This contract ensures that The Last Stand Mercenaries will defend the client and their property from the bandit threat.
Geren leaned back in his desk chair and stretched his arms over his head with his fingers clasped. He disliked paperwork greatly, but it was a crucial aspect to the operations of his mercenary company. As much as he didn’t like the idea and felt the definition was misplaced, the Last Stand Mercenaries were an entity that technically operated as a business. Just as the employees for various other businesses did a job and were paid for it such as a cook at a restaurant or a salesperson at a store, Geren’s crew were technically employees of The Last Mercenaries and were paid for the labor they provided in the form of completing the contracts the company received from clients.
He also never liked the term sellsword. It carried a negative connotation that placed a greater emphasis on making money than helping people, which is what Geren believed being a mercenary was truly all about. But, he couldn’t deny that the label fit quite well from a strict baseline description of the work that mercenaries did. They would take their sword, complete a job, and get paid for it. Even though he felt his crew was different, they were by definition sellswords—they just operated under a singular umbrella Geren was in charge of.
Normally, Jonas was the one to take care of the administrative side of things for the Last Stand Mercenaries, but he had the day off, so the job fell to Geren. Jonas hadn’t wanted the day off, but he was one of those workaholic types that needed to be forced to take a break. Only problem was that Geren’s forcible kindness now left the work to him to see it finished.
Despite his dislike of paperwork, the fact remained that it was still required to be done. So long as their headquarters were located in Davied, and by that virtue within the greater country of Freleria, the money that the company made still had to be tallied and taxed appropriately so that both the city and country were privy to the details and could take their cut.
He sometimes wished he would have built his headquarters just barely inside the border of the Northern Outlands to the east as a means of getting away from it all. Nobody could tax him or his crew there, at least. The thoughts would soon dissipate as quickly as they had materialized in his mind, however, due to the reality there would be no way to actually generate clientele at such a location. Was a nice thought though.
Geren found it amusing that sitting safely at a desk stamping, writing, and filing could be more exhausting than life-or-death combat fighting beasts, bandits, and brigands. But… that was just his perspective, though. He knew that people more normal than him would find his perspective terribly backwards and relish the chance to sit down and take a break from hard labor. He reminded himself regularly that he should be thankful he has a desk and the chance to take a break. Most of his life had been spent pushing his body to its limits in harsh conditions; this current life was supposed to be his reward for surviving all those years.
In truth, he was of course extremely thankful for the chance to run his own company and to kick back and relax occasionally, and he appreciated each one of his crew members. So, by extension, he also had an appreciation for the administrative tasks of documenting jobs and filing tax forms despite his grumblings. The root issue at hand currently could be simplified to the truth that he simply regretted allowing Jonas to ever have any days off.
Returning to the desk, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the surface, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed outwardly, glad to be done with the menial morning duties he had hurried to complete. Though only thirty-five years of age, his hair now contained streaks of gray that provided muted natural accents to the russet color. It didn’t bother him strictly in regards to his appearance, but it did serve as a reminder each time he looked in the mirror that he was not as young as he used to be and that it was okay to take things a little slower sometimes.
This was a reality that he had struggled with consistently in the years between when he had found Lyght and now. The company was getting plenty of work, his people were happy, and he was now a pseudo-father, though he stayed away from the title, feeling that it wasn’t deserved on his part. He didn’t need to take care of everything himself, and could delegate. There were times when it was okay to leave some of today’s problems for tomorrow. It was an adjustment in mindset that was necessary for a man transitioning from life in the field to life in the home & office.
He scratched the stubble around his chin and surveyed the hall before him. The space was entirely open with no rooms save for the kitchen in the back. Stretching across the middle of the floor was a long table where the crew would dine, have meetings, and play games. It was large enough to seat up to twenty people, though they unfortunately did not have that many members at present.
The administration desk he sat at currently was set into a small alcove on the far right of the long room. Shortly ahead of him and to the left was the front entrance, so visitors would be near the desk upon entering. There was no ceiling directly above—it was instead three stories high. The stairwell was in the back of the hall, to his right from where he currently sat. This led up to the second and third floors where a walkway snaked around the rectangular room with doors dotted along the path for the various rooms each Last Stand member called home. It was a simple place, but it served all his and his crews’ needs. There was a beauty in the simplicity and functionality that the mercenary hall offered.
The only other person in the hall with him was Cohn, who was busy counting out stacks of supplies on the long table. He had recovered a cache of stolen goods from a bandit group outside of town and was in the process of identifying where each batch of goods needed to be returned, since the bandits had robbed multiple people and lumped all the spoils together.
