Chapter 1
Georg Habersonne had never actually been to Bickenstadt before. He had heard about it, everyone in the Empire had heard of it, but seeing it in person was a different experience entirely. Bickenstadt was huge. Not as large as Grössenburg, but it was definitely close. The walls of Bickenstadt city were large, but far less imposing than the walls of Grössenburg or his native Rauchburg. Bickenstadt’s walls were made of yellowish stone, much easier on the eyes than the jet black walls of Grössenburg or Rauchburg, but no less functional.
Murals covered the walls, giant splotches of color which made it look far less drab than it would otherwise. The walls of Bickenstadt reflected what he had heard about the personality of the Baron, colorful and loud.
When Georg reached Castle Bickenstadt, a little bit after he finished sightseeing in Bickenstadt city, he was stopped by the guards. Something he noted was that the guards simply stopped him with a hand gesture and a shout. The Guards in Castle Grössenburg usually just point their rifles at anyone who approaches.
“Stop! State your name and business!”
“I am Georg Habersonne, and I have been called to Castle Bickenstadt by the Baron von Bickenstadt himself.”
“Do you have any proof you are who you claim to be?”
Georg took a paper out of his breast pocket and handed it to the guard.
“This is my proof of ownership for Die Bande des Wolfs.”
The guard looked over the paper quickly and handed it back to Georg.
“That checks out. You may enter. Stay in the audience hall until further notice. It’s the first room you will enter.”
Georg nodded as he took the paper back and went through the gate when the guards opened it, whistling in admiration as he entered the audience hall.
“Damn, Baron really likes to show off his wealth.”
The audience hall was massive. The ceiling was very high. The walls were lined with massive paintings, portraits of the Baron and his family, landscapes, historical battles, and other miscellaneous art pieces. At the end of the room was a throne, covered in massive pearls and beautiful polished red and green coral, made specifically to show off his wealth, and where his wealth comes from: the sea. Georg looked over and saw the seating area, filled with petitioners of all classes, from farmers to merchants to nobles.
Georg took a seat and waited to be seen, and after a short while, the Baron finally entered and sat upon his throne. He looked bored. Incredibly bored. Georg had seen nobles looking bored on a throne before, but the ones he had seen usually tried to hide it, at least a little bit. The Baron hadn’t even been sitting for ten seconds before he started tapping his foot on the floor and rapping his fingers on his armrest. Georg hadn’t met him in person yet, but he was already destroying all of his preconceptions of what a noble should be.
Here was a man, one of the most powerful men in the world, barely even hiding how much he didn’t want to deal with politics. Georg figured it was pretty obvious why he started a mercenary company, looking at this display. The Baron sat up in his chair, a faint look of hope on his face.
“Before I begin hearing petitions, is Georg Habersonne present?”
Georg stood up from his chair and waved to the Baron.
“Yes, I have responded to your summons.”
The Baron’s face lit up immediately. All of his fidgeting stopped as soon as Georg stood up.
“Excellent! The rest of you are dismissed, come back tomorrow and I will hear each and every one of your petitions. And if I don’t, I’ll create a citizen’s council to hear, reject, or approve petitions.”
The room erupted in complaints, but the Baron ignored them, gesturing for Georg to come to him. As Georg walked over, he realized that the Baron was far, far larger than he thought. He had met him once, but he was in business mode and it barely even registered.
The man was massive. Giant, perhaps. He was nearly a foot taller than Georg, his muscles looked well toned, and his shoulders were extremely broad.
This is the body of a warrior! A natural born warrior! Thought Georg as he took in the Baron's massive frame. When the Baron reached Georg, he threw his arm around his shoulder.
“Georg! I am so glad to see you! Hearing out petitioners makes me wish for death. I am definitely going to go through with that citizen's council idea. Come, we have much to discuss!”
The Baron lead Georg to smaller room, filled with Ludwin and a bunch of other people who Georg assumed were the Baron’s Lieutenants, based on Ludwin’s presence. Everyone immediately looked to the Baron as he entered the room.
“Everyone! Georg Habersonne is here! Time to plan our deployment to Orcland!”
