“And which rich corpse did you come off of, hmmm?” Aldric muttered, eyeing a leather pouch that was finely made with elegant stitching and an embossed sigil that Aldric wasn’t familiar with. He hefted the small sack in his hand and eyed the proprietor, a thin stick of a man, balding, with a wiry moustache.
“How much?” He asked, and the man started dry-washing his hands.
It was obvious that the seller was a gleaner, someone that made their living field-stripping corpses of everything usable after a battle; he probably fenced stolen goods for miles around, peddling his wares from the back of a small cart. Shiftless, landless, professing allegiance to anyone with a big enough stick, switching sides at the most opportunistic moments.
Aldric could understand that sort of mindset, though he didn’t have to like it. It wasn’t the mindset of a soldier or even a mercenary, it was the mindset of a born survivor. He’d known nobility with that mindset. You wagged your tail at anyone with more power than yourself, and you hid when the shit hit the fan.
He haggled the man down from the expected price to something lower even though he didn’t actually need to. He did it because it was expected, because it was an unwritten rule to do so. A handful of copper tokens changed hands, and Aldric swung up into his saddle and pointed his horse to the nearest city.
There wasn’t any percentage in hanging around a place like this; coin attracted attention, and if he was seen spending too much of it in any one place it might draw eyes to him. He knew a dozen ways of killing a man with his sword, but only an idiot invited trouble.
The city itself was fortified, but his soldier’s eye could see the existing fortifications built atop older fortifications, which in turn were built atop even older fortifications. The city had seen war enough to have been battered down and rebuilt, and it certainly had the odor to prove it.
“Yer business?” one of the guards growled at him in thickly accented Anglish.
“Trade.” Aldric replied, and the man gave him an ostentatious once-over.
“Don’t look like no trader.” he muttered, but waved Aldric through indifferently.
In a city like this, the wealthiest would be huddled in the heart of the city, with the gradation of poverty as one got closer to the walls. He wanted to find whatever passed for merchants in this area in order to place his orders. A proper merchant didn’t buy and sell finished goods, a proper merchant- at least by Anglish standards- dealt in large volumes of goods. If you wanted a chair you went to a shop; if you wanted wood, you went to a merchant. While Aldric preferred to do business with merchants, who were close to being nobility, he wasn’t adverse to doing business with shops when necessary.
He found what he was looking for fairly quickly; all tobacco merchants seemed alike to him, they all seemed to fall into two categories; the reputable kind, who invariably were somewhat stout, with thinning hair, brawny arms, and leather aprons and the disreputable kind, who always seemed on the verge of emaciation. He didn’t understand it, it just happened to be some sort of constant that stayed the same from city to city, continent to continent.
After Aldric conducted his business and arranged for transport of goods to the dock; he headed out of the city and down the perilous road towards what had once been a thriving dock, now abandoned and mostly destroyed.
Surprisingly, he ran across Lynnabel and two other wolf sisters. Based on their armor, one was a Gold and the other was a silver, like Lynnabel and Alysia.
“Ah, Lord Captain.” Lynnabel greeted warmly. The other two wolf sisters regarded him with cool expressionless faces.
“Lynnabel. You’ve no idea how good it is to see a friendly face in these lands.” He returned her greeting with obvious relief. He looked towards the other Silver, who was also on horseback, and then down at the Gold, who trotted seemingly effortlessly by the side of Lynnabel and the other Silver.
Lynnabel picked up on his unspoken cue and offered introductions.
“This Silver sister is Arcene, and the Gold is Orelia.” She offered. “They’ve agreed to sign on for the duration of the campaign.”
“I’m sure Daveth will be vocal in his disappointment that more could not be found.” Aldric offered with a wry twist to his mouth. “Still, we’ll happily accommodate you.”
Arcene had her silvery-white hair in a short tail, and she wore the distinctive unadorned steel plate with a wolf’s head picked out in blue on the breastplate. Orelia had her hair done in long twin braids that hung nearly to her hips. Her armor was black with gold accents and the wolf’s head picked out in gold leaf on the breastplate. There was a certain irritable cast to her seemingly expressionless face.
