1 month
The rate Daniel's surviving mercenary group was leveling here in the wilderness was absolutely unbelievable. Daniel used to be lucky to get a single level every couple of weeks, now he was getting anywhere from two levels a week, to two levels a day depending on how active their hunting parties were.
It wasn’t free experience though, each time a group ventured into the forest, they came back smaller. Not always the nine-man blood bath they had their first week, but something to remind them that they were not welcome here. The creatures they had to hunt for food would be the target of high ranked extermination quests back home. Here in the western wilds they were the lowest rung of an increasingly brutal food chain.
On multiple occasions, hunting parties would break rank and run away from a quarry they faced, convinced they couldn’t defeat it and limped back into camp battered and defeated. This would only make the gap between meals wider, the pains in their stomachs deeper. During one of these more prolonged famines, the mage squad was convinced they could use all of their stealth spells together and successfully escape.
Their burnt bodies were dropped into the camp that night, the only explanation a distant wingbeat.
Daniel, strangely enough, was thriving. His [Junior Mercenary] class was close to capped, and all of his spear skills were already maxed out at fifty. The young man had a sort of grim determination about him, a refusal to give up. While some of his comrades would wait and rest between hunts, or refuse to leave camp at all, Daniel had been out on every expedition so far. Scratching out levels and experience with the solemn realization that it was his only hope of survival.
At the end of 1 month, they’d still only seen the dragon a handful of times, and only fought him that original first night.
23 mercenaries remained.
3 months
During the third month, the dragon became a more consistent fixture. During this time was when the mercenaries learned of its ability to shapeshift. A man in glistening plate armor burnished a deep crimson red, walked into their camp, and hurled a tree branch through the chest of a young lance corporal. In truth, the attack could have been worse, that boy was barely hanging on in the first place. The attack was over before anyone had a chance to react, and their assailant simply walked back into the jungle laughing, shrugging off every attack that was thrown their way by scrambling mercs.
The message was clear. “You’re never safe, if you rest too deeply, you will die.” Daniel took it to heart.
He’d already been sleeping with his spear in hand, now he made a point to remove as little armor as possible in the evening. He kept his leathers as well maintained as he could, and only removed them occasionally to wash in a small stream whenever he got too dirty. Never all at once though, only pieces at a time. He would rather it take twice as long to do a simple task than to be caught in a compromised state.
The idea had already crystalized in his mind long ago, but when he saw the Lance Corporal die with a look of confusion on his face, Daniel admitted it to himself. “If I’m going to die. It’s going to be on my terms. I won’t let that fucker kill me for free”
Unfortunately, Daniel’s next chance to “die on his terms” would come much sooner than he anticipated. Not even a full week after the first attack from the dragon in human form, a tall, slender woman in formalwear strode into the camp casually. At this point, the few remaining mercenaries were far too wary of falling for such a trick a second time. They were up with weapons in hand within moments.
“Relax, please, I’m not here to fight you” A melodic voice called out. As Daniel rushed back into the clearing they’d carved their camp from, he got his first unobstructed look at their ‘visitor’.
He knew ‘she’ was the dragon, but the fierce fire-red hair, slender frame, and tanned skin still tugged a reaction in the back of his mind. She wore a deep ruby evening dress, completely out of place in the midst of a jungle, the fabric of which faded into flickering flames near her ankles. A subtle cloud of steam rose up around her, everywhere the morning dew or jungle mists struck the dragons form the water boiled into vapor instantly. Hot in more ways than one.
“I would like to speak with you, with one of you, assuming of course there’s anyone left with enough of a spine to stand up and have a civilized conversation” The dragon explained, walking deeper into the camp from the edge of the clearing. The mercenary camp was not an organized endeavor, cook fires, shoddy shelters, and the scraps of a dozen different attempts at survival were littered everywhere. Bones and branches alike snapped beneath the woman’s stride until she found a felled tree to sit on. The wood groaned in protest before the dragon simply started hovering a few inches above it, visibly annoyed by the weakness of the wood.
During this display, all the other mercenaries were stunned silent, like prey gazing into the eyes of a lion they were gripped with fear. Not necessarily a fear of the dragon, which wasn’t new, but a fear of the unknown. Every encounter with this creature ended in death, but it was always violent and brutal death. Mercenaries could handle violence and brutality to some degree, a change in tactics brought a change in their scenario, and sadly none of them were prepared for it.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Their command structure was shattered, and the few ranking officers left had given up on any semblance of control in these desperate times. Orders were replaced with tips to survive, rigid ranks by any formation that worked. Desperation had replaced discipline.
That same desperation is what drove Daniel forward. He was desperate not to see anyone else die, desperate to make the dragon look him in the eyes if he was going to be killed. His legs were moving before he realized it, drawing looks from all the other mercenaries. Daniel wanted control over something when all else had been taken from him, he could at least choose how to die, right?