A tall young man stood up. He was very attractive, his hair blonde, short, and neatly brushed back. He was completely clean shaven, showing off his strong jawline and attractive features. He was tall, though shorter than the Baron, and well built, though again, not as muscular as the Baron. The young man looked like how Georg would imagine a younger version of the Baron would look.
“Ah, good. If you would release him we can get started.”
The Baron took his arm off Georg’s shoulder and walked over to the table.
“You never let me have any fun.”
“Whatever. Georg, I hear you are quite familiar with Orcland, are you not?”
“Yes, I am. My company mostly operates in Orcland, so I am quite well known there. I could introduce you to any of the Skippers there.”
All of the lieutenants looked at each other in confusion. Wolfgang took out pencil and paper.
“Please, Georg, if you will, tell us what a Skipper is. As well as anything you find important. We wish to sell our services in Orcland, but we know very little about their societal structure.”
“Oh, alright. A Skipper is the leader of a town of Orcs, basically the equivalent of the Baron’s rank. They are in charge of the whole town. Oh, Orc society is structured by towns. A town to them is not just the actual settlement, it’s the territory you control. Think of it like this, imagine Bickenstadt city was just considered all of Bickenstadt province. All of the territory of Bickenstadt province is considered Bickenstadt city, even the other settlements within Bickenstadt province. So, Londonsburg is not just the actual Londonsburg settlement, known as Londonsburg city, but all of the territory that is controlled by the Skipper of Londonsburg. Does that make sense?”
Ludwin tilted his head to the side.
“I don’t get it. How is that different from Bickenstadt city and Bickenstadt province?”
“It’s different because they see no distinction between city and province. The whole province to them would be Bickenstadt city.”
The Baron threw up a hand in confusion.
“Is that not just a semantic difference?”
“Well, maybe, but don’t say that to the Orcs. They get really upset when you say stuff like that. The distinction is very important to them. The expansion of their town’s borders is a direct expansion of the town’s patron god’s power, so any real criticism of it tends to make them extremely angry.”
Wolfgang furiously scribbled everything down as Georg spoke, writing both Georg’s words down and Wolfgang’s thoughts on how that affected their plans.
“Each town is dedicated to an Orc god. That is, in fact, where they get the name of the cities. ‘Burg’ is an Orc word that means town. So the Orc god London has dominion over Londonsburg. There are about six towns, but four of them are mostly irrelevant at this point. The two most important towns are Londonsburg and Yorksburg.”
Georg’s eyes looked vaguely upwards as he tried to remember important things to note.
“Oh, and there is a subspecies…well, I don’t exactly know if they’re a subspecies or a different species entirely, but there is a type of Orc which they call ‘Gobs’. They are basically child sized Orcs, coming up to around my stomach area. They tend to be smarter than Orcs, but there aren’t that many of them, and they only have the strength of a child. They tend to be civil servant types, like engineers and doctors and whatnot, but some do join militaries as scouts or irregulars.”
Ludwin raised his hand and spoke.
“Is there anything really special we should know about these ‘Gobs’? Like, are they particularly respected in Orc society or something?”
Georg gave a small shrug.
“Not really. Knowing about Gobs shouldn’t really change your plans, but it is important to know that diplomacy with Gobs and Orcs is different. Orcs tend to respect strength and prefer simpler solutions, often duels, to solve their problems, though of course they can be just as reasonable as you or me. Gobs tend to respect intelligence and will avoid dueling non-Gobs. Being child sized doesn’t exactly lend itself to fighting adult sized beings.”
Georg rubbed his chin in thought.
“Oh, the most important thing to keep in mind when dealing with both Orcs and Gobs is that, while to us from the Empire they might sound kind of dumb, they are just as smart as us. Generally. Orcs may sound dumb sometimes, but that’s mostly because they just…think different. It’s not really anything I can describe, but Orc thought processes are just very hard for humans to follow sometimes. Sorry, but you’ll just have to meet with Orcs and see what I mean. Oh, and the Skipper of Bristolburg is a Gob, by the way. Other than that the other Skippers are Orcs.”
Wolfgang frantically wrote everything down, his pen moving lightning fast. Only a few seconds after Georg finished speaking, Wolfgang finished writing, drawing a large circle around the sentence ‘Londonsburg most powerful?’.
