The city of Ricortia was a beleaguered walled city in the southern reaches of the kingdom. Winter was still several months away yet this city was already cold in silent flakes. Cold wind blanketed the cobbled streets and thatched rooftops, even biting through the thickest of cloaks. The air was heavy with the stench of disease and hopelessness. The once-vibrant market square was now a ghostly remnant of its former self, populated by haggard faces and hollow eyes.
Amidst this desolation, the city gates had opened to a strange group of people aside from the usual traders and peddlers. Men in armor in various standards and banners.
Some call them mercenaries, some as sellswords, or for larger groups as free companies but they all meant the same thing. Common men who took up arms then sold their services of violence for coin.
As soon as the sentries at the gates allowed their entry, these soldiers of fortune just kept pouring in. Their presence however did not ease the fear in the eyes of the citizens as it only increased the already tense atmosphere. The city’s inhabitants, wrapped in layers of threadbare clothing, watched with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as the soldiers trudged through the snow, their breaths visible in the frigid air.
Children, their cheeks rosy from the cold, peered from behind their mothers’ skirts and houses’ windows, pointing at the various crests and banners that adorned the mercenaries’ gear who passed in their streets. Play in a guessing game and dream in their world of fantasies of one day going into a grand adventure as a mercenary slaying dragons and monsters.
Whispers rippled through the neighborhood near the gates, speculating on the reason for this sudden influx.
“Why so many mercenaries?” a blacksmith’s apprentice asked for he was one of the first to see the entry of these sellswords. He watched a group of rugged men and women in armors with banners not belonging to their overlord, strode passed their smith.
“War,” replied the blacksmith, his tone grim. “The duke must be gathering forces.”
“It was obvious with the arrival of Hussarian Order last week.”
Then another band of soldiers entered their city gates. They were different from those before them as their armor was glinting with a golden tint even in the muted light.
These mounted soldiers moved with order and discipline, their golden armor contrasting starkly against the dirt-covered ground. Their large and bulky warhorses in plate armor, breathed in hot steam as if they were steeds from hell itself. Their insignia, a flaming golden star over a flayed man, was emblazoned on their breastplates, shields, and banners.
At the head of the company was a man who seemed to embody the harshness of the northern winter itself. He had a rugged face, marked with the lines of countless battles, and eyes as cold and sharp as icicles.
“They looked like knights in shining armor.” A young woman, still remembering the tales of chivalry from her grandmother, gazed longingly at these gold-clad soldiers. But the mercenaries and free companies who already entered the city and were resting on the sides of the main city street immediately recognized the insignia.
“It’s the Goldbrand Company.”
The mercenaries looked at them with disdain and hostility while civilians watched in awe and dreamy gaze. The disciplined formation and the aura of confidence they exuded were in stark contrast to the ragtag groups of other sellswords that had preceded them.
The gawking peasants, militia, mercenaries, and peasants eyed their columns and noticed something other than men, carriages, and horses.
“A-are those direwolves?!”
“T-that’s a bear!”
“Why did they allow these beasts inside?”
The women quickly carried their curious children back to their houses while the men put up a large distance away from their long carriage train. Letting them pass unimpeded by any person or carriage to their destination.
One of the company’s lieutenants, Tresmer, took in the scene, her sharp eyes noting the myriad of banners fluttering in the cold wind. Her attention was not on the shocked and panicking people around them but was busy inspecting the insignias.
“We’ve already got quite the interesting mix of gathering here,” Tresmer muttered to her captain, Vulkrun, with her voice barely audible due to the clopping over the freezing stone road under her warhorse hooves. “There are more free companies than just individual mercenaries or even regular soldiers.”
Vulkrun nodded, his gaze following Tresmer’s. Banners of various free companies were prominently displayed, each with its own signature armor and insignia. The White Horse Company, known for their swift cavalry, had their distinctive white plumes visible even from a distance. They were previously known in the East. The Black Tower Company, clad in dark, imposing armor, stood like sentinels amidst the crowd. They were called the Illumaine’s guardian after they successfully defended a barony on their own against a horde of goblins. The Rylass Dagger Company, with their sleek, almost reflective armor, moved with fluid grace, known for their great contribution to the victory over the Vanes. The Rosebud Company, their armor adorned with intricate rose engravings, was a rising free company from the Mede Island Kingdoms. The Brotherhood of Axe, heavily armored and wielding massive double-handed axes reflects their origin and ferocious history as bodyguards in the the Vrezvy’s City States.