“I’d hoped that perhaps Aurene would rejoin us.” Aldric added, and the three of them exchanged glances amongst themselves.
“That will not be possible, Lord Captain.” Lynnabel replied smoothly. Aldric gave her a long moment to offer more of an explanation, but when one wasn’t forthcoming, he shrugged.
“A pity. She was ferocious on the battlefield.” he offered, and for some reason Orelia's face grew even more irritated.
*****
Upon returning to the Shaper’s ship they’d learned that Daveth had suffered some sort of fit and was being seen to by a mage with the ability to use healing spells. Aldric didn’t take it well; He hadn’t thought of what might happen if Daveth died. He could come up with all sorts of excuses, but really it came down to the fact that Aldric had a simple, unspoken faith in Daveth’s invulnerability. The man was a giant, could toss around grown men like pups, and always seemed to be right where he was needed. It was unbelievable to think that the giant could be defeated by something like a fit or an illness.
After the cargo Aldric had ordered had been inspected and loaded on to the Shaper’s mammoth ship, Aldric turned his mind to the inevitable upcoming battle in the Shaper’s homeland. What would it be like?
The Shapers didn’t have anything like a map of their homeland aboard their ships- or anywhere else, for that matter. What was the point of a map, when all Shapers lived there? There were cartographer’s maps that showed where their land was, but Aldric had only been given glimpses of them; it seemed as if the Shaper’s land was south of the islands of the Yamato and Toledo. Aldric couldn’t remember if the Anglish had ever expanded out that far.
*****
Aldric greeted Daveth by marching into the sickroom and tossing the tobacco pouch he’d bought in Philippa onto Daveth’s massive body.
“Hey asshole, here’s your fuckin’ present.” Aldric cursed by way of introduction. “Mind telling me what the fuck happened while I was away?”
Daveth eyed the pouch curiously and opened it. He prodded the contents of the pouch with a fingertip.
“Tobacco.” He muttered, and Aldric nodded.
“Really it’s the pouch that’s the gift. The grifter had no idea of its real value. If he had, I’d’ve had to kill him to get it.”
Daveth lifted the pouch, eyed it from several angles, shrugged and looked to Aldric.
“Country bumpkin.” Aldric muttered and Daveth’s eyes narrowed. It suddenly occurred to Aldric that Daveth was looking at him strangely, in a way that he couldn’t put his finger on.
“It’s a grow-bag. Or at least part of one.” He waved his hand. “Ancient magic. Very rare. Extremely rare.” He emphasized the exclusivity of pouch before anything else; Daveth was a good tactician but he had problems assigning value to things.
“It duplicates whatever’s placed in the bag, but it’s slow and depends on the amount of ambient magic in the area. Not particularly useful for money or valuables, but perfect for something consumable.... Like tobacco.” Daveth stated, and gave Aldric that strange look again.
Aldric gave him a strange look in return. It was highly fucking unlikely that Daveth had encountered one before, so who was it that told him of them? And what was with that look?
It was a complex look, weighted with the kind of experience one got with being a mercenary for years, the innate sense of always checking your exits, knowing where your weapons were, knowing who your friends and foes were, that complex and complicated assessment that constantly ran through the minds of those that had been lifetime campaigners.
It was if a man- or a creature, Aldric reminded himself- sixty years older than Daveth was looking out at him through Daveth’s eyes.
Suddenly it seemed very fucking important to remember where his weapons were. He wore his saber of course, there was a long knife in his right boot, and a second tucked up under his shirt, and there was the weight of the two-shot derringer tucked in his right bracer. He was reasonably certain he’d need to use everything he had at hand to kill Daveth, and even then it wasn’t a sure thing.
“Where are we?” Daveth eyed Aldric suspiciously. “I don’t remember a place like this.”
A strange question unless Daveth had lost his memory- or something else was supplanting it.
“We’re on the Shaper’s boat.” Aldric replied carefully, and Daveth eyed the room again with calculated precision.
