The news of my promotion was not met with enthusiasm from most of the squad members, Cameron tried to remain neutral in his expressions but some disappointment was still there from what I could see. Fisk shot me a look that probably meant ‘is this a joke?’, which was followed by a few days where we did not exchange more words than was absolutely necessary. The others ranged from indifference to tacit approval with the only positive reaction coming from Dorian who I began to consider as my best friend in the band.
Every day my mind met a conundrum to balance the best way to make sure the squad was running smoothly, with Gorkas dropping in from time to time to make sure I didn’t mess anything up. On the other hand I still remembered the way everyone in the band acted when we were raiding the villages, and the conduct of people who had developed an image of ‘honorable mercenaries’ was not consistent with what I had seen.
My term of service would only last about two more months, and I was already making plans to make myself scarce, my plans were nowhere near concrete but the one thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to be part of another act of banditry if I could help it. Gorkas had done a good job of making sure we were aware of our responsibilities beforehand, and even though we were now a squad of only 7, as opposed to the normal 10.
The contract with Duke Iker was over, so our band headed south with only a part of our plunder, which was not too difficult to move or was absolutely necessary. Everything but the foodstuffs, horses, looted armor and weapons was sold off for relatively cheap, and then the proceeds were redistributed to us.
This was accompanied by the payment from the Duke himself, and there was even one silver as a bonus although this was a small sum compared to what we had accomplished in the major engagement. The base pay for all mercenaries totaled up to just shy of four golds, most of which was paid in the Duke’s own currency. My recent promotion bore fruit and I was given five gold coins and a few silvers which was quite a lot for only a few months work, but while that may seem to be the case I could well have been among those who did not survive this time, which put things in perspective.
We were back in Galles after only three days of travel, not worried about attacks from any dangerous opponents but still wary of bandits and the off-chance of a large beast. Having something to do kept all of us busy, so I didn’t get up too much apart from my usual duties and some small chat with Dorian at opportune moments. The others were still not entirely happy with the current state of things, so for the return of things to ‘normality’ I decided to splurge some of the money I had just earned.
I went to Gorkas with my plan, and he managed to arrange it so that we would be one of the first squads to be given free time in Galles. I invited my whole squad for a meal, in a tavern which was definitely targeted at the more wealthy people in the city. Two of my gold coins were gone in one night, although the expense was well worth what it managed to achieve.
I had a candid conversation with the squad as a whole, and with each of them individually, where I explained my surprise at being given my position at such a young age, and gave them the same reasoning I had heard from Werley and the Captain, which managed to remove most of their animosity towards me in particular.
Kurt, Opie, and Edmund came around to the new state of affairs quite easily, it seemed the way to their hearts was through their stomach, good thing to know for the immediate future. Cameron and Fisk took some more convincing, but I assured both of them that I was nowhere near ready for what was expected of me at the moment, and the help of Gorkas and the two of them would be crucial to make sure that I didn’t do anything that might upset the ‘balance’ of the squad.
I gave them both some praise in that regard, not embellishing anything at all as I understood how useful their advice would be to me, and that Fisk in particular would be a godsend when it came to getting a better hang of Aswang. Hearing this request Fisk’s ears perked up, and he questioned me why that was such a big necessity. I thought that this information would be common knowledge soon enough, but decided to show my trust in the two of them by telling them about our next area of operations in advance.
The three of us huddled up at the corner of the large table we were using while Dorian, Opie, Edmund, and Kurt were drinking at inhuman speeds the slightly-above average ale on offer at the tavern. We discussed the particulars of where exactly we would be headed, which also served as a lecture on general knowledge which was at my benefit for the most part. Cameron and Fisk explained the state of affairs in the areas where Aswang was spoken, which gave me a good idea of where the next place we were going would be.
Cameron brought up an interesting comment during these discussions, regarding the background of our band’s captain. He and all the other ‘big-wigs’ in the band were all from the same place, which was his theory due to their similar accents. There was also the matter of them not behaving as usual mercenaries would, having a sense of loyalty to Captain Lydon that was unusual in the mercenary profession, but would be expected in others.
Could there be another reason besides just making money in our going south? That was something that I’d have to ask Gorkas when I built up enough of a rapport, or when they would feel the need to share this with me themselves. The following morning I awoke in much greater spirits, as I had held back on drinking too much, only partaking when it was expected of me to toast.
We had many such opportunities, and every member of our squad including those who were no longer with us were remembered by all, alcohol drowning our collective sorrows. But since I went into that tavern with a goal in mind I didn’t drink for recreation, which could not be said of my squad mates. Dorian in particular could be seen holding up a pale Edmund, who was not used to drinking that much alcohol. They were thankfully near the latrine pit area, so the foul smell of vomit would be right at home with the others.
