leaders and above, and informed them of our employers identity, which shed some light on why we were denied passage through the shortest route.
Captain Lydon got wind through merchants of some instability within the Duchy of Glasdale, the Duke was having trouble reining in some disobedient nobles. This had been a hallmark of his rule for years, but recently there were rumors that Glasdale’s neighbors were supporting these nobles, causing quite a bit of trouble for the Duke.
Lydon had sent Alula as his messenger, and offered the services of his band through the mercenary guild, enticing the Duke into taking them on to aid them with the task of suppressing the nobles. Lydon suspected that Hessia would be one of the countries which would have a bone to pick with Glasdale, fighting with them over access to Lake Nobia for over a century. This was the reason he had kept the exact destination of their journey secret, not wishing to run into any trouble on the way there.
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His thoughts proved prophetic as without even knowing for sure whether Glasdale would hire mercenaries, the Count of Sipon had preemptively restricted their movement, which had served its intended purpose with blocking us.
There wasn’t much of a choice, as if we failed to appear in the Duchy of Glasdale we would suffer the penalties associated with a breach of contract, and the only other way was to go around the south of Lake Nobia, but that carried with it its own set of problems. South of Lake Nobia was a very large marsh called the ‘Cursed Wetlands’, and while the name might be superstitious the consequences of venturing into it were very real.
The vast area of ‘static’ water resulted in a very large amount of insects living within the wetlands, and since they can also carry disease. Lydon was in between a rock and a hard place, but he eventually made the decision to make a forced march until the wetlands were no longer near us, after which he would rest for a day now that the threat of mosquitoes was no longer there.
The two days of march during which our group did not stop for longer than half an hour, left about half of the whole band unable to even walk further than a hundred paces. The men who collapsed on the way lurched forwards into the dirt, their faces becoming smeared in dirt. The comrades nearby would feel pity for them, and would pick them up and place them on top of the wagons which were already crowded with supplies bought in Wavell, but now these same sacks were used as pillows by the passed out soldiers.
I felt very lightheaded on multiple occasions, my thoughts no longer focused on something else to interrupt the tedium of putting one foot in front of another. When the marching column was stopped in the afternoon of the second day, most men who still had the strength to stay away from the very attractive comfort of the wagons fell to their knees. Edmund went out like a light behind me, falling head first into my back quite hard.
As long as he didn’t get a concussion there wouldn’t be a problem, and the people in the band didn’t even bother to set up tents before finally going to sleep, the drivers of the wagons serving as the ‘sentries’ and the captain not insisting on a proper campsite being set up.
This forced march was a great test of my willpower, and the following morning I began thinking that perhaps the whole band should train to do a forced march every now and then so that we would be able to do them in a real situation like this one and not have half of the band drop out during it.
The day of rest was a very nice reprieve for all of us, and even Gorkas couldn’t muster up the energy to complain about something which was unlike our usual squad-leader. I spent the whole day in conversation with Cameron, with most of our squad joining in on occasion as he was the only member of our unit apart from Gorkas who had been in the band the last time it had a commission.
He explained the way in which the band, less than half the size, operated during the conflict of one noble against some peasants who were refusing to pay taxes to their lord. He did not seem as cheerful as he usually did, as he described the way in which the mercenaries would turn into beasts during battle, not bothering to spare the villagers who fought with makeshift weapons such as farming tools against fully armed and armored soldiers.
The noble was especially ruthless to the non-combatants, seizing the women of all ages and selling them into slavery, while executing the men without remorse. The villages were then burnt to a crisp after the usual looting was performed, after which the mercenaries along with the noble’s own forces would depart as there were even more villages left to burn.
Such narration from Cameron dampened a lot of my enthusiasm for the upcoming months, as I expected we would be fighting against those who were at least on a similar level to soldiers. It made sense though that there wouldn’t be that many actual fighting men in any one place, as before industrialization the vast majority of the population were farmers, providing a food surplus to the cities where those with other professions would live.
Cameron ended his tale by recalling the effect of a cavalry charge by the noble’s force which was meant to break open a formation of peasant levies for the mercenaries to charge at, but in actuality had managed to rout them almost instantly. He advised us that since we would not be facing only peasants this time around, we should pay attention to not getting taken unawares by enemy cavalry, and that only together would we be able to resist one should we become the target of a charge.
The villages we passed by on our route north after we stopped following the edge of the lake were not frightened of us whatsoever, as these villagers were no strangers to warfare. A lot of the buildings in the village were still in the process of being built, which suggested that the previous ones were burned in an act of cruelty in one of the previous conflicts that touched this corner of Euphelia.
They were alert and ready to fend us off even at the cost of their lives, but seeing that we were just passing by they eventually dissipated and only the curious ones remained to watch the uncommon sight of a mercenary group marching. Since we were now in an area where the captain suspected we might be attacked at any moment, orders were handed down to remain on alert and be ready to form a line of defense at any moment. The choice of camping spot for the night changed as well, as before the biggest consideration was finding a dry place with relatively easy access to the dirt roads, now emphasis was placed on finding a defensible position with a good view of the surroundings.