“So, Georg, the Baron and I were thinking of selling our services to the Skipper of Londonsburg. What are your thoughts on that?”
“I think that’s probably the best thing you can do. Orcs are always fighting to expand the influence of their gods, and Londonsburg and Yorksburg especially are always fighting. The Skipper of Londonsburg is known for his love of hiring and studying foreign mercenaries, so he will most likely jump at the opportunity to hire the legendary Klarwasser Mercenary Company. He’s who I do most of my business with, so we know each other pretty well. Tensions between them and Yorksburg are flaring up at the moment, so there is a chance he might offer you more than usual. I can send you to him with a letter of introduction, if you want. It should speed things up for you.”
“That would be excellent. We would be grateful if you could get that done as soon as you get the chance. And…for the most part, that’s all we need from you, so you are free to leave.”
“Before I leave, I want to give you some advice that I wish I had known when I started out in Orcland.”
“Oh? And what would that be?”
Georg lifted the flap of his coat, showing off the material of his coat.
“You should get wool coats for all of your men. I’ve found it to be the best for not freezing to death. Oh, and very important for you to remember, do not, and I repeat, do NOT let metal touch your bare skin. A while ago, one of my men wore his armor without properly bundling up. He died of frostbite, his skin was black everywhere his armor touched. Extremely painful. I’ve been frostbitten before, so I’d know. Thank the gods for healing magic, right?”
The Baron slapped Georg’s shoulder and laughed raucously.
“Ain’t that the truth! I would be retired by now if not for healing magic! About a year ago I fought this berzerkeri, right? Almost broke every bone in my body! It was a great fight! Until his men tried to finish me, that wasn't nearly as fun.”
“Oh, I would hate to fight a berzerkeri. I’m a fine fighter, but I’m not that fine! I’m not even a gifted one!”
The Baron nodded appreciatively.
“Really? Quite impressive you’ve lasted this long then, most mercenary captains I know are battle hungry maniacs and distinguish themselves that way. You must be an incredible leader.”
“Not really, mostly just lucky. Anyways, I’ll get you that letter of recommendation soon. I’ll also send a letter to Jack himself, letting him know you’re coming. Oh, Jack’s the name of the Skipper of Londonsburg by the way.”
“Thank you, Georg. I would love to work with you in the future. You wouldn’t happen to be deploying to Orcland any time soon, are you?”
“No, unfortunately. My boys just got home from Orcland, they’re on break for the next couple of months.”
The Baron frowned slightly before returning to his smile.
“Ah, I see. Just a little advice, from one mercenary captain to another, see if you can get your men to train when they’re not fighting. That’s why my men are so good, we drill constantly when we’re not on assignment. Or when they’re not on vacation.”
Georg thought about this for a moment.
“Well, I’ll see if I can convince the men, though I doubt it. Most of us have been together for a long time now, and they don’t tend to enjoy change.”
The Baron smiled and slapped Georg on the back.
“Well, they ought to get used to it, yeah? Times are a changing!”
Georg smiled slightly and started walking out.
“Well, changing times generally means war, and war is good for business!”
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A week after meeting with Georg Habersonne, on July 29th, 1660, the Klarwasser Mercenary Company was almost ready to move out. In the courtyard of Castle Bickenstadt, there was a flurry of activity. The men of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company were loading their supplies onto wagons. Instead of taking ships to Orcland, they decided they would ride to Grossenburg and ferry across the channel to Orcland, a trip which would take around two days.
Ships may generally be faster, but there is much less risk of losing men and supplies in an overland caravan, and Jean wanted to get a better idea of the state of Imperial infrastructure, which the Baron figured was a good thing to know.
They could afford to take their time heading over to Orcland, for the most part, but they still wished to move as quickly as they could. The only thing preventing their mobilization was Jean, who was in charge of logistics. He was unhappy with the low volume of supplies the Baron was bringing along.
“But Baron, don’t you think that we should along with us bring more black powder? And perhaps extra sets of armour and weapons? Maybe more clothing?”