“They’ve all come for the same reason as us,” Nimea said, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Gold.”
Tresmer chuckled, though his eyes remained vigilant.
“Seems like a lot of competition for the duke’s coin.”
“Competition?” Vulkrun scoffed. “This war is going to drag on longer than anyone anticipates. They’re not going to last or even stay once they find what kind of war they are facing.”
“The longer it takes, the more gold we’ll swim in.” Torus inserted.
“Don’t worry. Plenty of gold to go around for those who are capable to survive.”
“Wait, what do you mean they are not going to stay long?” Tresmer heard Vulkrun’s words and asked. “Why?”
“I heard we are facing the best of the best the continent has to offer.” He replied.
“Who?”
“Crusaders.” He grinned. Before she could ask further, he led his warhorse forward, making them catch up to him.
As they passed through the market square, the mercenaries of the Free Company of Goldbrand kept their formation tight, their golden armor drawing admiring and envious glances from the other mercenaries and the beleaguered citizens alike. The sight of such a well-organized and elite group brought a glimmer of hope to some and a reminder of the brutal conflict ahead to others. They were followed by their long line of carriage trains that carried their supplies, support units, and camp followers.
“Goldbrand Company?” a voice called from the side. It was a young messenger, bundled against the cold, who hurried to keep pace with the company lead column.
“Yes. I am Captain Vulkrun, commander of this mercenary band.”
“The marshal awaits you at the main keep.”
Vulkrun nodded, signaling to his men to continue their march toward the heart of the city. As they approached the keep, the sight of the other mercenary companies gathered outside did little to diminish their resolve. Instead, it strengthened their resolve to prove themselves the best among equals. The normal exchange of grunts and intimidating stare contests were already starting as they passed the curious and also frustrated mercenaries to see more competition.
The city’s inhabitants, wrapped in layers of threadbare clothing, watched with a mixture of interest and apprehension as the soldiers of fortune in gilded armor trudged through their main streets, their breaths visible in the frigid air.
“Freya, what do you make of this city?” Vulkrun asked, his voice a low rumble as they walked side by side.
“I heard from my sisters that 40 years ago, this city was a former slavers hub. Although I don’t see any semblance of that. They probably cleaned this city after the Holy See and the previous kings banned the slave trade.”
“Ironic when they demonized slavery but promoted serfdom in the peasantry.” Tresmer scoffed.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Hypocrisy is one of the natural things in both religion and politics.” Torus chimed in.
Their company was guided by the messenger and marched through the freezing streets of Ricortia, eventually arriving at the imposing main keep that was protected by a tall and thick stone wall. They heard that this was formerly the home of Baron Baldev, the mayor of this city and now it had been repurposed to become the headquarters for the duke’s forces in the region. As they approached, the banners of various noble houses fluttered in the cold wind.
“Freya, find our company a good area to set up for our camp in the city, preferably near this keep and near clean drinking water. Have the men raise the camp early before others arrive and take up the space. More free companies are coming. And also purchase in bulk for our food, water, and alcohol. In a city with this many mercenaries and with more still on their way, the price of food and water will surely increase.”
“Don’t forget the refugees who will surely take up much of the food supply in this city.” Nimea whistled.
“Yes, commander.” Freya nodded.
“I will meet the grandmaster along with Tresmer and a few other men for the signing of our contract. Don’t forget to buy cattle also for our sentries. The wolves will need as much meat in the upcoming winter season. Get as much as you can.”
“Yes, yes, get us the best contract captain,” Nimea said as she took over the lead train of their carriages.
Four of his mercenaries and Tresmer dismounted then entered the keep with him in their full gold suit of armor, obviously to make the best impression on their would-be employer.
“This way ser.” The messenger led them inside. The grand hall was bustling with activity. Noblemen and knights discussed strategies and logistics, their voices echoing off the stone walls. The hall’s transformation from a humble home into a command center was apparent, though the air was still heavy with tension and unease.
Vulkrun led his men through the throng, their golden armor drawing gazes from every corner. At the head of the hall, surrounded by advisors and guards, was a man in brown robes which was a strange sight as he was surrounded by fully armed and metal-clad knights and soldiers.