“You’re right, now that you mention it. The ceilings should have been a dead giveaway.” He muttered to himself. “So it’s the Shapers, then? Well, I’ve survived worse.” he muttered again, and then added something in another language. Aldric’s eyebrows rose; just when had Daveth picked up Yamato? A thin thread of adrenaline trickled into Aldric’s heart and a bead of icy sweat slid down his spine.
“How far out to their homeland?” Daveth asked.
“We’ve just left Philippa.” Aldric replied, and Daveth arched an eyebrow. “All right. A three month trip.” He tossed aside the bedsheet and rose to his feet. “We’ve got shit to do and three months to do it.”
“The fuck are you talking about, Daveth?”
Daveth gave him a condescending look. Him! Daveth! The country bumpkin of country bumpkins, condescending to him, to Aldric!
“If memory serves, we’ve got a hundred raw recruits we pulled from...” He touched his forehead, “right, that place with the giant snakes and cannibal elves and the beastmen...” He muttered with a frown.
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Cannibal elves?
“Metzcal. We’ve got the recruits from recruits from Metxcal that haven’t seen a day’s work in hard combat. We’ve got the Yamato pirates.... That crazy group of whatchamacallit.... Templars, and... Corwin.”
He nodded to himself. “A bad mix. You need to get on Tsubame’s good side. Induce her to keep an eye on the mages, since they’re a flighty bunch. When the shit hits the fan,” he tipped a knowing eye to Aldric, “and it will, it’ll keep the mages from-”. He paused and eyed Aldric again. Calm, cool, calculating.
“...who are you?” Aldric asked, hand settling on the hilt of his sword.
Daveth barked a cynical laugh, far removed from his usual chuckle.
“I’m still Daveth.” He replied, but his eyes lied. Those eyes were older, more calculating. “Things are just a lot more ... clear.” Daveth decided. “It’s like seeing the bits to a tavern puzzle and having no idea how the pieces fit together, and then suddenly having one of those ridiculous insights where you understand how all the little pieces fit together.”
“Forgive me when I say I don’t believe you.” Aldric replied tensely, switching his grip so that he could draw his sword correctly.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Daveth groaned, and palmed his face. He snapped his fingers. “Ah. You’re superstitious. I get it. You think I’m not Daveth.” he paused, and faced his captain. “I am, though. A bit older, and I hope a bit wiser, but still Daveth. I’m not sure how I got here, or how long I’ll be here, but... I am here. No reason to do anything but the best I can for the Seal.” He eyed Aldric again. “Still though. Even after all this time, I never could figure out why you called it the ‘Seventh Seal’. Stupid fucking question, but even after sixty years I never figured it out. What do you say? Do your second-in-command a favor and solve a mystery?”
Aldric took an unsteady step backwards. “You-” He began, but Audra stepped into the room.
“Commander. Captain.” She greeted perfunctorily. “The Wolf sisters- the new ones, I mean, have settled in, and they want to discuss the contract.”
“Shouldn’t keep them waiting.” Daveth replied, and then looked down at himself. “Could use some clothes, first.” He eyed Audra. “You didn’t hide them, did you?”
A little smile flickered across her elven features. “Why would you think I’d do that?” She asked a little too innocently.
“Because it’s something that a prankish scout might feel like doing to her Commander.” He replied. “Now do I have to dangle you by your toes, or are you gonna tell me where my clothes are?”
Audra’s playful smile deepened for a moment and Daveth grinned back.
Audra let out a breath and raised her hands palms-up to admit defeat. “I don’t think I’d like getting dangled by my toes.” She muttered. “I’ll go get them.”
As soon as she left, Daveth sat back down and rubbed his head wearily. “You have no idea how strange it is for me to see-” He muttered, and then cut himself off.
“Why don’t you explain it to me, then?” Aldric asked, keeping his voice level.