“We’ve never had a problem with running out of powder before, if we bring less with us in the beginning it lightens our load and allows us to travel faster. After we have arrived at wherever we are going, we buy the lion's share of powder locally. We have never had a problem with that before.”
“You ‘ave not ‘ad a problem with finding black powder before because you were working in the Empire or Assai’id! The Orcs do not use guns as often as we! They may ‘ave less black powder laying around for us to buy!”
The Baron paused as he bent over to pick up a crate.
“Do Orcs not use firearms?”
“They do, just much less than we do. Or so I’m told. From what I understand, guns in Orcland tend to be used by Gobs, and, since there are less Gobs than Orcs, it stands to reason there is less black powder production.”
The Baron scruffed his beard in thought.
“Hm. Alright, I see where you’re coming from. You may be right. Hmm…alright fine. You decide how much black powder we bring. It’s on you to figure out how much.”
“Merci, Baron. What about the other things I brought up? Extra clothing, weapons, armour? I ask that in the very least you allow me to with us bring the old muskets. Le Grande Armée de la République still uses mostly muskets, despite access to plenty of rifles.”
The Barin raised an eyebrow.
“Are you suggesting we also use mostly muskets?”
“Not necessarily! I do not understand why they use muskets for common foot soldiers despite easy access to rifles, I just know they do, and they must ‘ave a reason for that. I was not part of the Armée, well, not as a soldier, so I was not made aware of why. And, it could not hurt to have backups.”
“Alright, fine. We can bring along the muskets. Like you said, can’t hurt to have them as a backups.”
“Excellent! Merci, Baron, again. And now, about the armour and non-firearm weapons…”
“No. If we need replacements, we buy those in Orcland. I highly doubt they don’t have weapons we can use, or armorers that can replace or repair our gear. Taking extras will just slow us down. Plus, even if everything is sized for Orcs, I’m sure we can modify them to be usable by us.”
Jean chewed on his thumbnail as he thought.
“Hmm…I believe should be fine, I suppose. The same thing should be true for winter clothes…alright then, I ‘ave nothing further to petition from you. We can move out after everything ‘as been loaded on the wagons. I still think we should take a ship from Bickenstadt to Orcland, but I suppose I do not know that much about how expensive ocean travel is.”
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Well...I prefer overland travel. In the past, I shipped everything by boat to the Assai’id, but one of the ships sank, and then we didn’t have enough men or materials to properly fight. After that, I just prefer to travel by foot. Shipwrecks are rare, but still, I would rather not risk it more than I have to.”
“Well, I just think that, per’aps sea travel would be quicker and cheaper?”
The Baron scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed.
“You’re right…but we’re still going overland.”
Jean waited for a moment for the Baron to continue, but sighed as he just walked away, barking orders to his men to bring another cart full of gunpowder and muskets.
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The Klarwasser Mercenary Company was currently twiddling their thumbs just outside the gates of Grössenburg. The men were mulling around the carts, playing card games or generally riffing with their comrades. There was not much for them to do until the Baron started the march back up. Currently, their march was stopped in its tracks by a Grössenburg official refusing to let them through the gates.
“Just let us through you dullard! Do you even know who I am?”
The official adjusted his bifocals as he glared at the Baron.
“Yes, the baron von Bickenstadt, I am aware. And unfortunately, the people of Grössenburg have no need to watch your toy soldiers prance about the greatest city in the world.”
The Baron made no attempt to hide the angry look his face immediately scrunched into.
“Toy soldiers!? You dare insult my men! Do you even know who they are? First you refuse us entry, then you insult the finest soldiers in the world! You forget yourself, little gatekeeper!”
“I apologize for the inconvenience, but you and your men will have to march back home to Bickenstadt.”
“Not only am I an Imperial citizen, but I am also an Imperial noble! I have the right to free movement, as was granted to me in the Imperial Book of Laws, Book Eight, subsection B, ‘The right of any Imperial citizen to move freely throughout the land shall not be infringed unless as punishment for a crime.’ You are in violation of Imperial law, and I am sure I do not need to explain to you how the Empire treats bureaucrats who break Imperial law!”
The Baron was beginning to sound frantic. Frantic and angry.