“Grandmaster, the representative of the free company, Goldbrand is here. Captain, this is Grandmaster Claude of the Hussarian Order. The appointed marshal of Duke Alexander for the southern front.”
“Grandmaster,” Vulkrun announced, his voice cutting through the murmurs about his company. “I am Vulkrun, captain of the Goldbrand Free Company. We have come to offer our services to the duke.”
The grandmaster’s piercing gaze fell upon Vulkrun and his men. He nodded curtly and continued.
“Welcome, Captain Vulkrun. We have heard much of your… Goldbrand Company. Especially your company’s past background two years ago in our war with the Kingdom of Aelyria under the service of Count Harkon was quite a record. That is good. My liege needs skill, men, and experience in the art of war. And we are curious to hear the terms you seek for your service in these troubled times.”
So, it seemed to him that they were letting Vulkrun make a demand which was what he wanted so he did not hesitate.
“Our company provides a fully equipped two hundred eighty-seven mounted soldiers all of them were specialists as sappers and engineers which would be very useful in sieges. You can send one of your men to inspect our numbers and the composition later if you want to confirm.”
“Engineers… wait, did you just mention that your entire company were engineers and sappers?”
“Yes, all of us were trained and experienced in siege warfare.”
The nobles and knights who heard his claims stirred.
“Surely you’re not exaggerating things to make yourself more valuable?” one of them asked in a mocking tone. But the grandmaster was the one who answered for him.
“I see, so that’s why you’re always present in every siege and sought out by every army in the western kingdoms…” This silences the aristocrats who surround the grandmaster. “That’s good. So state your terms.”
“And in return, we require a weekly fee of 25 gold coins per man with an initial company payment of gold coins in 2,400 rud weight. And at the end of the contract, we require final payment of gold coins in 7,800 rud weight.” Vulkrun said.
A murmur of shock and disbelief swept through the hall. Nobles and knights exchanged incredulous glances, their whispers growing louder. What Vulkrun demanded for the initial and final payment were worth eight chests of gold coins.
“Gold coins? The mercenary companies before you were only paid in silver.” One of the noblemen scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “And gold coins for what? Wearing shiny armor? Are you melting the gold and pasting it to your armors? You lot aren’t even knights.”
“We can buy ten or more mercenary companies with such a fee that is also ten times your numbers.”
“Who the fuck are you to demand gold coins in weight?”
“Greedy mercenaries, always after coin. You should be grateful for the honor of fighting for the duke. You fucking commoners should already feel the privilege of having a noble acknowledging your meager existence.” Another noble sneered.
Vulkrun remained unfazed by the insults. He turned his gaze to the grandmaster, who raised a hand to silence the dissent.
“I know of your reputation, Captain Vulkrun. I’ve heard of the rumors that the Goldbrand’s very name was synonymous with and only accepts payment in gold… and it seems those are true.” The grandmaster said calmly. “But your terms are steep. I am prepared for a weekly payment of 5 gold coins for each of your soldiers. Which is by the way, already worth more than the weekly payment of 3 gold coins to other mercenary companies. And of course, this comes with a guaranteed additional form of compensation – we will provide food, wine and medical provisions, ammunition, and the right to plunder in the duration of your employment in three months. Perhaps, I should also add a separate payment of 8 gold for each of your losses in every battle.”
A satisfied smile tugged at the corner of Vulkrun’s mouth.
“My company is not blind to the current state of affairs of this kingdom. Right now, a plague is ravaging your farmlands, the church-led nobles have defected and are also pillaging those who refuse to support Count Reimblitz, the blockade of your only port in Avianca, the increasing raids of the western horse lords and with winter approaching, we are far from the harvesting season. This could only mean that the food would become scarce which would probably turn into a famine. As such, you could not afford to keep the consistent supply of such resource.”
The grandmaster nodded and answered.
“This also meant that we were the only ones who could provide and sell you the provisions when that time came. That is why I am proposing a reduction of your payment with the remaining sum supplemented by grain, greens, and ale.”
“That is something that my company will face in another time. The standard that I have offered is our regular rate in consideration of your situation and the risk that my company will be facing. We have never compromised in this matter. And most of all, we know that you wanted the war in the southern regions of the kingdom to be put down as soon as possible and focus your attention on the east and west.”
“You dare!” a knight couldn’t hold himself and yelled his anger.
