I did not get to make that decision. The rumble of opening fortress gates drew my attention. Curiosity banished indecision as I turned to see the bastion walls of Lighthouse Keep itself, open. It was no exaggeration to say that the ground itself shook when the great portal moved. Lighthouse Keep was built upon an abandoned structure reclaimed by our forefathers. House Averntide improved upon it with secrets only they knew. Aesthetically the ancestral seat of the great house was ugly. It had none of the gothic flair Reich architecture had nor the pleasing geometry of Old Imperial work. For all the finery I have seen, I do not think that there is a fortress that can rival the Keep for function. I am unfair in calling it ugly. No, it was utterly utilitarian.
Out of the smooth grey gates marched what I could only call a parade of warriors. It was an utterly unexpected spectacle. Some sixty housecarls in all their martial finery exited the fortress. Behind them came streaming banner and musicians. At their head was a giant. By giant I do not mean a tall man. It was the first time that I had laid eyes on Lord Cedric Averntide. Son and heir to the then Lord Protector. The size of a highborn more or less depends on the bloodline the have inherited. On average they reach seven to eight feet tall. Lord Cedric was a little shorter than his father, Earl Harold. He was eleven feet in stature, with the bulk to match his height.
It was a bizarre procession to watch. They sauntered more than marched, and it all came across as gaudy. We fighting men all love strutting ourselves like barnyard cocks, but this was almost parody. Untreated maile polished to a silver sheen, plumed helms, embroidered cloaks. It was all very impractical, but it caught my attention. And that was the point. I watched them pass me. With nothing better to do I followed them into the city.
Reaching the outskirts of a busy thoroughfare, the procession took on a festive air. Up ahead at mercer’s square was the sound of a drum. The musicians of the procession took up the beat and began playing a shrill tune catching everyone’s attention.
“Hear ye! Hear ye! All good folks of Isle! Lay down your labors and lend us your ears!”
It was hard not to. If the display was gaudy to my eyes, it was fantastical to the crowd. They looked like stage actors performing a saga. Besides a dirty big giant in silvery armor was a sight hard to miss.
“Here before you stand Lord Cedric, vanquisher of the Northmen, conqueror of the west, heir to the Lord Protector! He is…”
It was the typical spiel given by all recruiters. Oh, you have never seen a company recruitment drive before? Forgive me, we old salts have done this a thousand times over. The beat of a drum in the center of town is the universal call to arms. In the Free Cities the better-known companies do not even bother with a parade. They just have a drummer boy and a recruiting sergeant to swear you in. I was new to the whole thing as well back then. I think we all were. The last time any form of recruitment happened was during our grandparent’s time. When the last Æsc invasion was being put down, the Earl raised the fyrd to man his fleet. This was different.
“Long have we suffered under the cruel impositions of the Reich! Our livelihoods lost! Our children starving! They have decided that the bounty of the north cannot be shared! We who shared our wealth have been betrayed and cast aside!”
Your typical rabble-rousing fare. A healthy amount of jingoism and fear. There was some truth in his oration but his penchant for bellowing and hyperbole had lost me. I listened anyway; it was free street theater.
“We are not the only people to have felt the cruel yolk of the Kaiser! For longer than we have, the good people of Auburn have toiled under the callous rule of foreign overlords! Bread from their mouths taken to fuel an empire of hate! The good lords of the south have now rally under the banner of freedom! Our two nations are brothers by fate! It is by their grain we have been fed and by our resources they flourished! One cannot stand without the other!”
For all the limited exposure I had with the south, I knew this was far from the entire truth. A few head nodded along but the crier had lost quite a bit of the crowd. They all disliked the Reich, but they could not give a fig about a foreign people’s plight. We had enough problems of our own already.
“Lord Cedric will lead an army south to lend legitimacy to our brothers cause! The Earl offers good silver for able bodies and stout hearts! Come ye bold sons of the north, there are people to be liberated, glory to be won, and gold to be plundered!”
Liberty, glory, and gold. Or more accurately gold, glory, and liberty. That was the order of priorities that led to the first Isles expedition. I was mildly intrigued by the offer but felt more apathy than inspiration to enlist. Tired and burnt out, I looked for an inn.
Several days passed in a haze of apathy. I polished the skill of hibernation to an art form. I rose one afternoon to a beam of light on my face. I could see dust motes hanging in the air. I heard life being lived outside my window. Bleary eyed and not a little unsteady I opened the shutters to let in the world. My mouth was dry and my head swimming. Still I felt a little more alive than I had felt before. It was as if I had emerged from a darkness behind me. I listened to the streets and watched the people for a while. The room I rented was modest and relatively well furnished for what it was. Everything was untouched except for the bed. I noticed that I had my bag packed and my sword strapped to it. It was sitting by the door like a sign.