“And as an Imperial bureaucrat, I know that according to a new law passed just recently, Imperial Book of Laws, newly created Book Nine, subsection A, known as ‘Gatekeeper’s clause’, means that I now have the right to prevent any suspicious and unsavory characters from passing through my gates. If you want to move your men through Grossenstadt, you will need the permission of the Empress.”
The Baron ground his teeth in frustration.
“Do you really want to keep us waiting? Don’t you have better things to do than prevent me from gaining glory?”
“No, I do not. Nothing is more important than protecting Grössenstadt from men like you.”
“Protecting? What exactly do you think I will do? You think I’m going to try and take Grössenstadt with a mere 785 men? Wait, you think I would attack Grössenburg Period? What kind of knuckle-dragging barbarian do you take me for?! I am a man of the Empire for Christ's sake!”
“Christ?”
Oh shit.
“It’s a turn of phrase-Now let my men through these gates before I make your life a living hell!”
The gatekeeper tapped his charcoal pencil against his temple in thought. The Baron sighed audibly, his shoulders drooping as he reached into his inner breast pocket, retrieving a leather bag.
“I’ll give you sixty Reiksgeld if you let us pass.”
“Is this a bribe?”
“No, it’s a toll. An Imperial toll. Put it to use shoring up infrastructure or something. Just take it and let us through, I am tired of yelling at you. The faster you let us through, the faster we get out of your hair.”
The gatekeeper thought for a moment before scribbling on his tablet.
“Alright, fine. Your men may enter. Just leave quickly.”
The Baron let out a sigh of relief.
“Thank God.”
The Baron turned to his men and yelled.
“We are moving!”
A cheer rang out from the men as the gates opened and the wagons started moving.
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As the Baron led his column of soldiers and baggage train through the streets of Grössenburg, he had to expend quite a bit of effort to maintain a neutral expression. All around him, doing the lion's share of the grunt work in the city, were elven slaves. Wherever there was major construction going on, there was a group of men and women wearing dirty rags with prominent pointed ears. The foreman directed their labor to where it needed to go, as well as informing them of what needed to be done and how.
The only non-slave laborers that could be seen were stonemasons, carpenters, and artisans, whose roles were not filled by slaves due to the level of education required to perform their respective duties.
And, while the vast majority of them were humans, there were even a few elven foremen. Their clothes, while not as nice as the human foremen, were far better than those of the laborers. The Baron spared a glance back to Jean, who was very obviously trying to ignore them by reading a book. Even though he tried not to, Jean’s eyes occasionally, almost involuntarily, flicked up over the book and onto the slaves.
Udo was riffing with the foot soldiers, most likely so used to the sight of elven slaves working that he hardly even noticed. It was something that everyone who lived in Grossenburg learned to do: allow the elven slaves to simply blend into the background noise that accompanied living in a major city. Gaius was also joking around with the soldiers, as he was also used to the sight of slaves working, growing up in Caprae Loco, where slavery was legal and normalized.
Ludwin, unlike Jean, was genuinely reading a book, having purchased the newest Hans Bruekner novel titled ‘The Traveling Clowns of Bvarian Province’, as the column of soldiers marched. Fergus, who was sitting right next to him, could not take his eyes off the elven slaves, balling his fists as he witnessed the extent of elven slavery in Grossenburg.
Helmut was laying down in the back of a cart, hands rested on his stomach, staring off into space, his expression completely unreadable. Occasionally he would take a bite of an apple, but other than that he remained mostly still.
The Baron whistled to a nearby soldier, inviting him to come closer.
“Go down the column and inform everyone, we’re picking up the pace. I want out of here as soon as possible.”
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As the last of the carts were loaded onto ferries in Grössenburg harbor, the Baron gazed at a building not too far away from the docks. It was Castle Grössenburg, headquarters of the Empress, and by extension, the Landwerte and the Grand Imperial Army. There was a balcony near the top of the castle overlooking the docks. On the balcony, the Baron could see two figures, one of a woman, and one of a man. The Empress and Spymaster Brusilov.
“Baron! Time for us to board.”
The Baron’s eyes never left the balcony.
“Yeah, of course Ludwin.”
Ludwin tapped the Baron’s shoulder.
“Uh, Baron? Is everything alright?”
