By evening they had seen enough and were ready to buy things. Gwen was up by then and their first stop was to get a decent meal, to celebrate their payment. They got a whole roast foul, of some sort, and a bottle of better than terrible wine, fresh bread, and a selection of side dishes. Gwen, however, was mostly indifferent to the food, and didn’t touch the wine at all.

“Your loss”, said Zipper, and happily ate whatever she left.

There was a fair amount of weaponry on display, at moderately inflated prices. But if you skipped the ornamentation and just went for functionality, it wasn’t too unreasonable. Delta bought a bundle of arrows for Gwen from the company funds, heavy leggings, and thick leather arm braces. To this they added some good, soft boots to replace her iron shod ones. She wasn’t likely to be needing them much. They also got a quantity of good tanned leather, and a kit to work on stitching a better harness for her wolf. They also got her a proper bedroll, mess kit, and a bunch of miscellaneous stuff.

They practiced their words for “thank you” and “you’re welcome” a lot. She taught them the Goblin version, which was several exchanges longer than theirs.

Zipper and Delta needed less stuff but did buy some things to round out their supplies. They made a few personal purchases as well. Delta swapped the change she got for the company’s gold piece for Gwen’s, so she would have smaller coins to spend on what she wanted. A number of things seemed to catch her eye, but she didn’t buy anything.

Quite the opposite, Zipper chortled with glee, and begged to be allowed to buy any flashy bit of polish for her harness. In a moment of reflection, she gave half her wages back to Delta and told her to hang on to them for her, and under no circumstances let her spend them.

Eventually, though, they had gone through the merchants who were open that late who had anything interesting. When they got back most of the mercenaries were congregating outside of the tent, drinking, gambling, and telling stories. They recognized Zipper, and welcomed the rest, wanting to know how much of the stories she had told were true. Gwen was a curiosity, but since Zipper’s stories painted her as holding her own, and she had her papers, they accepted her as she was.

After some more bragging from Zipper, one of them even suggested an archery contest, to determine if Gwen really could shoot better at night than in the day. Their best archer was good, but was handicapped by the darkness, and having drunk a bit. Gwen had improved a lot and was good enough at night to make it an even enough contest to foster heavy betting. She lost in the end, but the other guy spent the better part of an hour coaching her on what she did wrong, and how she could improve. He was surprised, amused, and flattered when she said, “Thank you”, in heavily accented, but understandable, speech.

The rest eventually wandered off, mostly to get more drink, until the three of them were left on the range.

“You did good, Gwen”, said Delta. “Good”, she repeated simply.

Gwen ducked her head. “Bow”, she replied. “Gwen bow”.

“Wight’s Company!” cheered Zipper, who had not been shy about accepting drinks from others. Even Gwen joined in. It was one of her better phrases.

“You seem wide awake, Zipper”, said Delta. “I don’t think anyone will mess with Gwen now, but keeping up the language lessons is a good thing.”

“Ta maistir”, said Zipper. Gwen cringed. “That’s ‘yes’, more or less.”

Delta tried it a few times, with corrections from Gwen. “Wake me around midnight. I’ll do a few hours then.” She then tried to explain to Gwen about the review in the morning.

“Go on”, said Zipper. “I’ll keep trying till she gets it.”

They woke well in advance of the review time and had a leisurely breakfast of leftovers while watching the other mercenaries struggle to get up. “I thought I was bad!” said Zipper. Gwen mimed drinking. Zipper nodded. “That’s probably the root of it. I like a cup myself, but there was enough going around last night to make me happy.”

As they were sorting out their kit, oiling their leather and polishing the brass, a young kid came up to them with a large bundle. Delta grinned and took it from her. “Thank you!” she said and gave her a few copper pennies. She stood there for a bit, gawping at the mercenaries, and looking reluctantly towards the door. “I tell you what”, said Delta. “Can you wait a few minutes until we try them out? Just to be sure all is good.” The girl nodded enthusiastically. “There’s another penny for you if you can help with the straps.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

They began putting their armor on with their newfound page eagerly helping. When Zipper and Delta had finished, they helped with Gwen. Delta fingered the light chain shirt she had. “I wish I could figure a way to show this off. It’s a fine piece. Better than anything we’ve got. But it also might attract the wrong sort of attention.” So, they settled for covering it with her normal all-encompassing gear. The young girl was genuinely surprised to learn that Gwen could not use her legs.

When they were all ready, Delta unfolded the tabards. They pulled them down over the bulky armor, which just made the heraldic display more prominent. Gwen looked with surprise at the display, trying to fathom it, moving between awkward and proud. But she did note that hers was cut differently and didn’t inhibit her on her wolf.

