Chapter 42: Expunge the Mercenaries
The Baron's army had been on the road for the last day following the river up to Rouen, trundling along at a steady pace.
Their horses and men had begun to tire, yet Harald kept them walking as they'd yet to reach a spot that was suitable for camp.
"Ragnar?" Finan questioned as he squirmed on the saddle in front of him.
"Is yer bum hurting from being on the saddle too long, lad?" Ragnar sniggered, softly tugging on the reigns of Ares, who in turn powerfully shifted to stride alongside the Baron's warhorse.
Finan gave him an embarrassed nod as Ragnar turned to his father. "Father, can we find a place to rest? I believe it's time we gave the people a break."
The Baron's cold demeanour reappeared whenever he was in front of his men, as Harald now held a stoic expression, demanding discipline and obedience.
"We will soon, Ragnar. But first, stay vigilant. We must always be on the lookout for bandits and mercenaries in the area." Harald held his gloved hand up to command silence.
"This road is the main trade route, from our port town up to the Duchy's capital. And anyone trying to make a quick buck knows this," as his eyes darted from left to right, attempting to notice any movement along the tree line beside the road.
Marquise softly chimed in, "Excuse me, milord, but wouldn't small crews of bandits not attempt an incursion against a force as big as ours? My father always said that once the number exceeded 50 men, most mercenaries or looters wouldn't care for the effort, waiting for easier targets."
The Baron grunted in reply, "Well, your father was a smart man. But, we're not looking out for these looters to avoid them."
An evil glint shone in his eyes as he smirked, "We're going to be ending their miserable lives and taking everything they earned. I always wondered why the previous Baron wouldn't allow us to clear out these bandits, always giving us the excuse of wasting lives. Now that I've gained access to the books, it looks like he'd been earning steady bribes from these lot of scum," as he spat venomously.
"I will not tolerate such behavior in and around my Barony. As such, we will expunge these looters effective and immediately." Harald's deadpan expression gave an eerie feeling as they all held their breath, waiting for something that stood out among the shrubbery.
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Ragnar turned to Finan with a look of pity, "Looks like it'll have to wait a little while longer, lad."
"There's nothing worse than a sore bum after a long ride," Ragnar chuckled as he tussled Finan's hair.
In that split second, Harald noticed the glint of steel among the bushes, "There!" the Baron barked as he wound up and threw his axe with force, unsettling his horse as the axe spun and disappeared into the forest.
The mercenary assigned to be a lookout for the day fell back on his butt as an axe smashed into the tree just inches away from his face. The shock in his system caused him to enter flight mode as he scampered onto his feet, deciding to get away from this hiding spot to report back to his camp.
As quickly as he decided to run, he collapsed as an intense pain shot up from his thigh, causing him to go delirious under the agony.
In a panic, the unwashed mercenary looked upon the source of his misery, noticing a large spear jutting out from his hamstring.
The adrenaline helped pull himself back up to his feet as another knife came whizzing by and lodged itself into his back, cutting off the feeling in his legs as he collapsed once again in a battle to remain conscious.
His brain hallucinated with the increased blood loss, soft voices echoing in his head as he realized someone was approaching him. "That was a good throw, Marquise! Looks like we got him." Ragnar said as he yanked his knife out of the man's back.
Ragnar inquisitively looked upon the pain-stricken man, whose leather pants congealed with blood. "Ah shit, Marquise. You've hit the femoral artery. This lad is a goner."
Both Marquise and Harald walked up to him with a curious look, "Femoral what?" The Frenchman raised his eyebrow in question.
Ragnar shook his head, sighing, "Nevermind that, this guy has 5 minutes to live at best if he isn't losing consciousness already. Let's figure out where the rest of his men are," as he stepped on the man's thigh, provoking a shriek of pain that awoken the man out of his stupor.
"Why are you here all alone? I want information if you desire a quick end." Ragnar said as he added more weight onto the man's thigh.
The unruly man was sweating profusely at this point and moaned in pain as he begged for Ragnar to stop his torture, "I'm the scout for the group. There are 30 men stationed about a 5-minute horse ride up the river. That's all I know, please!"
Ragnar looked up at his father, who nodded in turn as his burly fur coat swivelled in the air as they prepared to attack the camp.
"Wait! You said you'd end my misery." The scout begged as he dragged himself to Ragnar, begging with a vacant expression that had already accepted death.
The burly Norman nodded as he pulled out his bloodied dagger, knowing through officer school that killing someone with a knife was not as easy as the movies showed.
The only real way to end someone's life and give them a virtually instant death was to make them bleed out fast. And to do so, Ragnar had to give the scout a nudge in that direction.
Ragnar spun the man onto his back and plunged the knife into the spinal cord, ripping into the nervous system and cutting off all the functions in the man's body, leading to a silent death.
Ragnar grunted in disgust at all the blood that had gotten on his hands as he turned to his father with a determined expression on his face, "Let's go kill these bastards."
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This was a tough chapter to write, and hopefully everyone enjoyed the dynamics that the three are building together.
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