The Baron was silent for a few seconds, not taking his eyes off the balcony before speaking.
“I’m thinking.”
Ludwin followed the Baron’s eyes to the balcony.
“I see.”
After a few seconds the Empress turned around and stepped back inside, leaving Brusilov alone on the balcony. After a few seconds, Ludwin gently shook the Baron’s shoulder.
“Baron, we really should get going.”
The Baron continued to stare at Brusilov. After a couple more seconds of staring, Brusilov waved at the Baron and followed after the Empress. The Baron smiled and turned to face Ludwin.
“Alright, that’s all I needed to see. Let’s get going. The longer we stay here the more street urchins will smuggle themselves into our baggage train. We’ve got a long, cold march ahead of us and we need to keep the number of boys to an absolute minimum.”
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The Baron had both his arms firmly planted inside the sleeves of his coat. Wind whipped against his face and flung the ends of his cloth around in every direction.
“Jesus H. Christ, how much farther to Londonsburg?”
He said to the air, not really intending anyone to respond.
“I believe it’s about ten more miles, sir.”
The Baron looked over to the source of the voice: Helmut, wearing just the coat given to him over his normal clothes.
“Helmut? Aren’t you cold? You’re not wearing your wool cap. I bought those for a reason, you know. Heat leaves through your head.”
Helmut responded, not moving his head to look at the Baron, simply staring straight ahead as he marched.
“Jagstadt gets like this. I lived in the woods out there for a couple of years.”
I didn’t know that. Now that I think about it, I don’t really know that much about his past.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
Right, getting answers out of him about his past is like pulling teeth.
“Forget it. Just put on the damned hat.”
The Baron reached into a nearby cart and flung a cap over to Helmut. He caught the hat, but instead of putting it on, he stared at something behind the Baron.
“We’ve got company, sir.”
The Baron turned and saw two plumes of snow in the distance.
“So it appears.”
“Baron!”
Fergus ran up to the Baron, carrying Udo on his back.
“Udo’s got frostbite! It looks pretty bad!”
“How on earth did Udo get frostbite? Did you not follow my instructions?”
Udo rested his chin on Fergus’s shoulder, smiling sheepishly.
“No, I didn’t. I don't wanna wear all that stuff you gave me. Limits my range of movement.”
The Baron shook his head like a disappointed father.
“Where are you frostbitten?”
“I think it’s on my arms, and in spots on my chest. Around my joints, I think. It really hurts, man.”
“Jesus Christ somebody get Geidpfeld over here! He should be near the back with the food carts! And someone bring some of the extra winter gear! The insulation!”
One of the Baron’s men nearby saluted and ran off to get the doctor. Udo was trying to not let the pain affect his expression.
“I thought I would be fine, man. I knew it was cold, but not that cold! It's July for Alaric’s sake! Never got frostbite in Grössenburg, that’s pretty north!”
The Baron shook his head disappointedly.
“Well, this is farther north than Grössenburg. And I doubt you were wearing your armor that much in Grossenburg. The metal gets much colder than your surroundings, which is why you have to bundle up this far north. By God man, I already told you this!”
“I wasn’t listening! I’m sorry!”
“You fucking clown. You’re lucky I don’t just let your fingers fall off.”
Udo stuck out his hands around Fergus’s sides, showing off his gloves.
“My fingers aren’t frostbitten, I’m wearing the gloves you gave me!”
Geidpfeld appeared behind Udo, the lit torch in his left hand emitting acrid black smoke.
“They say you’ve gotten frostbite. There really is not too much I can do about that, magic-wise. Sorry.”
The Baron’s face dropped.
“What?”
“Why would I know how to treat frostbite with magic? I work in the southlands, it’s not exactly a huge problem down there.”
Son of a bitch! I didn’t think of that!
“Is…there anything you can do about it?”
“Well, I can do a non-magical treatment, not nearly as quick nor as effective, but it will have to do, and it should keep him alive until an Orc medic can get to him.”
Geidpfeld briefly held a cloth near the torch.
“All we need to do is gently warm the affected area and keep it from refreezing. Oh, also it will hurt significantly more, but Udo’s a big boy. He can handle it.”