Giving Dorian a thumbs up to show him my appreciation for taking care of the youngest member of the squad, I went and found Gorkas to understand how long we would be staying in Galles. He was already up and about, keeping busy just for the sake of it, probably enjoying the authority of a platoon-leader. I was one of five squad-leaders under his command, the others were nice enough to me, not seeing me as much of a threat to their own position and treating me amicably after Gorkas made the introductions.
He stated that we would begin recruiting for replacements up to the current size of the band, which meant that I would be getting three more men to fill out the squad at some point. There was still the necessity to get further south to sell the Lenaian warhorses, as they would not fetch a high-enough price this close to Lenay itself. The armor and weapons however, at least those which were in an adequate enough state would need to be put to use, so by hiring some willing bodies to wear them in Galles, it could lessen the strain on the camp helpers, and also begin the training of new Backhand Blow mercenaries early.
Since we had some free time I decided to fall back to the routine that I used back in Verorum, which was swordsmanship training with breaks in between where I would learn Aswang and also meditate should the opportunity arise. There was no need to keep an eye out for commissions just yet, since the band was moving. This meant that my only duty was to make sure that the squad I was in charge of was healthy, and ready for combat should the need arise.
Since we had not practiced too much ever since the Blackseed campaign began, I dragged Dorian and the two Westmontian brothers with me for some swordsmanship training. It actually enticed Kurt and Cameron to come join us since they both didn’t have much to do at the moment, although Fisk excused himself and went into the city.
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Although we didn’t fight too much during the campaign, the effect it had on my mind was still felt, and I felt much more centered and calm when facing the blades of Dorian who was usually a pain in the ass to deal with due to his speed. We started out going through the forms after a few spars to warm us up, after which we went through the warthog forms together on a field of grass within seeing distance of the main camp.
Since we were synchronized in our movements, some of our fellow mercenaries stood and watched us from afar, with some laughter reaching us; carried by the wind. The others wouldn’t do much practice apart from the bare minimum, trusting in their own experience and instincts to keep them safe throughout any troubles they might face. The number of mercenaries who held such views decreased drastically after the rude awakening that was the Lenaian cavalry charge, the deaths of over thirty mercenaries having such an effect on the band.
When we became aware of the laughter, Dorian and I shared a look which conveyed more than I could say with words, we both pitied the fools who would laugh at those who would train hard. They might be safe for now, but without constant training it was unlikely they would keep their edge for too long, at which point it would be our turn for laughter.
Since Fisk wasn’t around today I decided to not bother the tired Edmund and Opie too much and just asked them if we could try and speak in Aswang as much as possible, apart from the times when it was absolutely necessary for me to get my points across, to which they agreed. Galles was located near the Eastern Shon river so I chose that as the point where I would meditate. It had been a while since I cleaned myself properly as well so I stripped all of my armor and clothes off quickly, and dove into the river where the water felt divine against my skin.
I didn’t want to stay in it too long though, always keeping my possessions close enough that I would be able to spot anyone approaching them. This was still a concern of mine, as the memory of losing Des and most of my belongings made me almost paranoid about having anything else stolen, which was why I walked for a good forty minutes or so south along the river before deciding the surroundings were remote enough that other passer-bys would be unlikely in the short term.
The fact that I still had three gold coins also played a factor, as this was the greatest wealth I had possessed in many months, this would also be important funds for when I made my own way, a new horse would definitely be a necessity. It also wouldn’t hurt to learn some hunting skills, but then I would need to obtain a ranged weapon, something that I had not seen thus far in anyone’s possession in the band. The idea of being able to procure food independently and at no cost was very appealing, but that brought with it its own set of problems.
The more personal one was the fact that skinning and cleaning kills was not entirely pleasant, and an arduous task by itself. The other more notable issue was that I was aware of the existence of laws in certain places where any animal that resides on a particular stretch of land would belong to one noble or another. Should I be caught ‘stealing’ what was theirs by law, it would be within their rights to treat me as they wished, as the concept of human rights eluded the minds of this world.
I’d have to ask around my squad, since I was sure that almost all of them with the exception of Fisk had commoner upbringings, the ‘common sense’ they had acquired over the years would help me steer clear of getting involved with noble problems. After a fruitful meditation session by the river, with some time dedicated to making water shoot out further into the river, I walked back with better spirits.
The roar of the river as it moved downstream was very calming, and it reminded me of the sound of an AC back on Earth, the constant sound of which I found pleasant as I drifted off to sleep on many nights. I only began seeing other people closer to the water as the walls of Galles came into view, which was a good sign as far as I was concerned. I didn’t feel eager to let a random traveler see me performing sorcery near the river, little as that chance may be.
The method I usually used didn’t show anything except for some birds who were sitting at a position that was elevated, and made me conclude that it was not a human around whom the arcane power was moving. I still couldn’t differentiate perfectly without a line of sight between life forms of similar size, but I was sure that if I had the opportunity to try this on a test dummy regularly, this skill would become even more useful.