Cohn was previously a delinquent youth, but he had really grown up the last couple of years, which Geren greatly appreciated. He wore silver and brown leather armor that looked very similar to Geren’s. His forest green hair sprouted straight up like reeds with the brown headband he wore taking on the appearance of the soil the grassy hair grew from. Like the armor, the headband was also similar to the one Geren himself wore. Cohn would sooner burn the city down than admit it was true, but Geren could tell that he had a strong influence on his nephew, and he was proud of that fact.
He had agreed to take the boy under his wing six years prior as a favor to his sister back in Naj’rahn. Cohn had just recently turned fourteen and had begun associating with the wrong types of people, and his mother felt it would do him good to live with Geren and learn how to grow into a proper man. From Geren’s perspective, this meant he was now in charge of essentially raising two boys in or approaching their early teens, just three years after he had started the Last Stand Mercenaries. Despite all of the challenges he had faced in his life up to that point, this was honestly the one he had felt the least prepared to tackle. Sitting there at the desk now and reflecting, he let out a small exhalation of breath and smiled as he allowed himself to remember that he had done a good job.
Noon was approaching and Geren began wondering what he would do to fill time. Cohn was very particular about getting the goods organized himself since he was most familiar with all of the contents and told Geren with an honest bluntness that he would only get in his way. Lyght was out finishing up the painting retrieval job and would probably be back later that evening. The job itself wouldn’t take long; he may have even finished already. Geren knew the boy would probably disappear somewhere else in the city for a few hours before returning, however.
Though he had received word from Feros a couple days ago that the escort job was finished, the Feroxi would not be back until later tonight or tomorrow. Maris was still gone on her hunt for a beast that had come across the Outlands border, and Serana was in Wallesen visiting her sister. Other crew members were in further reaches of the continent on long-term jobs. Jonas, of course, had the day off.
With the place empty and no other jobs pending at the moment, Geren decided to head upstairs and take a nap. His younger self would have chastised the decision—he could spend that time practicing his swordplay or doing some endurance sprints after all—but that was the beauty of being in charge and able to make his own decisions now.
“I’m heading up to my room for a little while. Come get me if any work comes in,” he called to Cohn as he headed up the stairs. His nephew gave a left-handed thumbs-up as he did not break stride in his writing with his right.
He really has come a long way. He mused to himself as he rounded the corner of the stairwell. The thieving miscreant of several years ago was now diligently documenting details to ensure items were returned to the proper people. There was an irony to it that Geren didn’t think Cohn had really noticed in himself yet.
A loud pounding sound from outside woke Geren up about thirty minutes later. Rousing himself and strapping his sword along his back, he opened the door and peered out over the railing of the walkway down to the lobby below. Cohn was grumbling to himself as he made some quick notes to remember where he was at in the cataloguing before getting up to answer the door.
Who could possibly be knocking? Geren wondered.
Most everyone in Davied knew that they had an open door policy here. People could walk in as they pleased to speak with Geren or any of the other crew members, request a contract, or to check in on the status of an ongoing job. If someone was knocking, it likely meant they were from out of town.
He heard Cohn open the door as he headed back down the stairs. Though he couldn’t make out what was said, he assumed Cohn was sarcastically asking the visitors what they needed. Sarcasm was Cohn’s default persona with newcomers until he let his guard down enough to speak with them normally. Geren couldn’t discern Cohn’s words being said over the sounds of his feet thudding along the steps as he descended, but he could hear the words of a booming voice that he didn’t recognize.
“So you guys are the Last Stand Mercenaries, right?!”, the voice thundered from beyond the entryway.
Geren descended the stairs and looked straight ahead. Cohn was blocking the door so he couldn’t see clearly, but it looked like there were two figures on the other side.
“That’s what the sign says, doesn’t it?” Cohn remarked wryly.
“Well yeah, but I was just making sure.” the voice replied loudly. “Common courtesy and all that! Wanted to make sure you were the Last Stand Mercenaries. I gotta say though, you don’t look like much of a legendary warrior. No offense of course!”
Leaning up against the wall next to the stairwell, Geren tried to suppress a chuckle. He really would look like a smaller, younger version of me if our hair colors matched. That’ll get a rise out of him though I’m sure.
“Oh yeah? Well, what the hell are you anyway? You’re either some type of weird hairless Feroxi or the smallest Gmaas I’ve ever seen. And stop all the yelling—we’re literally just a few feet away from each other.”
Another voice piped up this time from the second figure.