As they were discussing how to treat Udo, the ‘company’ arrived. It was a small party of mounted Orcs.
They were very large, larger than the Baron, as far as he could tell with them sitting on horses, though not by much. They were wearing trapper hats, the flaps tied together around their chins. They wore thick goatskin coats, lined with rough fur. On their feet were long boots, also lined with rough fur. They were all armed with simple, sturdy looking boar spears and a small round shield. The thing that surprised the Baron the most, however, was the fact that each of them wore small, round, black sunglasses. One of them rode forward and spoke to the Baron.
“Wez ‘eard you’d ‘round ‘ere! You da Baron?”
The Baron stepped forwards and bowed.
“Yes, I am the Baron. Has the Skipper of Londonsburg sent you to escort us?”
“Yeah, da boss told us ta find you an’ bring you to ‘im.”
“Excellent. Then we are in your care. Oh, and if it’s not too much trouble, could you send one of your men ahead to Londonsburg with one of mine, Udo? He has frostbite, didn’t listen to my instructions on how to avoid it. Let his armor touch his bare skin.”
The Orc shook his head from side to side.
“Da git’s a stupid one ta make dat mistake, but if 'e survives I bet 'es not gonna make dat mistake again! Da docta calls dat 'deaf by 'ubris'. ‘Arry! Take da Baron’s man to a ‘ealer. ‘E seems to need it.”
The rider next to him nodded.
“Roight!”
He rode forward and helped Udo onto his horse, riding away as soon as Udo was stable in the saddle. As the Orc rode off into the distance with Udo, the Baron addressed the first Orc, most likely their leader, again.
“So, do we just follow you and your men Londonsburg?”
“Yeah. Wez gonna take you along da safer roots, da ones bandits an’ other gitz know to stay outta.”
“Alright then, that sounds good. Lead the way.”
The Baron whistled and pointed to the sky, making a circle with his hand.
“We’re picking up the pace boys! We’ve got Orc guides now!”
The Baron gestured to his lieutenants.
“Go down the column and inform everyone of what’s happening. Tell them to listen to whatever the Orcs say.”
The Lieutenants saluted and rode off to fulfill their orders.
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After a mostly uneventful march, the Klarwasser Mercenary Company finally reached Londonsburg. The city was large, around the same size as Bickenstadt, though smaller. This was, as far as the Baron knew, the most populous city in Orcland. The city was large, though not nearly as large as Grossenburg or Bickenstadt it could easily rival many an Imperial city. The walls were large, imposing, and composed of lightly colored blueish stone native to the region, as well as wooden stakes sticking out from the ground and walls. From his position the Baron could see small figures walking around on the battlements, Orc figures are rather large and hard to hide, afterall.
On the battlements were tall and wide crenellations, each one spaced out by about half the length of open space between each one. Large towers loomed over the large flatland around Yorksburg. Farther out, scattered about the cleared flatlands, closer to the uncleared forests then than to the city proper, were small to medium sized wooden forts, which most likely served to force any sieging army to waste time capturing or destroying each of the ten or so forts littered around the hundred or so yards cleared around each side of the roughly square city.
The leader of the Orc scouting party turned to the Baron, chest puffing out in pride.
“‘Ows it look from ‘ere? Londonsburg’s da pride o’ all o’ Orcland!”
“What about Yorksburg?”
“Wot about Yorksburg?! Barely even a village compared to da greatness o’ Londonsburg!”
The Baron shrugged.
“That remains to be seen.”
The Orc leaned closer to the Baron, squinting his eyes behind the sunglasses..
“Wot’s dat supposed to mean?”
Ah shit. I really need to be more careful with my words.
“Well, I doubt it will even measure up to that assessment after we’re done with it.”
After taking a second to mull that answer over, the Orc laughed a loud, mirthful belly laugh.
“Dey ain’t gonna be talkin’ ‘bout Yorksburg so much after wez done wif ‘em, dats for true!”
The Baron gestured towards Londonsburg.
“Alright, are you going to guide us into the city? Or is someone else doing that?”
“Wez gonna lead you to your Inn an’ ‘ead back out. Yorksburg’s been gettin’ a little close to us, wez gonna crush der ‘eads in soon, I give it a coupla days.”
