Gabriel and Vish were summoned to Pearl’s tent sometime after dawn. The sky still had hues of gooseberry flesh to it, and the few remaining stubborn leaves of the winter trees looked as though they had been dipped in gold. It was a beautiful, still, pleasantly chilly morning, that Gabriel suspected was going to get pretty shit pretty quickly.

Initially Gabriel had been impressed, if unamused, by Pearl’s uncharacteristically early start to the day, but it rapidly became evident that the ancient being of unspeakable aethereal power was still rat-faced drunk from the night before. She hadn’t so much opted to wake up and grab the bull by the horns, as she had decided to stay up and grab the balls and horn. Consequently, when Gabriel arrived, he was greeted by the butt-naked body of his sister, mercifully covered by her Pearlescent wings, and an exhausted and apologetic-looking Bernie.

Gabriel groaned.

“Did you call me to find you some clothes, because I most definitely will, in all haste.”

“Don’t be such a prude, cupbearer. Sex is about the only fun you mortals are allowed, and yet you treat it like it’ll give you the pox.”

“Yes, funny that, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure you’re being facetious about something, but I’m frankly too drunk to give a shit.”

Pearl was reclining on a futon that was covered in reams of silk stolen from the caravan. Most of the caravan’s silk seemed to have gone into ‘decorating’ the tent, actually. Coins, jewels and silverware littered the ground and bedding to boot. It looked like a host of belly dancers had engaged in a battle royale with a rival aerial dancing troupe.

“Oh, I promise you I am taking this just as seriously as it deserves,” Gabriel said.

“Shut up and pour me more wine.”

“You called me in to move a pitcher of wine from there,” Gabriel was not in danger of pulling a muscle as he pointed, “to there?”

“As is my prerogative as ruler of the damn continent and the only fricking dragon you’re likely to ever see. But, no. That’s not why I called you.”

Pearl stood up and poured her own wine. Gabriel averted his eyes, and Vish’s.

“I called you in here because your mercenaries are broken,” she whistled through her teeth, “Bernie, fetch!”

With something that might have been a sigh, might have been a sob, Bernie shuffled from the bed, said a few words of apology as he shouldered between Gabriel and Vish, and went out, completely starkers, into the crisp morning air.

Vish let out a quiet, “Dude,” as Bernie brushed up against his robes.

“When you say broken,” Gabriel said, “should I be calling a medic, or a necromancer? You may note, that I am neither.”

“Calm your pubes, they’re alive and well. Not much use to me dead, are they?”

“That’s some real character growth you’re showing there!”

Pearl glowered over her cup, “Funny guy. Anyway, if you want them to stay alive and well, I suggest you remind them that they are mercenaries.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Bernie ducked in just then, shivering from head to toe, and mildly blue in colour. He held open the entrance partition to allow four of the captives from the caravan to be ushered in by Order guards. The captives were made to kneel before Pearl.

“Well, let me demonstrate for you,” the dragon said.

Pearl drained the silver, jewel-encrusted goblet she had been supping from, and smacked her lips. Then she knelt before one of the mercenaries – the tall, mohawked woman – and offered the chalice.

“Here! You work for me now, see? I give you the shiny thing, see? Take the shiny, shiny. Now you work for me.”

The woman stared daggers at Pearl.

The dragon grunted, “There you have it, broken-ass-mercenaries. They won’t take the payment.”

“Yeeeah,” Gabriel said, “She’s unlikely to take anything from you. You may have noticed that woman has no arms. You wrenched them off during the battle, remember? Sort of a handy tool for taking and receiving things.”

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Oooh!” Vish piped up, “A friend for Lydia! She’s going to love this!”

“Vish, no!”

Pearl was staring stupidly at the amputee, a victim of her own handiwork, “Gods, this wine is good! Props to you, miss, I did not really expect you to still be alive!”

The woman spat at Pearl’s feet, but the dragon was already on her way to the next unfortunate soul.

“Alright, that one’s on me, but the rest of them are broken as well. Watch.”

Squatting on her haunches, Pearl offered the goblet to a grizzled mercenary who looked like he had been dragged through a bush and taken said bush with him.

“You, take this payment and become my loyal and adoring servant.”

“I would never serve you, you monster!”

“There you have it, broken.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, “A mercenary doesn’t just take money for work. They have to choose to do it. They have to want to do it. They need some other kind of incentive as well.”

Pearl thought about this, “Alright. You there, take this payment and join my army, or I’ll cut your nipples off.”

“Oh gods!”

“By the aether!”

“Merciful hells!”

These and other such exclamations filled the tent.

“What? What did I say?” Pearl asked.

“It’s just, the nipples!” Gabriel said.