“What my companion means to say is that we were hoping to meet the Unbreakable Wolf. Apologies if that is not you—your build does not fit the description of the man that we were given. My friend… likes to jump to conclusions, however.”
Cohn flushed. “You just said the same thing he did but with more words! Whatever, if you guys wanna meet the old man so badly then get in here and leave me alone.”
Geren heard the more boisterous of the two visitors say something to the other as Cohn walked away. “Didn’t he just say to stop all the yelling and then, you know, started to yell?”
The two followed Cohn into the lobby and Geren could immediately see why Cohn had made the remark he did regarding the one on the left. He stood a couple inches taller than Geren at what he figured to be close to six foot four, had green skin, and long ebony black hair that fell down just past his broad shoulders. His body was naturally muscular and his face was very block-like in structure, defined by hard lines and ridges around his jaw and brow. Although he was indeed on the smaller side in regards to his height—Gmaas could grow to be as large as 8 feet tall in some rare cases, though typically settled in around an average of seven feet—he was still an impressive physical specimen whose strength was obvious at a glance.
He wore chainmail dyed black, with black leather leg armor that was accentuated at the knees with small spiked knee pads. Adding a lighter contrast to the dark armor were vambraces and a large belt that had many leathery tendrils dangling from it, like candles from an upside-down candelabra. The vambraces and belt were made from some kind of animal hide and were a dingy tan color. On the Gmaas’s back was a large greataxe—a fitting weapon for one of such size.
His companion was of much slighter build and seemed to be the younger of the two. Appearing to be a regular human and about the same height as Lyght, he wore a long-sleeved beige shirt underneath a chestnut brown vest. The vest contained a pocket on the left side with a crimson handkerchief visibly poking out just slightly. Trousers that matched the color of the vest and a tie that matched the color of the handkerchief rounded out the stranger’s attire.
All of the clothing was pristinely kept with no wrinkles. Even his weaponry looked well-kept. A rapier was stowed on the left of his waist, while four daggers decorated the belt on his right side. He looked much more formal and well-mannered than his loud companion; their differences in attire complemented their differences in personality well. He had a long face that was devoid of any facial hair, so he was either as young as he initially appeared, or he simply did a very good job of shaving regularly. His blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, though waves of it still flowed down on the sides and covered his ears.
Cohn returned to his seat back at the table and picked up where he left off with his cataloguing, leaving the two strangers standing by the front door alone. Geren smiled and walked forward, extending a hand out as he introduced himself. “I overheard that you boys were looking for me. I’m Geren. Nice to meet you.”
The Gmaas shook his hand first and began to speak in the same loud manner as when he had talked to Cohn. “Now you look more like what I was expecting! Pipsqueak over there really threw me off at first! I’m Gargarel, and this here’s my pal Sol.” He gestured his head to his blonde companion.
Clearing his throat, Sol spoke up. “Troy, actually.”
“Oh, right! This here’s my pal Troy.” Gargarel again did the same gesture in an attempt to properly replay the introduction.
“Sol is a nickname Gargarel has devised for me during our travels. I can’t fathom how or why.” Troy said, pressing a couple fingers to his forehead with a sigh. “A pleasure to meet you, Geren. Apologies for Gargarel’s behavior thus far. He is very… blunt. To a fault, really. You learn to appreciate that side of him though… Eventually.”
Geren laughed as he shook Troy’s hand. “No offense taken here. I can’t say the same for Cohn though.” He nodded in Cohn’s direction. “Anyway, you two are definitely from out of town, huh? Normally, I’d guess that a couple of visitors from out of town were here to place an order for a contract with me, but judging by the weapons you both carry I’d wager you could take care of your own problems. So, what can I do for you?”
This time, Troy spoke first. “Funny you should mention our weapons since we are looking to use them in exchange for coin. Put simply, we’re looking for work. We traveled here hoping to meet you and join your company.” He gave a slight bow as he finished talking.
These two really couldn’t be more different, huh? Geren thought as he crossed his arms and studied the two. We don’t currently have a Gmaas on the crew. Assuming he knows how to use that giant axe of his, I’m sure he’s a talented warrior by virtue of raw strength. Strange that a Gmaas is out traveling around like this, though. Not that I haven’t seen it before. But a Gmaas traveling without other members of their tribe usually means they were banished. And Troy… The long face, sleek frame, eye color matching his hair, and his way of speaking—he’s definitely half Hylennial. And the way he carries himself is like someone born of noble birth. I’m curious what both of their stories are.