The Baron nodded.
“Let's hope so. For my sake, as well as yours. I get paid quite well when things go poorly.”
The Orc shook his head from side to side, chuckling slightly.
“I’d love to get your pay, but da honour a’ expanding London’s domain is second to none! So lets get yaz to your Inn so I can crack some skulls!”
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The Orcs led the Klarwasser Mercenary Company to their accommodations, and swiftly booked it as soon as the front of the column reached the Inn. As the men were unloading their supplies and assigning rooms, and the camp followers were ingratiating themselves to the quartermasters and merchants in the surrounding area, the Baron left to speak with the Skipper of London. The Skipper of London was located in a building they referred to as ‘The Skipper’s Palace’.
Though they called it a palace it was more of like a castle styled after a mansion. The whole thing looked like normal city walls, though sized down to the size of a single castle, and about twice as thick to allow for larger rooms and hallways. It seemed to be built roughly as an octagon containing all the rooms with a large open space in the middle for whatever the Orcs wanted. As the Baron approached the gates he was stopped by two Orc guards who levied their pikes at him.
“‘O’s dere? Wot business ya got ‘ere?”
The Baron rested his wrist on the pommel of his saber confidently.
“I am the Baron von Bickenstadt, here to meet the Skipper of Londonsburg.”
Both of the guards raised their pikes, allowing them to rest against their shoulders.
“Roight. Wez been told you’d be ‘ere. ‘Ead on in. Trone room ‘n garden are in da courtyard.”
The Baron gave them a short bow in thanks and headed to the courtyard, being stopped by another set of Orc guards at the entrance to the courtyard and going through the exact same rigmarole before being let into the courtyard.
The courtyard was not what the Baron was expecting. There were many plants, all thriving and vibrant despite the fact that they were all half buried in the snow. The Baron suspected there was magic afoot to explain how they could properly survive in the snow. Occasionally poking up through the snow were flowers, some were normal, like white roses and tulips of various light and dark shades of blue, but others were obviously magical, like the flowers made of ice which slowly grew large and slowly shrank over the course of 30 seconds.
There were other plants as well, pussywillow poking out through the snow, trumpet vines winding around fences, their flowers a beautiful pink and orange, as well as larger plants such as small elderberry trees, small elder trees, and other beautifully varied plants which had no business being alive while literally buried in snow.
In the middle of the courtyard was a pale red brick path cleared of snow, leading all the way to the throne, sitting atop a wooden platform. The throne was large, far larger than the Baron’s own throne. It was made of beautifully lacquered reddish brown wood, covered in metal decorations, thick black steel wire coiled into spirals. Entwined with said steel wires were vines of Orcish Bull’s Eye, orange flowers with yellow highlights at the edges of the pedals, with a stark black pistil tying the whole look together.
Sitting upon the throne was an Orc, much larger than any other the Baron had seen, possibly close to seven and a half feet tall, maybe more. He was wearing armor, an Elizabethan style plate armor made of steel very light in color. Sticking out of his armor were various furs, light beige in color, and around his neck was a darker, coarser looking shoulder pelt, made from a fox native to Orcland.
Upon his head sat a crown. Solid gold, inlaid with multicolored gems alongside the incredibly intricate etching that covered the crown, stopping just before the prongs at the top, metal effigies of dragons and orcs battling at the top of his head, finished with a single red gem sat in the middle. The Baron walked to where the brick path stopped and widened out, lowering himself to one knee to show the Skipper proper respect.
“Rise, Baron o’ Bickenstadt. Wez ‘ave much to discuss. I imagine youz be wanting to talk, so wez gonna do it somewhere quiet ‘n private like, yeah?”
The Baron rose, assuming a neat and snappy parade rest. He had a bright smile on his face, trying to give the Skipper a good impression. Many Orcs considered Empiresmen to be uptight and humorless, so he hoped that the smile might make him look more amicable than the Empiresmen they were used to dealing with.
“Of course, Skipper of Londonsburg, where would you like to discuss our business?”
“Wez got my private study. Come, my boyz will escort you dere wif me.”
The Baron bowed his head in agreement.
“I am in your hands.”