The very last night before we would be arriving at Galles, the capital of the Duchy of Glasdale, our squad was the one who would be on night guard duty as a full rotation had already been completed in two weeks. Chatter was strictly discouraged by Gorkas, and there would be some of us standing atop wagons which carried our supplies in order to have a higher vantage point than at ground level.
Being so close to the place of contact, it was no surprise that apart from some animal sounds from within the wilderness, nothing unusual happened. In the morning I sleepily followed my equally tired squadmates as we marched near the middle of the column, which they told me was the safest place to be. From the front I could hear cheers erupt along the mercenaries, and after only a few dozen more paces I found the reason for their elation.
In front of us was a large city with uniform defensive walls, and even at this long distance I could see some dots moving around the top of it. There was a river on our right as we marched a short distance away, and this river was only a stone’s throw from the walls of the city, and there were even buildings built outside of their bounds.
Gorkas was aware of a lot of geographical information which all the squad leaders were informed of back in Wavell, so he told us that this was the Shon river, one that flowed from the Frat Mountains to the north all the way to the Cursed wetlands in the south. We had been following this river for a few days now, as we were far enough away from the marsh to not worry about the insect bites.
Our journey past the marsh did not originally have any effect on me, but a few days ago Dorian said that I had a mosquito bite on the back of my neck, something I confirmed with my fingers. I didn’t feel any different, just tired and sore especially in the lower parts of my body, so I probably got lucky and didn’t fall ill from the bite unlike a few others who had spent a few days on the wagons before eventually getting better.
The strength of one’s immune system usually correlates with how healthy someone is, and with the amount of movement a mercenary usually does and the added income allowing for purchase of better food, usually meant that mercenaries as a whole were pretty resistant to not dying from common illnesses. This was luckily the case with those who got a fever from the mosquito bite, but since they didn’t die I just hoped that it wasn’t malaria or something, I mean we weren’t in a tropical region after all.
The Duke’s men at the gates rode out on horseback and led us to the north-western gate of the city, where we were told to set up camp and await the Duke’s orders. No one in the camp seemed to mind, as since we had already arrived at our ‘place of contact’, this would be the first day when we were officially under contract.
This remained true for the following day, and even the day after that, and I seemed to be the only one getting restless among my squad. My curiosity couldn’t hold back so I decided to talk to Gorkas after getting my daily training in with Dorian, Fisk, and Cameron. He didn’t immediately reply, but after seeing that I still had some sweat on my head from physical exertion, he answered and told me some information he received from the band’s leadership.
Since it was somewhere between spring and summer at the moment, the Duke couldn’t call up his levies until they were done with their harvests, after which Gorkas said the ‘campaigning season’ would begin. This was a hitherto unknown term for me, and Gorkas didn’t bother explaining anything so I just decided I’d ask Cameron or Fisk later, as they seemed to be pretty knowledgeable.
The peaceful days of training, while under the walls of Galles didn’t last too long as after about a week more and more people arrived near us and set up camps of their own. These people were nowhere near as menacing when it came to fighting, with rags and tunics being their only armor, and only a leather cap making an occasional appearance amongst them.
There was the odd armored man who barked orders that I could see, and it was clear that this was the ‘levy’ that would be fighting alongside us, not inspiring much confidence within me for a victorious outcome. Cameron didn’t seem to mind though, and even joked that as long as it was them and not us who would take all of the enemy’s arrows, he would welcome them with open arms.
By day ten there were over a thousand levies camped around us, and on that very morning the Duke rode out of the city on his horse and made his way towards the very center of the camp, which was where we were. He ordered Lydon who came out to greet him to gather his men, and likewise most of the levies were let into our camp to hear their lord’s words.
As soon as the uninformed peasants saw that it was a man dressed in extravagant armor, donning a dark green cape and actual proper armor being the center of attention, they put two and two together and kneeled, no longer looking around carelessly.
This was not the behavior that we mercenaries were following originally, but after seeing hundreds of people kneeling and bowing, we were peer pressured into following suit. This looked to please the Duke, who made his announcement with an unexpectedly jovial tone.
“Men of Glasdale, and the brave warriors who came from afar to support our righteous cause. The eternal enemies of our people have hatched a devious plot to divide us, seeking to turn our land into waste, enslave our women, and leave us with nothing! I have tolerated the lackeys of these men to the north for far too long, and tomorrow will bring with it the start of our retribution! All who fight for me will find glory, wealth, and the praise of the whole Duchy! Tomorrow, at dawn, we will depart for the north and smash the traitors in one mighty blow!” Announced the Duke, giving something between a motivational speech and a rallying cry to improve the morale of the soldiers.