“Alright, so why should I let you join?” Geren asked. “What skills do the two of you have to offer? And also—why are you interested in joining? We aren’t exactly low on manpower and we’re completing the jobs we’re being given just fine. Two more members means two more people to take jobs, which means my established crew members would potentially be getting paid less through no fault of their own. You’ve gotta offer some type of real value for me to sign you on.”
Really, Geren didn’t have any internal objections to hiring the two. He took a quick liking to them and he could tell they were both honest people. One through sheer bluntness and the other through a sophisticated grace. But, this was one of the realities of his mercenary company being a business that he had to consider. It was true that more members meant less pay to split between multiple people when jobs were taken, and he had to consider that. If hiring the two would give him some extra manpower to take on more jobs to offset that, however, then there was no reason not to do so—assuming the two could actually fight as they claimed.
He always liked testing people to see what kind of reasoning they could provide for why they wanted to be mercenaries, how they could help, and what skills they had. It had weeded out a fair amount of prospects in the past who were just sellswords looking to sign their name on with his banner, or ignorant kids hoping that becoming a mercenary would lead them to some kind of phantom fame and riches.
Gargarel opened his mouth to speak but was too slow as Troy replied first. “Gargarel is a brilliant fighter—of that I can assure you. As for myself, I will be honest that I am not a very talented mage for combat purposes, but I am able to use some magic that is useful in the realm of espionage. I have trained extensively in the art of fencing and can also fight with daggers, as well as archery. My interest in joining lies in both a desire to better myself and a desire to have somewhere new that I can call home.”
He adjusted his tie before returning his hands being clasped behind his back and continuing. “I am just seventeen, having left home a couple of months ago and unsure of where my life would take me. I will decline to speak of the home that I left for personal reasons, but I will say with conviction that I do not regret the decision. I met Gargarel in Serafah as we were both looking for work, doing odd jobs and the like. We became unlikely friends, and he suggested we make the trip to Davied and join you as he had heard tales of your strength and he wanted to be part of your team. I tagged along mostly in hopes of finding a more stable situation than the day-to-day droll I found myself toiling in previously.”
Geren and Gargarel shared a look, both surprised at how detailed of an explanation Troy gave. Geren smiled and decided to crack a joke to give Gargarel an easy opening; he could tell that the Gmaas was a bit unsure of how to follow that up.
“So tell me Gargarel—how many times did he rehearse that on your journey here?”
Troy furrowed his brow and frowned, visibly offended at the jest. Gargarel did the opposite, laughing and giving a wide grin that revealed eight sharp canines that were like small tusks—four on top and four on bottom—mixed in among the rows of more normal-looking teeth.
Gargarel clapped Troy on the back, still grinning as his companion crossed his arms and looked at him disapprovingly. “Aw don’t take offense. He meant it as a compliment! Well anyway, I’ll keep mine short and sweet. I left my home in Vizam because they kicked me out. This axe here is a family relic of my great-great-great-great-great grandfather that had been on display at home just gathering dust. I decided to take it for myself and make a few modifications but my folks didn’t appreciate it so they kicked me out. I like to fight and I’m looking to make a name for myself, so this seemed like a good place to do both of those!”
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
Geren raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “And what modifications did you make exactly?”
Removing the greataxe from his back, Gargarel walked over to the table and set it down. Geren looked down at it and could see that it had what looked like long pieces of metal woven tightly into strings attached to it that ran from roughly the middle of the axe handle up to the base of the axe head.
“Those are… Definitely modifications. What purpose do they serve?” Geren asked as he ran his fingers along the weapon.
“Magic enhancement.” Gargarel stated simply. “The magic I use affects peoples’ bodies and minds. When I use this baby to make some noise…” He plucked one of the strings and a deep noise reverberated around the large open room. “It makes it easier for the spells to take effect properly on those who hear it. Pretty sweet, huh?”
Geren rubbed his chin as he eyed the strange weapon. “Definitely a unique piece, I’ll give it that.”
Cohn had now walked over, his curiosity apparently overtaking his need to get his work done. “So you both use this thing as a melee weapon and a magic enhancer? Where did you get the idea?”
Shrugging, Gargarel replied. “I dunno. It just seemed like it would be cool to do! I guess maybe seeing street bards and people like that playing on their lutes gave me some inspiration for the initial design. It’s thanks to my buddy Ven that it works the way it does, though. He gave it a sweet thunder enchantment that causes it to give off that booming sound when I strum it. So credit to him for that part!” He picked the strange weapon up and returned it to its place along his back.