I smiled an unhappy smile. It was like the night I had left home five years ago. It was time to leave again. Not before I had a wash and change of clothes though. The innkeeper’s wife pointed me to barrel out back. It was next to their well and close to the sewer. I had spent a penny to borrow a bar of soap and thoroughly planned on using my money’s worth. The water was cold, and the barrel cramped. I enjoyed it. Well washed, I decided to give my garments a clean and a shave as well. I had always been clean shaven. I disliked the patchy growth I had as a young man. Damp haired and dripping water I hastily returned to my room.
Changing into clean clothes and belting on a knife, I left the rest of my belongings in the room. It was too late for lunch and too early for supper. I was close to the mercers’ quarter in the city. There were stalls and hawkers selling food in the square. Only that it catered to the wealthy professionals working there. It was a short walk to coopers’ row, and I knew the place well. I could pick up a cheap bite before supper and take a walk down memory lane.
The pie was horrible in all the right ways. A mystery meat special that had the occasionally disconcerting solid in it. It was a guilty pleasure; my father would never allow me to have one. He considered it unhealthy and unhygienic. He was right. They gave me a singular bowl adventure the first time I tried one. My stomach had hardened since then. As I walked up the road, I had one foot in the past and the other in present. Two blocks further and a right turn then a block more and another right. That lead to Saker’s Apothecaries. I paused to let a gaggle of children pass me. For all the talk of starvation there was still laughter in these streets.
Without meaning to I found myself standing before Winston’s door. Or more accurately his fathers’ workshop. The doors were open, and I could see apprentices busy at work. They gently worked with wood and tools. Form their hands they made something. I reflected on the things my hands had made had made and fell into brooding.
“Hello? Can I help you”
I do not know how long I stood there but I turned to find a handsome young man with a familiar young woman. They were holding hands and It took a moment for me to recognize them. It was Winston, him with his single smiling eye. His partner was tall and thin. She looked as sharp as a dagger. It was Hilda, my sister.
“You have. Thank you.”
I turned away and walked away as fast as I could. They hadn’t recognized me, and it stung. It had been over a year since I last visited Winston and five for my family. Whilst the meeting was bitter it left me feeling an indescribable peace. Hilda looked happy, she looked good with Winston. My world had moved on and all would be well. I was time to move on as well. For good.
Supper was eaten alone. I sat at the back of the inns common room. Business was subdued so I did not need to share a table. There was a lightness to my being as I considered my two options. I could go west, or I could go south. I remembered Janie and my decision was made for me. Now that I had a direction everything seemed a little better. Washed and well fed I went to my room and got out of my clothes. It would be a busy day tomorrow and I fell into a dream of warm southern light and golden fields.
I rose early the next day and spent the morning hours looking after my equipment. I oiled my leathers and scrubbed patches of rust off my sword. Giving the blade a new edge and oiling it, I returned it to its scabbard. There were a few other necessities to purchase but I decided that they could wait. I needed to see if the army would take me anyway. Sword on my hip and dressed in padded leathers, I left for mercers’ square.
There was a table set up near the center of the busy opening and there sat a bored looking man. Banners hung limply from the stall as passersby went about their business. A lot of the energy had died from the initial fanfare a few days ago. All that remained was a boy drumming out of beat and a very disinterested looking recruiter. He had something new to look at when my shadow cast over him.
“You here to sign up for his Lordships southern expedition? Just sign your name or leave your mark in this book here. I am afraid that your place is not guaranteed, and your first pay will be withheld until there is confirmation that you have been selected.”
“When do we sail?”
“At the end of the month I gather. Should you be selected that is. There is space for six hundred but many more in excess have applied. Do you possess any skills or talents that may make you more useful than the others?
“I can read and write.”
“So can I.”
“I can speak the language.”
“What, the southern tongue?”
“Auburn and a bit of Reich.”
“Bloody hell, that’s useful alright!”
A strange sinking feeling set into my stomach. I wondered what a band of heavily armed Isle men hoped to achieve without being able to communicate. Putting those thought away I answered several other questions dutifully and left. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I was in. Not all men came with their own equipment. I was a freebooter but not a greenhorn, I knew my way around a fight and could handle hard living. I was confident in my abilities; the recruiter was confident too. Though in retrospect he was far happier with my expendability than any martial qualities I had.