I spent the rest of the day near the tent, not practicing swordplay any further and just working on some physical fitness exercises, since I had nothing much else to do. The whole squad with the exception of Fisk who had not yet returned ate dinner in the same place as the rest of the band, with many still missing as they were spending lavishly the money they had just earned.
This mentality was something I understood, but thought flawed and counterproductive, if not outright hedonistic. Mercenary work was dangerous, yes, but the response to this danger shouldn’t be what many others in Backhand Blow and what I expected other bands to do and just spend while one was still alive. I wasn’t all too keen on continuing past the initial six month contract, but if I were I would save every copper available up until the point where I had enough to comfortably live out the rest of my life.
This could be done in what I assumed was no longer than ten years, provided good luck of course. A lack of formal education didn’t bode well for long-term thinking among the populace though, so I could see how the logical conclusion to having the option for pleasure at the moment would be more appealing than the responsible option, so even if Fisk were to return destitute and happy I would not judge him personally.
The rest of us had pleasant conversation over the not-so-pleasant gruel, and were surprised when we returned to our squad tent and found a sober Fisk standing there with an item in his hand. He greeted us and then approached me and requested a conversation in the tent, which I originally thought he wanted done privately. He dismissed my concern and invited the others to sit in, showing his purchase that I did not recognize in his hand.
The thing that he bought had a wooden exterior, and folded in half like a portable chess set of sorts. On the inside however was a rough-looking surface which I dared not touch for fear that I would alter it. Fisk nodded to me as he saw me reluctant to touch it, and I gently laid my fingers on it, careful not to apply much pressure, as I felt at first touch that the surface was malleable with something small like a fingernail.
He called this a ‘Slate’ which only made up half of his purchases for the day, the other was revealed from the contents of his coin purse and looked like a short metal rod which he called a ‘Stylus’. He explained his absence by saying he asked around the entirety of Galles for one of these, having a lot of trouble as those who had them did not particularly want to part with them. He eventually found an older looking one used by a peddler who traveled from place to place in his younger years and managed to buy it for a bargain price.
He explained his purchase by saying that it had been a very long time since had practiced his own writing, and thought it a good idea to have something like this on hand going forward. He then explained that he would be willing to use the slate and stylus as teaching tools for Aswang, which I was very grateful for.
Even though this would usually be the time that we would all nod off, the sun having disappeared from the sky for a few hours, the excitement with his new purchase and my own interest in the tools function keeping us awake longer than the others.
The two of us were the only ones who could write after all, and while the uneducated members of our squad would be more keen to learn than the average commoner, the fact that it was late and that all of us had done swordsmanship practice and some joined me for my physical training in the afternoon discouraged them.
The slate was wooden on the outside, but the inner part was covered in a chalk-like substance, this allowed Fisk to use the stylus to gently engrave his own name in Aswang on the slate. He then casually offered me the tool, and in the excitement of the moment I almost wrote down ‘Leon’ instead of my current name on the slate. My writing was much slower than his own, but by the end of it the name ‘Lev’ which looked almost entirely similar to the Rahlian alphabet was engraved on Fisk’s new teaching tool.
***
The Backhand Blow camp was shrouded almost entirely in darkness except for the few torches in the perimeter and a gentle glow coming from the biggest tent dead-center of the campsite. Inside Captain Lydon, Vice-Captain Werley, and Recruiter Alula were strategizing over the future plans for the mercenary band, the focus point of which was the replenishment of the band's numbers.
It was common knowledge among mercenaries that bands which did not recruit the deficit in their usual numbers at the earliest opportunity tended to never achieve their previous numbers again, which was the reason that they were still in Galles although they required only a few hours in the city in order to move further south.
Their recruitment efforts were not going swimmingly however, the Duke took many able-bodied men with him in his Levy which had still not been disbanded, the campaign not being completely over as his force was still useful to intimidate other nobles who might have similar ideas to the Lord of Blackseed.
“Are you sure that we cannot replenish our numbers entirely in the Duchy?” Asked Captain Lydon, not pleased with his original plan becoming unfeasible.
Werley and Alula both nodded, after which the recruiter spoke up. “Under normal circumstances we would have no problem recruiting even one hundred men here, as the lives of the peasants could not exactly be called prosperous. With the levy raised however, we would be lucky to recruit twenty, and that would be after at least another week” Alula answered, showing sincerity in his words.
“We don’t have a week, how much can you get done in another two days?” Queried Werley, speaking the same words that were on Lydon’s mind.
“Another ten perhaps, in addition to the seven who have already joined up” Alula guessed, although this was an optimistic one.
“That’ll have to do, we can get the men we need in Humis” Lydon announced, eliciting a concerned look from Alula.
“‘They’ might not look kindly on our enlistment efforts” Alula advised, in case Lydon was not aware already.
“I’ll grease the palms of the virtuous priests, that should satisfy them enough” Lydon stated resolutely, although both Werley and Alula showed unease at the prospect of recruiting in Renia; The Devout Republic.