Early the next morning a page came for them. They were up and ready. The alcohol had worn off and the groans from the wounded made sleep uncomfortable. Their kit was bundled and stacked. All they had to do was pick it up and follow.

They were led back to the tent where they had been processed after the battle. The same clerk was there, with the same lantern, almost as if he had never moved.

“Ah”, he said. He indicated two camp chairs to them before his canvas desk. He shuffled some wax boards, quickly reading his notes. “On behalf of the reformed army of the Empire of Romitu, I’d like to offer you…”

“No”, said Zipper.

The man stopped, raised his eyebrow, and looked to Delta.

“Thank you for what I am sure is a generous offer of service”, said Delta. “But, after due reflection, I am afraid my companion and I must decline.”

He smiled thinly and moved a few tablets off to one side. “As duly registered members of a mercenary company, the Empire would like to offer you a contract for your services.” He nodded to Delta, “as the sole survivor of your company you can legally contract on the entity’s behalf.” Turning to Zipper, “Your case is a little more difficult…”

Zipper waved her hands in front of her. “Can’t have that. I certainly don’t want to make things difficult for you. I hereby resign my position in…” She rolled her eyes. “…The Puissant Company of Superlative Adventurers – Reformed. And apply for an opening in Wight’s Brigade. If you’ll have me”, she added at the end.

Delta nodded solemnly. “Certainly. If you have the paperwork, sir?”

The clerk nodded. “I can handle that. And, thank you. That certainly makes things easier. If…”, he paused to see if he was going to be interrupted. When it appeared he wasn’t, he continued.

“Although two is an undersized company, it actually turns out to be exactly what we had in mind for a specific duty.” He picked up one waxed board and read it from the top to the bottom. “The Empire regrets that it must take up arms against its own citizens. Although they are our enemy in the field, they are still our own and are due all the dignity and respect that deserves. As such we feel it a sacred commitment to return those unfortunate enough to die in this unnecessary conflict in good order to their nearest relatives. Sadly, those who have taken up arms against us do not always welcome such overtures. We find that it often goes better if neutral third parties actually conduct the dead.”

They thought it over for a bit. “So…”, said Zipper. “You want us to drive the meat wagon over to the Montihouse side?”

“Colorfully put, but essentially accurate”, said the clerk.

“There are plenty of civilian drivers”, said Delta. “Why hire mercenaries to do it?”

He nodded. “Well, when we say, ‘in good order’, we mean unmolested and with their personal equipment intact. We have strict rules about looting battlefields and bodies. Which means we need someone we can trust.” He rattled the wax boards. “Or, at least, file a negative report about. And someone who can keep away looters.”

“Ah”, said Delta. “Sounds good to me”, she looked over at Zipper for confirmation. She just saluted. “What’s the pay?”

He smiled thinly. “Same as all soldiers. One shilling a day.” He opened a parchment journal, noted down Zipper’s change of registry, and had them both make their sign. He then copied out the contract form, filled in the details, and again had them sign.

“Pay is half in advance, and half by promissory note”, he handed them some brass coins. “Upon completion you can hand those in to any Imperial paymaster and, assuming there have been no negative reports, you can draw the rest of your pay. You can grab breakfast in the mess tent, and the wagons and horses should be ready by the time you are done.”

“The grub is almost worth the price of the contract!” said Zipper.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Her tune had changed later as they approached the carts.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten so much”, said Zipper. There were two wagons, with stacked bodies in them under tarps.

“You did eat rather a lot”, said Delta, dispassionately.

“Always have”, said Zipper. “My parents despaired of it. Especially since I never grew from it. They said it just went into my hair.” She swung her long braid from side to side for emphasis.

“Let’s try to do this from upwind”, said Delta. There were few actual fires in the camp, though. Most of the cooking appeared to be over magical hotplates. But despite their trepidation, there was no rank smell.

A soldier who had been standing guard over them noticed their approach and came over. “Are you the ones taking this lot out?”

“We are”, said Delta.

He nodded. “Fine. I’ll walk you to the gate and they’re yours from then on.”

They stowed their gear and climbed up on the cart. “Are there really bodies in here?” asked Zipper, peeking under a tarp.