Oh no, they were not looking for the best of the best. If they had half a mind to send competent forces across the grey, they would not have bothered with recruitment. House Averntide had a small army of housecarls and sworn men. The whole expedition was more of a political gesture than an actual invasion force. Lord Cedric was being sent to lend the whole affair a sense of grandeur. Should things turn south, he had a small cadre of proven veterans who would cut their way to the closest shore. What he needed was a lot of useful but not irreplaceable bodies.
Blithely unaware of the greater forces at work, I went about making my preparations. Not that knowing I was expendable would have changed anything. I was going south to make a new life for myself. In all honesty I was ambivalent about the Reich. They were people just like us living their lives in the south. The will of the Kaiser meant nothing to me. If anything, he had indirectly given me opportunities otherwise unavailable in different times. The expedition was a show of force. I would quit the army when it was time to go back. With a mercenary attitude I set out to buy a new pair of boots.
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Sweat saves blood, blood saves lives. Or so the old saying goes. Thought and preparation is the first defining difference between the dead and the living. I did a lot of sweating, thinking, preparation, and bleeding. I collected every penny I had saved and called in every debt. Breaking in the new boots was a pain but better done early. I took to wearing ankle wraps and great kilts from my time in the highlands. I still wore britches. No, the great kilt is more of a very long tunic or shawl than a skirt. It was handy in inclement weather and doubled as a decent blanket. I took to wearing a knit cap as a concession to head protection. I would quickly abandon it in the hot southern summers.
When I went to Wulfric to give him my permanent resignation, he laughed it off. It turned out that he was contracted to carry us south. He and his ships would handle dispatches and sit around the coast incase a quick retreat was required. I felt no small relief to hear that Oskar would be joining expedition. The lanky killer would be marching with us. I knew of no better man to have beside you when you needed to cut your way out of trouble.
On the day of departure there was a festive air in the city. I had everything I owned slung over my back. The hilt of my sword softly clanked against the targe every step I took. People lined the streets and threw shreds of colored paper. Crowds parted when they saw me pass. Mothers would press food into my hands, or a father would heartily clap my back. I was one of six hundred sons being sent to fight for freedom. Or that was how the Lord Protector sold it to his people. Again, he wasn’t entirely wrong, but the masses loved it and that was what mattered. We were assembled at a central plaza and would be marched out to the docks.
I use the word march generously. We were a gaggle of mercenaries and freebooters. Cadence or formation were as foreign as discipline and professionalism. Still our job was to look good and I thought we did adequately. Or at least the housecarls and Lord Cedric did. They would be the paraded heroes; we were just there to pad out the numbers.
Once assembled and accounted for, we received our first pay. Thirteen schillings. I had five hundred and sixty-four schillings to my name. I had the pounds and pennies changed into the sterling’s. They were accepted if not favored on the continent. Somebody important gave an address that I don’t remember, and people cheered. Lord Cedric then took the head of our column and led us out. More strangers put food into my hands and offered platitudes. I felt oddly guilty accepting all their good will. My reasons for enlisting were mercenary. Perhaps it was the remnants of a tattered conscience. We were passing coopers’ row when I caught sight of father and Hilda in the crowd. Gods how he had aged. Panic seized me as I wondered how they knew I was leaving. Beside them stood Winston’s parents. Yes, he had a mother. A dear old lady, I should have said something of her.
I passed their eyes without a spark of recognition. They were not out here for me. I laughed at myself, attracting curious looks. An insidious dread crept into my thoughts and took root. If they were not out for me… Desperately I looked about me to catch sight of the idiot. The crowd was too dense, and I was soon pushed along. We were divided into batches and loaded into transports. It was the first time I was aboard a warship. The novelty was lost on me as my thoughts were all in a torrent. I needed to find Winston and get him out of this mess.
Winston was not aboard my vessel, neither was Wulfric or Oskar. It was an unhelpful mass of unfamiliar faces. Giving up I looked for an out of the way spot to put my belongings. A hand dropped on my shoulder. From behind came a youthful voice.
“I know you.”
Turning I saw a fresh-faced boy grinning at me. Alright, he was at the most a year younger than me. But he had none of weathering I had. He was dressed far better than I was. Far better than anyone I had any right to know.
“I don’t.”
“I remember you. Two years ago. In the battle against the Austin curs.”
“You were there? I’m sorry but I don’t remember you.”
“I’d be surprised if you did. I was on horseback a mile away. My father bought me out to watch the battle. But you I remember you. I saw you break a shield wall. I saw the duel as well.”
An older man, probably his minder appeared from behind him. I gave him a small nod and he stiffly returned it. Returning to the youth I held out my hand.
“Edwin Saker. That was me. Good to meet you.