Gargarel turned to Gere. “Let’s fight! That’ll be the quickest way to get you to see what we’re capable of!” He shouted unexpectedly.
Geren’s eyes widened in visible surprise before his face returned to a normal rest and he smiled. “Huh, no joke. I haven’t gotten the chance to get out and stretch these old muscles much recently, so you know what? I’ll take you up on that offer. I’ll take you both on, actually,” he said with a wink. “Come on, we have an open yard for training and sparring here in the back.” He walked away while gesturing for them to follow.
“This should be good,” Cohn said with a smirk. “I was about to head out here in a bit, but I’ll watch this first.”
----------------------------------------
“Gargarel, what are you thinking?” Troy hissed quietly, grabbing Gargarel by the shoulder as he began to walk towards the back door. “We show up randomly, he listens to our stories, and then you challenge him? You didn’t run this by me!”
Grinning widely and showing his mix of teeth and fang, Gargarel seemed very pleased with himself. “Don’t worry Sol! Spur of the moment thing, ya know? I just really want to fight him. Maybe it’ll convince him to hire us at the same time!” He laughed as he continued walking onward, leaving Troy looking dumbstruck.
Troy clenched his fists, then released the grip as he slumped in defeat, shaking his head. “This guy…” he grumbled words of displeasure at the traveling companion he had chosen as he followed.
The backyard of the mercenary hall was as open as Geren said it was. A concrete pathway led away from the back door and looped around the open space before coming back to form a complete circle. Several training dummies, targets, and boulders were spaced along the circular pathway. Along the back wall of the building sat multiple racks of weapons containing swords, spears, axes, bows, and more. The center of the concrete circle was a flat area of packed dirt colored brown and gray. It had previously been grass, but was worn away over years of use, and the dust from the concrete path had begun to settle on the dirt surface. Geren never bothered replacing the grass; he found that he actually liked it better this way.
Geren strode over to the far side of the yard and called out behind him as he walked, “You two can take your places anywhere inside the circle that you want! You can get as close or as far away from me as you like for when the fight starts at Cohn’s signal!” He stopped walking and turned, facing the three of them. “Don’t be afraid to come at me with everything you’ve got! If I died to two kids doing a job interview, every foe I’ve bested over the years would roll in their graves!”
Gargarel advanced excitedly and planted himself squarely in the middle, axe at the ready. Troy hesitated and looked towards Cohn. Cohn shrugged and gave a wordless stare as if to say that Troy should either join the fight or leave because there was no in between at this point.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Troy grabbed a bow and a few arrows from one of the racks. He then found a spot far to the back-right edge of the circle. It would allow him to be as far away from Geren as the battlefield size allowed, while also letting him maintain line of sight on the man without Gargarel getting in his way.
Geren had not yet unsheathed his sword and was simply standing with hands on his hips.
What’s he planning? Troy thought to himself. Is he hoping that the uninterested act like he isn’t taking us seriously will catch us off guard so he can spring a surprise on us?
“Everybody in their position? I’ll give you all one last chance to change before starting!” Cohn yelled out. “No? Okay! Then you guys can get started when the arrow lands in the dirt!”
Rather than grabbing a bow from the rack, one instead appeared in Cohn’s left hand, conjured by some type of magic. An arrow followed suit in the other hand. He walked over to the side of the yard where all three fighters could see him. He then loosed the arrow straight up in the air and retreated back near the weapon racks.
Five seconds passed. Troy could feel his palms sweating. He could tell Gargarel was getting antsy—he was always liable to attack before the signal when it came to these things. He was holding steady so far, though, likely out of respect for who his opponent was.
Ten seconds passed. Looking across the arena, Troy could see that Geren still had his hands on his hips. And he was smiling.
How is he so confident?
It had now been fifteen seconds. Troy began wondering how high up Cohn shot the ar—
Thud.
Gargarel charged forward as soon as he heard the sound of the arrow landing in the dirt off to his left. Raising his axe overhead, he let out a guttural roar befitting a Gmaas warrior as he ran. He brought the axe down in an overhead swing directly on top of Geren, but the smiling mercenary leader sidestepped it with deft footwork.
As he finished the dodging maneuver, an arrow rapidly approached his new position. Troy had been trying to guess whether Geren would dodge to his left or right so that he could fire an arrow preemptively. He decided to instead fire an arrow towards each place in quick succession to cover both possible dodge directions to the left and right.
With lightning fast reflexes, Geren quickly raised his left hand to deflect the arrow, the metal covering on the back of his gloves serving their purpose. Gargarel wasted no time taking advantage of the brief distraction, dragging the axe along the ground where it had struck and bringing it up in an upward strike that sprayed dirt in the air as it rose.