She was also the first to note that the other mercenaries had taken notice. She elbowed Zipper and nodded towards them. They watched, bleary eyed at the striking transformation.

“Assembly in twenty minutes”, said Zipper loudly. “See you all there!” She grinned as many of them swore and started rapidly trying to find their kit.

Delta stored their remaining stuff in the lockbox they had rented from someone else, passed Zipper’s spear to her, and straightened Gwen’s bow. “Let’s go meet the Countess.”

They marched from the tent in good order, the young girl skipping along behind them in high spirits.

They didn’t attract the same attention through town as in the barracks, but they were still noted. People stood aside and stared after them, but then went back about their business.

When they got to the main street the Countess’s residence was on, it was clear they were the first to arrive. The clerk they had dealt with before was there, and gave them a wry grin, looking them up and down. “Wight’s Company”, he said, without having to look it up. “You’ll be assembling on marker twelve down there”, he pointed down the road. “It’s in order of precedence and, since you don’t have a full-strength squad, and they don’t make allowances for appearances (or timeliness) you will be last.” He made a show of looking down the road. “But it may be some time. Since you have shown you understand how to be on time, I think it will be OK if you wait in the shade over there until the rest of your compatriots have shuffled into position.”

Delta smiled and gave him a slight bow. “You are most kind. Thank you.”

“All spruced up and nowhere to go!” complained Zipper. “All that work and we’re last.”

Delta shrugged. “We got the clerks on our side”, she said. “And being last isn’t so bad. Less time between seeing us and making her decision.”

“Decision?” said Zipper. “What’s she deciding?”

“I don’t know”, said Delta. “But I can’t see the reason for calling us all out unless there were duties to dish out.”

They rested with their backs to the large tree that marked the corner of the estate. More mercenaries did, indeed, shuffle out. A few had dressed extravagantly, although half of those appeared to be so attired as they had fallen asleep from their revelry the night before while wearing it.

There was an abbreviated toot on a horn to draw their attention. A curtained palanquin emerged from the residence along with several knights in bright display. The mercenaries straightened their line, and Wight’s Brigade joined them.

The palanquin moved slowly down the line, stopping occasionally for a conference with one or other of the knights. The other companies struck poses, and a few made elaborate bows and curtseys as the Countess passed.

“Do we have to, you know, genuflect like that?” asked Zipper, worried. “I haven’t practiced that maneuver.”

“Let’s just go for standing at attention”, said Delta. “It’s harder to give the wrong impression, since we don’t know what she’s looking for.”

Eventually the procession drew even with them. There were some taps on the wooden frame of the litter, and it stopped, the bearers putting it down. A knight in blue and white leaned over and had a whispered conversation with the occupant. He bowed, straightened, and approached Delta.

“Ah, Wight’s Brigade?” he asked, consulting a card.

“Yes, sir”, said Delta, remaining at attention.

“Yes, then”, he said, somewhere between confused and embarrassed. “The Countess would like to know if your coat of arms is registered.”

“Yes, sir”, said Delta. “I only recently inherited command and don’t have the paperwork. To the best of my knowledge it is, though.”

“Ah, thank you.” He hesitated a moment longer. “And, she would also like to know the, er, gender of your, um, cavalry unit.” His face was expressionless.

Delta turned smartly to Gwen. “Private Gwen, papers please”, she held out her hand.

Gwen opened her pouch and drew out the carefully folded sheets, without hesitation. “Papers. Yes, sir”, she said. Her best words yet.

“That’s not, um, strictly speaking, necessary”, he said, but took the papers, none the less, pausing slightly at the clawed hands. His eyebrows rose when he read them, and he peered closely into the hood shadowing Gwen’s face. “Thank you”, he said, and handed them back.

He nodded to them and returned to have a conversation with the Countess. After a short time, the palanquin turned back towards the entrance and the knights separated from it. Except for the knight in blue and white who returned to Wight’s Company. “If you would accompany me, please”, he said.

He led them into the building opposite the residence, as the horn tooted again, and they could hear the knights addressing the mercenaries. They passed through the building into an airy atrium on the inside.

“Congratulations”, he said, “you have been selected for a special mission. How soon can you be ready to go?”

“We’re already packed”, said Delta. “It would just take a few minutes to pick up our stuff.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Most efficient.” Then, “Maybe the Countesses selection methods have something to them”, he muttered to himself.

“If you don’t mind me asking”, said Delta. “Why did the Countess select us?”

He smiled thinly, “She liked your heraldry.” Then, to himself again, “She likes heraldry a lot.” He straightened. “I am Sir Rault, and you are to be my escort to a parlay with the Imperialists at Lyre. Please meet me at the stables at the west gate of the town, I shall be there presently.” He paused. “And, oh, please be discrete about your mission.”

“Yes, sir”, said Delta.