“It’s like there’s two of me crammed in here.” He thumped his head with the heel of his hand. He held out his hands in front of him, and moved them like balance scales. “On the one hand, there’s a me who thinks he knows what happened. Happens.” he bobbed his hands again. “On the other hand, there’s a me that’s no fucking clue what’s going on.” He paused. “But there’s differences in what I remember. Why didn’t we go to the Argent Plains? Why didn’t we-” He cut himself off. “Too many things that don’t make sense. Since they don’t make sense, I have to manage what I can make sense of.” He looked over at Aldric. “You taught me that.”
Aldric propped himself up on one of the desks and grimaced, since it was sized for a Shaper.
“So let’s start small, then. Who are you?”
Daveth barked a dry, bitter laugh. “A stupid, fool of a man.” He spat bitterly. “If this is a dream, it’s a pleasant one, though.” He offered with a roll of his eyes. “A taste of the old days, the good days. When I wake up I’ll be sure to-” He cut himself off. “You can’t make a promise in a dream. That’s risky.” He eyed Aldric. “There are things that listen to your dreams, you know. Gotta be careful about that.”
Aldric rolled his eyes. Daveth was calling him superstitious?
“Didn’t answer my question. Who are you?” Aldric asked. “And no fuckery, either. I’ve a mind to put a bullet through that asshole skull of yours.”
Daveth chuckled. “You do that and you’ll never make it back from Therannia.” He muttered to himself. He straightened his back and adopted a strangely regal posture. “King Daveth of Alnagiern, at your service.” He paused. “I can’t remember how old I am.” He shrugged and glanced over at Aldric. “You kinda stop caring about such things after a while.”
Aldric had never heard of Therannia or Alnagiern.
Aldric thumbed some tobacco into his pipe and lit it.
“So what the fuck are you doing here?” He asked.
“Like I fucking know.” Daveth complained bitterly. “I was ... “ He trailed off for a moment. “I can only remember pieces, I think. Kind of strange that I can remember all of this with almost perfect clarity but-” He waved his hand in front of his face. “There was an elf, I think. One of the particularly cunty types. You know what I mean, ‘Elves are superior, stupid humans need to learn their place’ sort of attitude.”
“I’m familiar with the type.” Aldric admitted.
“I was... I was sitting there, and I’d passed judgement.” His face grew bitter with pain. “I didn’t want to. They’re my wife’s people. I wanted to- I didn’t-” He broke off.
“You married a cunty elf?” Aldric queried. Daveth barked a laugh. “My wife? Nah. She’s a fireball, that one. A real free spirit.”
“So what’re your plans?” Aldric asked.
“Plans? The fuck’s that?” Daveth asked, and looked over at Aldric. “As far as I’m concerned I’m having the best fucking dream of my life. We’ve got to meet with the Wolf sisters, get the recruits whipped into shape- they’ll die otherwise- and get ready for landfall. Fortunately for us the ship is huge. We need to take advantage and run as many drills as we can, every day.”
“Why?” Aldric asked.
Daveth closed his eyes and slowly hung his head. “The Shapers aren’t very good at combat.” He muttered in a low voice. “They can make fantastic war machines the likes of which you’ve never seen, but to them it’s...” he waved his hand in a circle. “It’s just something to do. Like the people that make cannons or forge swords. They know how they’re made and what they’re used for, but fighting?” He shook his head. “Best leave that to the ones that know it best. Us. I always thought it was one of the greatest tragedies, you know? The Shapers have always been willing to offer their help when compensated, but the one time they needed help, the world looked away.”
He looked over at Aldric. “Can you imagine how that feels?”
Aldric nodded. “I know exactly how it feels.” He spat harshly. He puffed on his pipe. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
Daveth nodded. “Sensible.”
*****
Arcene and Orelia both looked up as Aldric and Daveth entered.
“I introduced my self earlier, but for the sake of formality I’ll do it again: I’m Captain Aldric of the Seventh Seal. This is my second-in-command, Commander Daveth.” Aldric began.
Deveth eyed the pair of them, and a smile quirked the edges of his lips. “Arcene, was it?” He asked, and eyed the other. “Orelia.”
“You know them?” Aldric asked curiously. Daveth nodded. “Arcene is the leader of the Silvers. Orelia... well, let’s just say she’s got a rivalry with Aurene.”