The guard laughed. “Yes. A mage came through and put a preserve spell on them. It’ll be about a month before they start to… Well, before they should be buried.”

“What do the priests of Grave Keeper think of that?” asked Delta.

The guard shrugged. “Dunno. It’s respectful and allows for proper funeral rites. I can’t see they would mind.”

“Especially given the fees they charge for rites”, said Zipper. “Looks like I can enjoy my breakfast after all. What are the mules called?”

The guard stopped at the gate. “I just call them ‘one’ and ‘two’. It’s not like they listen.” He waved them off. “Gods speed to you!”

The drive was pleasant enough. The Avenio countryside was picturesque, and in the no man’s land between armies, pretty empty. Rations for them and the mules had been packed, so there was little to care for.

Zipper whistled as they went, occasionally bursting into song at particularly raucous bits. She had taken charge of the mules and spent most of the day trying out different names on them.

Delta was a little more restless. She moved about the wagon, perching on top to keep lookout for a lot of the time. But also hopping off and walking ahead whenever there was an intersection or bridge.

“Come on”, Zipper called to her, while she paced next to the wagon. “This is easy duty. Rest your butt for a while. I’m sure we’ll hit duty soon where it will be nothing except getting our butts kicked.”

Delta socketed her glaive in a ring on the side of the wagon, and then pulled herself up. “You’re probably right.” She waved around the countryside after she settled. “This just creeps me out. It’s too quiet.”

Zipper nodded. “No cowbells tinkling. No goatherds bitching.” She pointed to the side. “Weeds are coming up in the spelt over there. Looks like people have been cleared out for three weeks to a month.”

Delta looked at her appraisingly. “Country girl?”

Zipper shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Delta nodded and looked back at the surroundings. “Village girl myself. I couldn’t tell spelt from rye unless it was on a plate.”

“No shame in that”, said Zipper. She broke into another song about a baker mixing up ingredients.

Delta pulled out the contract they had been given. On the back was a very rough map and the itinerary they were expected to follow. “We’re supposed to make Kerhinet tonight.” She glanced up at the sun. It was starting to approach the horizon.

“Ya hear that Oswald?” shouted Zipper, flapping one of the reins. “I told you you’ve been slacking.” She flapped the other rein. “Show him Ping. Pick up the pace or we’ll all be wolf fodder after sunset.”

Delta turned and looked at their cargo. “I hadn’t thought about it that way. This has got to be something scavengers would pick up on, preserve spell or not.”

“A bloody great beacon to any carnivore’s nose”, complained Zipper. Despite her admonitions, the mules had not changed their pace. “Do you suppose they get trolls around here?”

Delta looked concerned. “With the people gone, no telling what’s come down from the mountains.” She shaded her hand against the sun and looked ahead. “I don’t see anything.”

“We must be close then”, said Zipper.

“Wouldn’t we see more if we were closer?” said Delta.

Zipper shook her head. “Nah. Why live in a field if town’s not so far away?”

The road had been going slightly upwards. Not long afterwards, around when the sun was getting nervously close to the horizon, they crested the slight rise. The land dropped much quicker on the other side to a small brook. The road crossed this with a bridge, and a village was immediately opposite it.

“No smoke”, said Delta. “I guess we would have known it was there if there were any fires.”

Zipper shrugged. “You guys got off easy today”, she said to the mules. “Tomorrow you might not be so lucky. Take it as a warning.”

Three roads crossed in the center of the village. There was an inn there, locked and boarded like all the other buildings. The gate that led to its inner courtyard was bound with a heavy chain and lock. Delta unlooped a thong from her belt with a big key they had been given. She unlocked and swung open the gates while Zipper led the mules through by hand.

“Hi honey, we’re home!” called out Zipper. She led the mules fully in, with the wagon as far from the gate as she could get it. Then she unharnessed the mules and led them to a stall she found there.

Delta saw to the gate in the meantime. Chained and locked it up again. There was another chain and lock on the inner barn door which she opened. Here they found a pump and some fodder stored, along with grooming equipment. There was also a door to the inn proper.

“One thing about the Imperialists”, said Zipper. “Their pay is crap, but I can’t argue the accommodation!”