“Alwin Cameron. Likewise.”
He took my hand and we shook. I now had a friend on this boat. Alwin was the third male scion of house Cameron. In short, he was two sons too many for the line of inheritance. His two elder brothers fought like cats for their fathers’ favor. Alwin was less interested in the inheritance, it was too distant for him care. Neither was ambition something that came to him naturally. Had he been born in the south he would have made a fine order knight. He was that curious mix of gentle natured and singularly bloody minded.
The journey was quick. It was a three-day trip over relatively gentle waters. Alwin was miserable over the side’s all the way. He was good company when he was not regurgitating his meals. Godfrey, his minder, was a dour man but he tolerated my presence. He was the housecarl unlucky enough to be assigned as Alwin’s token protection. I earnt his ire when I shared hard liquor with his charge. And teaching him how to gamble with knucklebones. Despite the camaraderie, I felt a knot in my gut when the familiar outline of Dusien appeared on the horizon. I needed to find Winston and try to get him back home.
Lord Cedric and company disembarked to a lot of cheering and fanfare. The five hundred odd rest of us were discreetly unloaded and marched out of town. We set up a little village of tents a few miles away on the plains surrounding Dusien. There the housecarls attempted to beat some order into the formless mass that we were. Leaders naturally arose and formed cliques. Oskar who had no interest beyond his pay and survival was naturally disinclined to take on such a role. He still had some authority foisted on him when I dragged Alwin and Godfrey to him. We became a band and he our leader. The closest continental equivalent would be a lance. The difference lies in the fact that we were grouped together by shared quarters not battlefield role. Though we did end up sticking through the fights as well.
There was a lot of grumbling in the camp. Freebooters are not soldiers. Most of the men disliked the enforced order of the camps. Nobody knew what we were doing other than that waiting. We were confined to the campgrounds. Day passes to the city were occasionally given to the more helpful band. The ones that kept the cleanest quarters, helped dig latrines, took watches as sentries. Oskar kept to the wisdom of never volunteering for anything. However, he occasionally acceded to my pestering. I think even he wanted to get out of the camp as well. What he did in Dusien I had no idea. The man’s private life was a mystery. As for me well… as much as I wanted to find Winston, I wanted to see Janie as well.
It was a happy coincidence when I spotted him lost on leave. His height and scars made him stick out like sore thumb. Despite being in a foreign city unable to make sense of the local language, he seemed quite sanguine about the whole experience. His looks attracted the attention of the occasional passing women who gave him little smiles. Winston oblivious returned them with good humor. He must have drove my sister mad more than once. He was with a friend who was taking the whole experience far less happily than he was. Thin, freckled, and downright weedy, he looked like a habitual worrier. I approached the pair to put them out of their situation.
“Still haven’t changed brother?”
My Isles speech cut through their predicament and both turned their heads towards me. Winston looked at me in confusion. I swear I could hear the wheels turning in his head as he slowly recognized me.
“Ed?”
“Yep.”
“Ed!”
“Oh no...”
I had forgotten his propensity for hugging people. And his rib shattering strength. It all came back to me in an instant.
“G-off m-e! H-lpf!”
“What are you doing here?”
Wheeze
“Oh… sorry.”
We took our reunion to a less public venue. Weedy whose name I soon learnt was called Osmund was dragged along with us. I took them to a coffee house. It had been a while since I had the chance to have any. Both of my lost wards were new to the whole institution. Winston just looked at me with blind admiration as I ordered our drinks. I was fluent Auburn. Both just sat there looking at me while we waited for our drinks to arrive. I was content with that. When three steaming cups were laid before us, I took my coffee black. Watching me take a sip they copied my motion. Their expressions were enough to tell me how they found the bitter brew. Tea was a luxury we rarely had at home, even on the continent it was a premium commodity. Coffee too was rare in the Isles, but in Auburn it had permeated the entire society. The beans were grown closer, thus greater availability. I ordered a helping of sugar and milk for my companions. Their eyes nearly popped from their head when they saw a cup of clear white sugar. Sufficiently diluting their drinks to individual tastes, I began the conversation.
“So, what brings you so far down south brother?”
“I came with the army. We’re here to free everybody. More importantly what are you doing here? Do you own this place?”
I raised an eyebrow at his guess and chuckled to myself. He hadn’t changed one bit.
“Yes. I have good business here. Pretty place isn’t it? “
Winston gave a very good impression of a fish out of water. I sighed.
“I don’t own the place. You pay after you are done here. I came with the army as well.”
“Oh... I see… Hm… Hilda’s doing well…”
“So, I noticed.”