Unfortunately not.
“Good. I like you. Sit.” the dragon growled out at soon as Daniel came close, the final word carrying with it a power that rippled through the air. Every assembled fighter immediately dropped to the ground, unable to deny the command.
“Very good, now let me explain what brings me here” The dragon began to speak to them as if lecturing a classroom full of children. “This one here.” She began, gesturing to Daniel. “Gets a free pass for today since he seems to be the only one here with a spine. The rest of you will have to work for it. You’ve been here in my territory for a long while now and I’m starting to get bored” The dragon explained with a sigh, even their gentle exhale tangibly hot in the jungle air.
A quick headcount showed exactly twenty-two mercenaries in the clearing counting Daniel. Twenty-one had to “work” for their pass.
“Half of you are going to die. The other half I will leave alone for a time. If you try to leave this camp, I’ll kill you. If you try to kill my new friend” the dragon waved a delicate hand in Daniel’s direction, still unable to overcome the magic compelling him to sit- “I’ll kill you too. If there are more than ten of you left alive by sundown, I’ll kill everyone except this one. Do I make myself clear?” She asked the assembled fighters, only getting a few muted nods in response.
“Do I make myself clear?” the dragon repeated, magic once again flowing through their words and compelling the assembled company to vigorously shout “YES!” as if responding to a ranked officer.
“Very good! You may begin” the dragon dismissed her magical hold on them and turned to face Daniel more directly. To his credit, Daniel watched every movement the dragon made with complete focus. Eyes constantly searching for even the smallest slip-up, the tiniest opening. Nothing came. Every motion the dragon made felt deliberate and planned, taunting him with fluid grace and an unconcerned attitude. The dragon did not consider Daniel a threat.
Meanwhile, Chaos erupted around them. The assembled crew had initially paused, shocked and in disbelief at the apparent demand that they kill the friends they survived alongside until now. That is, until a particularly defeatist young recruit, barely hanging on as is, saw a chance for his death to buy something for the group and slit his own throat. That opened the floodgates.
“Hello there human” the dragon seemed to purr, her voice melodic and smooth. Her eyes were sharp as daggers however and undercut any feeling of safety with the clear cunning of a predator. “My name is Dieva, lady of cinders. What do your people call you?” She asked, introducing herself casually and ignoring the all-out brawl that was developing around them.
“My name is Daniel Stesk.” He replied as firmly as he could force himself to, clearing the taste of bile in his mouth by quickly spitting over his shoulder. At the sight of the gesture, the dragon Dieva arched an eyebrow curiously. “Do you find my company distasteful Daniel?”.
“Not what I was spitting about, but generally, yeah.” Daniel grunted in response. “I try to avoid speaking with coldblooded killers if you’d pardon the lizard pun” he explained, trying to elicit a rise from Dieva and take his death into his own hands. Unfortunately, she took his comments in stride and just smiled back.
“Do you blame a bird for flying over your house Daniel?” Dieva asked, abruptly changing the direction of the conversation. A puzzled look must have passed over his face since she raised a hand and continued. “Most creatures wouldn’t blame a bird for flying or a fish for swimming, nor so a predator for hunting a bird or a fish. We don’t ascribe morals to nature because we know there are none.”
“This is different!” Daniel interrupted, standing from his seat in indignation, finally overcoming what lingering magic compelled him to sit. “Thinking, speaking, intelligent creatures are capable of being more than our base urges. Surely just by having this conversation, you can understand that?” In his emotional state, surrounded by the clanging of metal and the iron stench of blood, Daniel had forgotten who he was talking to.
“Daniel, would you kindly stop breathing?” Dieva asked the magic in her words forcing him to obey. His lungs caught in his chest, and his muscles began screaming as his throat closed. Panic quickened the onset of a struggle. “The point I was trying to make” the dragon continued “Was that I do not blame you for your nature any more than I consider my own. For you to ascribe evil to what is an instinct core to my being would be like, well, if I blamed you for breathing.” She explained, standing off the rock and tossing an absentminded phrase over her shoulder to allow him to breathe once more.
“I do what feels natural, as do you. There is no reason for either of us to worry so deeply about it. I look forward to speaking with you again, you’ve been most entertaining.” And with the final word she sauntered off, swaying gently among the jungle fronds until out of sight.
With his antagonistic company gone, the anger burning in Daniel’s ears quickly faded and he soon realized the camp around him had grown silent. Eleven corpses littered the ground, some dead by their own hands, others by the hand of their former comrades. There would be a lot of digging to do. Once the dead were buried, Daniel wanted to reorganize their company. Killing each other didn’t sit well with him, and they would need to find a way to move past it or start trying to survive on their own.
11 mercenaries remaining