Again, Geren easily dodged, this time to his right, hugging the edge of the arena and pressing forward so that the spray of dirt and Gargarel’s body were between him and Troy. As he did so, he reached out and gave Gargarel a solid knee strike to the groin. The Gmaas let out an audible groan of pain but stood his ground.
“That was a cheap shot!” Gargarel roared as he brought the axe back around in a full circular swing.
Geren ducked under the swing and tackled Gargarel around the waist, dragging him to the ground. He regained his footing quickly and launched off of the Gmaas’s chest as he jumped away, dodging another of Troy’s arrows.
“There are no cheap shots when you’re fighting for real!” Geren chided as he landed.
Troy pondered for a moment as Geren returned to his hands-on-hip stance and Gargarel got back on his feet. His movements so far… he really is testing our abilities. Groin shots, tackles—he could end this right away if it were a real fight and he drew his blade. But… he’s fighting us like this is a street brawl. He wants us to force him to get his weapon out and defend himself. There’s no reason for him to take this fight seriously until we make him do so. Let’s try this then…
“Geren, behind you!” Cohn’s voice suddenly filled the air.
A look of genuine shock jolting across Geren’s face, he turned to find nothing but empty space behind him. Quickly realizing he had been tricked, he instinctively stepped back as an arrow flew by in the space he had vacated.
That nearly got him.
Troy allowed himself a satisfied smile as he eyed Geren from a distance, notching another arrow. Geren returned the gaze before shifting his eyes to Cohn with a questioning look.
Cohn shrugged and shouted back, “That wasn’t me! I didn’t say anything! You know I wouldn’t get involved as a spectator!”
Feeling like he was beginning to understand Geren’s game with this test, Troy was gaining confidence that he could catch the man off guard if he played his cards right. The mercenary leader had probably figured out that Troy had been the one to shout—using Cohn’s voice. That trick wouldn’t work again. There were other tricks they could employ, however. If he and Gargarel just studied Geren’s movements for a bit and waited for the right opening…
Gargarel was unfortunately not as insightful as Troy, opting for brute force instead when it came to combat. Charging forward again, he let loose a flurry of axe swings that all unfortunately failed to hit their target. A horizontal swing was followed by an overhead attack that stopped before reaching the ground, Gargarel shifting his body’s momentum as he spun around and let loose a full body circular swing. This then led into another overhead slam that let out a large shower of dirt as the axe embedded itself in the ground. Pulling it from the dirt and resuming his battle stance, Gargarel stood panting as he eyed Geren, who had managed to dodge every blow effortlessly and was still smiling.
Troy surmised that something wasn’t quite right. He had seen his friend fight many times, and Geren was of course a fighter of wide renown. But the gap in their abilities shouldn’t be this vast, should it? Observing from a distance, it almost seemed as if Geren knew where and when he was going to dodge before Gargarel had begun swinging. Troy was very proud of his archery ability, yet none of his arrows had managed to hit their target. Just like with Gargarel’s axe swings, it seemed like Geren was beginning his motions to dodge or deflect the arrows in a manner that was much too quick to be based on pure reflexes.
“Garg!”, he shouted. “Let’s change strategy! I’ll fight him up close and you support!” It was the opposite of the strategy they typically employed but Troy had a gut feeling it was the correct play.
“Huh?! Why would we do that?!” Gargarel shouted back confusedly.
“Trust me!” was all Troy responded with as he ran forward and withdrew his rapier. Gargarel still looked confused but relented and backed away from Geren, putting some distance between them so that Geren now turned his attention to Troy.
Troy quickly whipped one of the daggers from his waist in a swift fluid motion that a spectator may not have even noticed. The dagger flew towards Geren rapidly, but still not fast enough as he knocked it out of the way with his fist as he had done with the arrow.
Letting another dagger fly free, Troy followed this one with a charge forward as he looked to take advantage in an opening that would hopefully appear as Geren either blocked or dodged the projectile. He sidestepped to his right to avoid it, and Troy thought he had the opening he needed as he stabbed his rapier forward.
The rapier attack was blocked by the same dagger he had just thrown. Geren had reached out to his left and snagged it mid-dodge, bringing it down in a swift motion to cut off the rapier’s path before it found purchase.
Troy retreated back quickly as Geren twirled the dagger and sheathed it at his waist.
I made him *block* an attack at least. That’s progress.
He gave a quick sideways glance and nod to Gargarel, who smiled in return as if he understood the signal.