“Those most sacred, innocent nubs,” Vish echoed.

“That is a bit strong, my liege,” Bernie said, covering his own little nubs.

“Well what the hell else am I supposed to threaten a grown man with?”

There was silence.

There was a bit more silence.

“Umm,” Gabriel said.

Vish leaned in to whisper in Gabriel’s ear, “Do. Not.”

Fortunately, Pearl had grown bored in the interim, and moved on to the next captive.

“Hey, this one is different.”

This ‘one’ was the merchant who had commissioned the caravan. He was a portly man, though he wore his weight well. The dome of his head was shaved immaculately, below which he bore a beard that covered everything from his nose to his chest.

“I am no mercenary, young one,” the merchant said proudly.

Pearl held a hand to her chest, “Young one? Well aren’t you a charming little fucker? You may yet keep your nipples.”

“That would please me greatly.”

“So, who are you?”

“Allgrech Lazhim, esteemed one. Representative of the Tailor’s Guild.”

Pearl noticed the great chain around his neck for the first time. It was punctuated by two dozen disc-shaped pendants that hung at equal intervals around its links. The biggest and central pendant was an embossed image of a ream of cloth being severed by a pair of shears.

“The Tailor’s Guild?”

“Indeed. We are one of the Great Guilds, that represent and oversee affairs in the great city of Badanis, City of Guilds.”

Pearl frowned, “Tailors run a city?”

“Not exclusively, ma’am. Badanis is a place of trade, a place of industry. Those artisans, craftsmen and workmen, who contribute most to the affluence of Badanis and its people, are given power to negotiate laws, regulations and alliances on the city’s behalf.”

“So why was one as supposedly important as you trapsing dirt with a caravan?”

Allgrech shrugged, “Trade is the lifeblood of Badanis, my lady. It is not beneath any of us to be engaged in trade negotiations.”

“Negotiations?”

“Indeed. The goods I was transporting, that you have so excellently procured for your pleasure, were meant as a demonstration of our city’s wealth to a potential new client. We were on our way to meet with the leader of the Iron Drum elves, to see if this rebel upstart will perhaps be more accommodating than his High Elf counterparts have been in the past.”

“You’re an oligarch from a city-state entirely devoted to commerce, who was on his way to bribe an elven revolutionary, who has cracked open the Iron Mountains for possibly the first time in my living memory?” Pearl clucked her tongue, “There’s a lot to unpack there, Lazhim. A lot. I think you may have just saved your nipples.”

“The three of us are most glad.”

“Right, everyone out. Lazhim and I have some scheming to do.”

The captives were led out of the tent, and Vish and Gabriel were ushered away.

“Wait, wait,” Gabriel suddenly said, “What about hiring mercenaries?”

“Shit plan, I already told you that. Doesn’t work,” Pearl said.

“Not like that, no. Mercenaries need to be recruited via the mercenary guild. A formal request needs to be submitted before it can be accepted.”

“What’s your point? I see no mercenary guild here.”

Gabriel shook Bernie’s hand from his shoulder, “But Badanis does have one. Vish and I could ride ahead with some of these jewels and submit the application on your behalf. We’re members of the guild, so we can arrange for the posting to be made in every guild in Kaden.”

Pearl tapped her foot, “You expect me to let you run off to Badanis with all this wealth? Why in the aether should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t, but Natasha can.”

“Who the f- oh, right, yeah.”

Pearl paced the breadth of the tent for a painstakingly long time. She tapped her chin, cracked her knuckles, hummed emphatically, and just generally made an obnoxious show of thinking.

Finally she said, “Alright. But remember, if you betray me, then… Well, I’m not going to care much, actually, because you’re fucking useless.”

“It’s so nice to see everyone agreeing,” Vish smiled.

“But you stay.”

“Awh, man.”

“Your kind is rare, and useful, unlike your friend. You’ll be my collateral.”

Gabriel had hoped for more, but wasn’t about to look a gift dragon in the mouth, “Very well. I shall not disappoint you.”

“Almost impossible at this stage, cupbearer. Now bugger off, I’ve got plans to hatch.”

Outside of the tent Gabriel walked briskly. He didn’t quite know where he was going, but giddiness carried him there quickly, regardless.

“Yo, Gabe. A question – what are you doing?”

“I’m going to Badanis to hire some mercenaries, Vish,” Gabriel grinned.

“You’re going to go and hire some mercenaries, normally well known for their monster slaying, to serve a deranged, crazed, blood-thirsty- Ooh. I get it, I get it! Not bad, Gabe, not bad at all.”

“I have my moments. Now help me load a cart before she sobers up and figures out what she’s done.”