Orelia’s face darkened at that. “Do not think me so lowly.” She spoke harshly, despite her rounded baby-face features.
“I presume you know my rank from Alysia, or perhaps Lynnabel?” Arcene asked coolly.
Daveth tapped his neck and then his shoulder. “The marks on your gorget and pauldrons.” He explained simply.
Aldric coughed to get their attention.
“Lynnabel explained to me that you’re only going to be signing on with us for the duration of this mission?” He asked, and the two women nodded.
“I’m assuming you need the same concessions that we agreed to with Alycia and Lynnabel?” Aldric asked, and they nodded again.
“We’ll get you familiar with the Seventh Seal and how we operate while we’re en route to the Shaper’s homeland. We’ve got a healthy crop of raw recruits we could use some help pounding into shape before we make landfall.”
Arcene and Orelia eyed each other. “How... long will this trip by ...boat take?” Arcene asked, her face twisted in distaste and reluctance.
Daveth smiled. “I’m well-acquainted with your dislike for ships. It’ll be a three-month trip. But don’t worry; we’ll keep you plenty busy so you won’t even have time to notice.”
Orelia pushed herself to a standing position. “I’ve heard about you from Aurene! I am five times as strong as that one! You will not find me such easy prey as that one!”
Daveth plopped his cheek on his hand. “And ten times as arrogant. Don’t worry, we’ll beat that out of you soon enough.” he offered with a smile.
“I challenge you!” Orelia demanded, and Arcene immediately and pointedly looked away ostentatiously; a sign she wanted no part at all in the conversation.
Daveth waved his hand dismissively. “Sure, sure. Come at me whenever.” he replied in a bored voice.
“Before you start tearing the place apart, we should get your contracts signed.” Aldric forced his way into the conversation.
*****
It was night time, and the moon rode low on the horizon As Aldric watched Daveth snatch a blade out of a man’s grip, revolve it, and then run the man through. From the patterns on his cloak and the cloth wrappings on his arms and legs, the man was one of the Ebon Hand.
Aldric watched Daveth twist the sword in the man’s guts quickly, deftly, and jerked the blade out.
As Daveth held the man’s body out over the water, the man went through a strange transformation, from young, to full adulthood, from adulthood into old age. Daveth tossed the body over the side and into the water.
“That takes care of that.” Aldric heard Daveth reply, and watched him tuck the sword into that magic pouch of his he always kept at his waist.
“I told you I’d be keeping an eye on you.” Aldric warned, drawing his blade.
Daveth turned to face Aldric. “The man was a plant. He belonged to the Carrion Crows. He joined the Ebon Hand to get a crack at me.”
“Your proof?” Aldric offered. Daveth held out a patch of cloth with the distinctive markings of the Carrion Crows.
“And you knew this because...” Aldric drew out his words while he considered running Daveth through.
“He tried before. That time, though, I lost part of my ear.” Daveth replied simply, reaching up to touch his ear.
“You haven’t slept in three days.” Aldric noted.
“Well, this is a dream, right? If you go to sleep in a dream, you wake up in real life, right?” Daveth explained as if it were obvious.
Aldric weighed everything; his intuition, his instincts, his worries, his concerns, against everything else.
“I think it’s time you got some sleep. Maybe then I’ll get my second-in-command back.” Aldric urged.
Daveth blinked at that. “I am your second-in-command.”
“Maybe you were. Maybe you are. But maybe you aren’t. Maybe you’re a liability. Maybe you’re some... parasite Daveth picked up. I can’t take that risk. I got men and women under my command. So I tell you what; why don’t you go the fuck to sleep and maybe we’ll revisit this conversation in the morning.”
Daveth opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if he were trying to find the right things to say.
Instead, he nodded. “Fair. It’s as I remember you. It’s been a long time since I served under you, but I remember that much. Reckless and daring. Capable and cautious. Always keeping an eye on us.” He nodded.
“I agree. I think it’s about time I wake from this dream.” He shouldered past Aldric and disappeared belowdecks.
Aldric spent a long time contemplating Daveth’s words as the sun came up.