Pulling a third dagger from his waist, Troy did not throw this one, instead opting to wield it in his left hand while the right still held the rapier. He ran forward and began initiating a complex series of feints to throw Geren off before striking with the rapier in a quick serpent-like fashion.
Geren pulled the dagger from his waist and blocked the blow, but the dagger in Troy’s left hand was coming for him now. Geren put his strength into his own dagger against the boy’s rapier, knocking him off balance and stopping the follow-up attack before it connected. Geren stepped back a bit, eyeing Gargarel to the side who was now holding his axe in a strange stance with the handle in his left hand and the head in his right.
Turning his attention back to Troy, Geren could see him beginning to advance again. He seemed to be attempting a similar feint-and-stab strategy that he had employed previously. It was a great display of the fencing ability he had mentioned training, but the same trick wouldn’t—a raw vibration hummed through the air and Troy accelerated unnaturally. He closed the distance to Geren impossibly quickly and was poised to strike.
The suddenness with which Troy encroached his defense caused Geren to react purely on instinct. He unsheathed his sword from his back and brought the pommel down on Troy’s head all in one swift motion, the rapier and dagger falling from the boy’s grasp and clanging to the ground as he crumpled in a heap of fine clothes and blonde hair.
Damn, that was probably a little too hard. He caught me off guard. Geren thought.
He looked towards Gargarel, whose mouth was hanging slightly open in shock at the sight of his friend suddenly lying on the ground unconscious. The axe was still being held in the same peculiar manner as earlier, and Geren realized what the sound just a bit prior was—Gargarel had produced the sound with the strange weapon. That was the reason for his unorthodox stance.
He did say he used magic that affected peoples’ bodies and minds. He must have cast something to make Troy move faster. Explains that sudden burst of speed.
Gargarel prepared to charge again, but Geren quickly leapt forward and executed a swift disarming maneuver. An elbow slam to the wrist and a smooth leg sweep caused Gargarel to drop the axe and fall to his stomach, where Geren then pinned his hands and held one of Troy’s daggers to his throat.
“Not to cut this fight short or anything, but it looks like I win! Sorry about your friend—I honestly didn’t mean to knock him out. He’ll be fine though, I wager.” He removed himself from Gargarel and extended a hand to help the Gmaas up. “Let’s get inside and get him laid down in one of our spare beds.”
Ignoring the hand, Gargarel helped himself up and retrieved his axe, returning it to its rightful place along his back. “I don’t believe in accepting help up from the same one who knocked me down”, he said. “I’ll carry him in, thanks.”
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Troy woke up in an unfamiliar room with a terrible headache. He had trouble remembering where he was or how he ended up here, racking his brain for an answer to this peculiar situation he found himself in. Then, he heard Gargarel’s booming voice from somewhere on the other side of the door and suddenly the memories of that afternoon began flooding in.
Getting out of bed, he found his rapier and daggers on a shelf nearby and returned them to his waist. The waning light from outside the window told him it was later in the evening now. He opened the door and could see he was on the second floor of what he assumed was the Last Stand Mercenaries’ headquarters. Looking over the railing, he confirmed that when he saw Gargarel, Geren, and two other people he didn’t recognize sitting around the long table below. One of the people was a boy about his age and the other was a Feroxi with midnight blue and black fur.
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“Hey, look who’s awake!” Geren called out to Troy as he appeared from the stairwell. “Sorry about that, kid! You did a good job getting the jump on me with that trick and I just reacted in the quickest way my body knew possible. Hope you’re feeling better.”
Troy took a seat next to Gargarel, looking troubled. “Trick, hmm? Tell me something, Unbreakable Wolf. What’s your trick?” He asked, staring Geren directly in the eyes.
So he noticed, huh? Geren thought as he blinked in surprise for a second before responding.
“My trick? Well, tell you what, kid. I’ll tell you if you agree to something for me. Join the Last Stand Mercenaries. You and Gargarel both. I’d love to have you two on the team.” He had an almost fatherly smile as he finished the last sentence—something that was uncomfortably foreign to Troy.
“Wait, really?!” Gargarel exclaimed. “You’re yanking my chain! I was sure you were gonna turn us down! You beat us so easily!”
“You sure, Geren?” Feros asked. “Maybe Lyght and I should fight them two-on-two just to be sure.” He said with a wry smile.
Geren laughed. “Yeah, they really impressed me during our fight. I wasn’t so sure at first, but they work well together in a team and each adapted on the fly to a changing battle strategy. I got a bit of a sneak peek at what magic they’re able to use also and I think they’ll mesh well with everyone else’s abilities. So, I’ll take that as a yes from Gargarel. What about you, Troy?”