But the grandmaster went silent upon hearing this statement and contemplated the matter as he looked over the document, maps, and the information he had about the Goldbrand Company, weighing the scales. The quiet moment made the gritting teeth and heated breaths from the angry lords and nobles who just heard the exchange, louder than normal. The mercenaries however were steady and silent as they were waiting for the reply from the grandmaster. Their captain being the only one who had his face exposed while the rest were covered in masks or under the sallet helmets made them unreadable. Then Vulkrun broke the silence with another shocking statement.
“And we have additional demands,” he continued, his voice unwavering. “We require 100 gold coins for every battle, paid after each engagement. Another 200 gold coins for missions outside of battle, such as fetching, requisitioning supplies, or reconnaissance. A separate fee of 300 gold coins after every siege requires our construction of the siege engines. Additionally, 50 gold coins for keeping watch each day, and 300 gold coins for every victory.”
The hall finally erupted into chaos. Knights and nobles simultaneously unsheathed their blades, their faces red with fury. The sound of steel scraping against leather filled the air as they slowly advanced toward the Goldbrand Company mercenaries.
“You dare demand more outrageous sums?” a knight shouted with his sword pointed at Vulkrun. “You insult the duke with your greed!”
The members of the Goldbrand Company stood their ground, their expressions indifferent. They did not flinch, even as the blades of the knights glinted menacingly in the torchlight.
Then something clicked in the grandmaster’s mind after seeing the indifference of the Goldbrand mercenaries. He quickly realized the implications behind the captain’s steep initial payment demand.
“Anyone who raises their weapon against us that will endanger ourselves or the Goldbrand will face immediate retaliation. And I assure you, it will be without mercy.” Vulkrun’s voice was calm but carried an unmistakable threat. “If you cannot cater to our terms then we will take our service elsewhere.”
The grandmaster immediately stood with his voice that echoed with authority.
“Enough!” he commanded, his gaze sweeping across the hall. “Sheathe your weapons.”
Reluctantly, the aristocrats around him hid back their weapons, then the grandmaster turned to the captain.
“Your terms huh….” His tone was both curious and shrewd, and a slow, calculating smile spread across the grandmaster’s face. “I see, so that’s how it is.”
Vulkrun just shrugged.
“Very well, Captain Vulkrun. We accept your terms. To seal this contract, I’ll even add another 1,000 rud of gold coins upfront.” The grandmaster clapped, gesturing to the priests who were standing on the sides to start writing the contract.
This was met with wide-open eyes and shocked faces of the nobles and knights. The contract, drawn up swiftly by scribes, was brought forth and presented two scrolls. Both the grandmaster and Vulkrun inspected each copy.
“This man can read?” one of the nobles spoke. Vulkrun just rolled his eyes and continued inspecting two scrolls to confirm that there was no deception on both copies of the contract. Then after the two finished, formalities followed.
Vulkrun stepped forward, presenting his signet ring that have the same insignia as his banners. He pressed his ring into the hot wax, leaving the unmistakable mark of the Goldbrand Company. Several priests, standing by with incense and holy symbols, began to chant prayers, sanctifying the contract.
“By the grace of the Great Eye, I pledge my loyalty and service to Duke Alexander of House Barclay. I vow to upload his words and execute my duties with unwavering dedication and will. With the Holy Eye as my witness!” Vulkrun declared, his voice resonating through the hall.
The grandmaster mirrored Vulkrun’s actions, pressing his seal into the wax and saying his oath.
“With this oath, I, Claude, grandmaster of the Hussarian Order, bind our agreement. May the Almighty Eye witness this pledge,” he intoned solemnly.
The hall was silent, save for the murmurs of the priests. The air felt heavy with the weight of the vows exchanged. As the priests finished their prayers, the Grandmaster extended his hand to Vulkrun.
“Welcome to our cause, Captain. I shall call upon you tomorrow. For now, take your rest after a long journey.”
“Yes, milord.” Vulkrun however did not accept his exchange and instead just saluted with his gauntlet hitting his breastplate, then he turned and left the hall silently with his men.
“This man is as disrespectful as ever.” a lord scoffed and clicked his tongue.
“No, it seems that he knew his status. A man like him should never think of accepting an equal handshake with us nobles. A brilliant way to test that mercenary, milord.” Another noble said and praised the grandmaster. Then once again, the lords and vassals around him started discussing what happened but Claude was already planning something in his mind.