He looked positively sheepish now. He knew I knew. I admit I dragged out the silence purely for my amusement.
“Thank you.”
“What?”
“Thank you for looking after her.”
What else could I say? He would probably do better by my family than I ever did. He just sat there giving me a disconcerting mix of fish mouth and puppy eyes. Osmund cleared his throat and squinted at me. He had weak eyes and was conscious about them. It made him terse and unsociable.
“Sorry but who are you?”
I turned to the freckled counterpart. Giving him one of Oskar’s all teeth smiles, I gave my reply.
“Edwin Saker. I could say the same for you.”
“The killer…”
Osmund unconsciously muttered the last part. Winston quickly elbowed him in the ribs and frowned at him.
“Lies. My brother would never do something like that. He was just driven away by the rumors.”
That made me feel a rare moment of shame. Should all the world turn against me, he would always be my brother. And by the look of things he may just well become it by law. I felt it a shame that I would never see him again if everything went well.
“Go home Winston. Go back to Hilda.”
“What? Where did that come from?”
“They don’t need you here. Do you see the Kaiser or the Reich here? The people of Auburn are happy with the way things are. They don’t need some hero to slay a dragon that never existed.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Look, we may be going to war. Can you honestly kill some poor bastard? By the dead gods, what will happen if you get hurt?”
“Hilda sent you didn’t she!”
That caught me off guard.
“Look, I’m here because it is the right thing to do. A people who do not assent to foreign rule should not have it forced upon them. I’m not a complete idiot like you think I am. I know this is a political game between them lords, but the effects are felt at home. Things are tight, pa’s shop isn’t doing too well. It’s not that bad right now but if things continue it will only get worse. We need to win here if we are going to have a future! Besides, I’m here already. It’s not like they are going to send one man home just because his younger brother said so.”
“Ah…”
“You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you with nothing to say.”
Winston shook his head and seemed to visible shave off the heat. He gave me a shy smile and I took his apology.
“I guess time spent with my sister has given you a sharper tongue.”
“Like you wouldn’t believe brother.”
“Alright, if I can’t send you back now, I’ll just have to make sure you get home safe by the end of all this.”
We finished our drinks and I had him list what he had prepared. It wasn’t impressive. Neither was Osmund’s state of readiness. Paying for our drinks, I prepared for a long day with a lot of money spent. I thought of it as my apology for my absence. Our first port of call was the cobblers.
It was well past noon when we were at our last stop. Winston and Osmund both held bags and boxes full of the essentials needed on campaign. We were at a weaponsmiths shop because neither had bought anything more deadly than a penknife with him. The pair both looked blankly at the weapons out on display.
“I would recommend a spear and a shield to go with it. I know I am picking up one.”
Osmund nodded at my advice and joined me to look at rack of them. Under the quiet auspices of the shop keep, I picked through the polearms with Osmund. Selecting a stout pair, I noticed that Winston was fixedly looking at something. I followed his gaze and saw the object of his attention. It was a sparth axe. A descendent of the northern great axe, it was a twohanded brute of a weapon. I agreed that it suited Winston perfectly. His height and broad shoulders would make terrible effect of the weapon. What concerned me was if he could make proper use of it. A shield would drastically increase his odds of survival. Then again if he were wheeling the dirty big weapon around, he would most likely be placed in the second line of a shield wall. There he could wield the terrible weapon over our heads.
“How much for the axe master smith?”
“Sixty écu.”
I barked a laugh. Winston and Osmund looked at each other confusion. They did not understand a thing that I said.
“For that? Twenty.”
“Get out of my shop.”
“Thirty-five for the axe and spears.”
“Fifty.”
“Forty.”
“Forty-five.”
“Forty-four”
“Fine. Done. You bleed me boy.”
“No more than you do the other customers.”
The man spat on the ground and I handed him forty-five schillings. After he counted my money, he raised a brow.
“That is for a whetstone and some oil.”
“Aye, your silver is good for it.”
He handed over a fresh stone and a flask of clear oil. Then held out his hand which I shook. My shillings were worth far more than the Auburn écu. I knew it and so did he. What I had spent over the charged amount went to buying his good will. The smith knew I was generous, not foolish. Should I need his services again he would give his best. Exiting the shop, I tossed the spears to Osmund and the axe to Winston.
“Take these back to camp. Oh, and find Oskar, tell him you are joining our band.”
“What about our old one?” asked Osmund.
“Where are you going?” said Winston.
“Quit it. Where am I going? Why I’ve kept a lady waiting by looking after you two. I believe I have left her unattended long enough.”
Leaving a flabbergasted pair, I left to make a long overdue visit.