He twiddled with a loose strand of his blonde hair for a second. “Of course I agree to join you. It was the purpose for us coming to Davied, after all.”
“Great!” Geren clapped his hands together as he shouted. “Then the four of you are going to go on your first contract together tomorrow. A messenger dropped a new one off for us earlier just before Lyght and Feros got back.” He turned to the two of them. “Sorry to send you two out again immediately, but it’s a perfect starter job for you to show the two new recruits the ropes. Any complaints?”
Feros shrugged. “Even if I did have a complaint, you would pretend you didn’t hear it and send me anyway.” He said in his rough Feroxi voice
“Fine with me, I just hope it’s a more exciting job than the one I just finished.” Lyght said while smiling at his friend’s sarcastic remark. “Tell me we’re going to actually leave town for this one though, yeah?”
“You’ll be leaving town, but not far,” Geren said. “One of the small family-run farms nearby has been getting hit with bandits visiting them weekly for almost a month now. They show up, demand payment in exchange for not burning the farm down, and leave. Poor folks don’t deserve to live under the thumb of brigands like that. Should be an easy enough job. Honestly, the two of you would be able to do it yourself typically, but I figure there’s no reason to not send Troy and Gargarel along to let them get a taste of what we do.”
“Yeah, let’s smash some bandit heads!” Gargarel yelled.
“Thank you. We’re honored to be part of your crew and we look forward to proving our worth.” Troy said with a slight bow. “If I may be so blunt, however, you did say that you would tell me what your “trick” in the earlier fight was. I’m very curious how you were able to so easily dodge all of Gargarel’s swings with such little effort.``
Geren smirked a bit. This kid is a sharp one. Gonna like having him around, I think.
“I did say that, didn’t I? The thing is, I didn’t say when I would tell you. So long as I tell you before either of us die, I’m technically keeping my word, right?” He could see a hint of frustration on Troy’s face for a brief moment before it disappeared, being replaced instead with a dry smile.
“I suppose so. That’s unfortunate on my part that I didn’t catch it in your initial wording. Clever. You figured out my trick in the battle though, didn’t you?”
Tapping the table in thought for a bit, Geren responded. “So that’s what you meant when you said your abilities were well-suited for espionage. You can modify your voice to sound like others’ voices, right? The part that impressed me was how quickly you did so. It only took Cohn saying a handful of sentences for you to have a large enough sample to emulate it so well.”
Troy looked down as if—strangely—disappointed with himself. “Yes, it is not the most useful ability in combat, but I find certain situations where I’m able to utilize it effectively. My capability in other aspects of magic is almost non-existent, but used in the proper role, I feel I can be a valuable contributor.”
Geren nodded. “Yeah, I believe you can be. And will be. I can tell you’re a quick learner so you’ll do just fine.”
He turned his attention to Gargarel. “And you—you’re a natural born fighter who can cast some powerful magic. We’ll work with you to find the balance between melee combat and spellcasting. My initial impressions are that your instinct is to win fights with your raw strength, but you’ve got an impressive magical ability that we’ll want to make use of. That spell you casted that made Troy move faster at the tail end of our fight was impressive enough to force me to seriously defend myself. I think Feros and Shaugh will both be good mentors for you.”
Showing another toothy grin, Gargarel nodded excitedly. “Yeah, sounds good! Whatever will let me get stronger! I always say might makes right. That’s one reason I wanted to come join you—you’re one of the mightiest. Feros looks pretty tough, too! I’ve never fought a Feroxi before!” he bellowed as he turned to look at Feros. The Feroxi gave a small snort of contentment to the compliment.
“Glad to have you both on the team,” Lyght began saying, “now can we get something to eat? Not sure about you guys, but Feros and I had a discussion about how hungry we were, like, an hour ago. And guess what? We’re still hungry.”
Laughing, Geren replied. “Good call. Let’s all head over to the Dice & Sword. You two can meet Shaugh—he runs the place and does some work for us on occasion as well so you’ll work with him from time to time. Jonas and Cohn will join us later. You’ve already met Cohn briefly, but I promise he isn’t always as cold and sarcastic as he seemed today. He’ll warm up to you guys now that you’re official members. And, we’ll get started on tomorrow’s plan of action.” The rest of them looked at him and nodded in understanding as he paused for a bit.
“Now let’s eat!” He stood with a shout and headed towards the door, motioning with his right hand for everyone to follow him. Of course, they eagerly did.