--- Tolwin

After leaving the kid alone, Tolwin sighed. There was no way that poor soul could recover from such an experience just by sleeping a couple of days. As much as he wanted to help him, the priest had to wait for the little Roric to crawl back into the light on his own. Thankfully Guhrien was still far away, so they had a lot of time.

The man spent the next hour walking around the camp and checking that every soldier was alright. There had been several wounded in the brief skirmish with the bandits, but none of the mercenaries had returned in hopeless conditions. After treating them with his powers, the priest always tried to ensure they hadn't suffered any other kind of trauma, especially the younger ones. Contrary to the veterans, who weren’t new to the feeling of being cut or stabbed, they could even end up unable to fight again. For what Tolwin knew, most of the times the body could be repaired, but the mind was a different matter.

Lowan's company wasn't prone to heavy losses. Having both a very skilled commander and a seasoned priest, those mercenaries had racked up a lot of fame over the years. Depending on the strength of their opponents, they were considered everything between a pain in the neck and almost unbeatable, and there had even been some putting around rumours of supposed immortality among their ranks. Mortals or not, they were evidently a force to be reckoned with.

Tolwin finished his round of visits and headed towards the commander's pavilion, bringing his last report of the day. He waved at the man guarding the entrance and was allowed inside, where his old friend used to work, sleep and receive his visitors.

"I was expecting you earlier," a voice welcomed him. "Did something happen?"

Lowan was sitting at his table, in the middle of the room, filling out documents with a bored expression. A good part of his job revolved around papers, lots and lots of them. As the head of the company, in fact, he was required to oversee every step of the deals with their clients, and the priest didn't envy him in the slightest.

"Sorry if I'm late," he answered, closing the gap between them and grabbing an empty stool. "My round took a bit more time than usual. But I see you were able to keep yourself entertained, in my absence."

As he talked, Tolwin glanced at the reports that were spread out on Lowan's messy desk. He was preparing papers for the Duke of Guhrien, listing the discoveries made during the previous days and the outcome of their mission. His level of professionalism, in that field, was like none other.

"Makers, I'm so tired," said the other man, rubbing his eyes. "Let's have a drink, shall we? To another success."

The commander pushed the documents aside and poured some red wine into two goblets that were always ready for those kinds of occurrences. Tolwin took a sip, tasting the beverage, while his friend relaxed.

"So, what's the situation out there?"

"Everything is under control now," the priest explained. "Every injured has fully recovered, and starting tomorrow the company will be able to march faster."

Lowan smiled. "Great news, my friend. I'll give the order first thing in the morning. I can't wait to reach Guhrien."

Tolwin lifted his cup, spinning the liquid in a circle. He had been sitting on that stool many times, drinking fine wines and liquors along with the other man, and reporting to him on a daily basis. With their friendship spanning two full decades, it was no secret that the commander placed a great deal of trust in him, and took his opinion into account whenever the efficiency of the company was put into discussion.

"Now that I think about it," continued Lowan. "How's the kid? The one you found in those ruins?"

"Still shaken, I'm afraid. He must have been through a lot," replied Tolwin. "He doesn't really talk, for now. You probably want to know what he has seen, but it's too early."

The commander relaxed on his chair, and sighed.  

"Fair enough. When he's better, I'll speak to him personally. What happened, when, and what's his role in this story... Everything matters."

"You just want to put all of that into the report, to get a payed more for your thoroughness, do you?" observed the priest. "You know, I think you've been a bit too focused on your work lately."

"Coin is coin," replied Lowan. "We endured all these years because I’ve always paid my warriors. The old Duke will give us extra if the papers are detailed. It's as simple as that."

Tolwin nodded, standing up.

"I'm aware that you are doing it for the company," he said. "But I beg you to be patient, at least for a couple of days. That kid has suffered enough... You should know well what it means."

The other man lowered his gaze, suddenly lost in thought. The old priest didn't need any explanation on why.

"I'll keep it in mind," he concluded. "Now, where was I? Looks like I have another full night of work ahead of me. You can go."

Tolwin left with a slight bow, heading to his own tent.

***

--- Roric

When he finally gathered the courage to get out of the wagon, Roric was dazzled by the morning sun. Standing properly for the first time after days, he was amazed to find his body healthy and refreshed. He thought he’d need more rest to be able to walk again, but his legs were strangely overflowing with energy.

In spite of that, his mood hadn't improved much. The kid had spent a good portion of the previous night crying and his eyes were still red and sore. Looking at his own image reflected in a bucket of water, Roric resigned himself to the fact that something had changed in him. His gaze was empty, devoid of happiness, and he couldn't put up a smile no matter how he tried.

I'm alive, but I can't feel anything... Are all these people soldiers?

All around him, the mercenaries who had saved him were running left and right. They seemed efficient and disciplined, accustomed to manage their camp similarly to how the farmers of Spjaldir used to with their fields. There were some who were tasked with cooking and handing out the breakfast, others in charge of dismantling the tents and loading them on the wagons, and so on. Roric explored the place cautiously, trying to stay out of the way, receiving curious looks from time to time.

The priest made his appearance a couple of minutes later, bringing a bowl of hot stew for him. It had been a wile since  the child's last real meal, so he savored it like it was sent by the heavens. With the state he was in, even that poor dish was enough to lift his spirits a little bit. As he ate, Tolwin asked him if he was feeling better, but Roric quietly eluded the conversation by answering that he was alright.

What does this man expect from me? I don't even know where I am...

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"We’ll be on our way in a short while," continued the old man. "Once you've finished, hop on my wagon. You'll ride with me for now."

Roric thanked him with a silent nod and followed his instructions. The priest's cart was the only one that wasn't stuffed with stuff from the camp and was instead full of boxes and containers of many sizes. That piqued his interest so much that he couldn't resist the urge to ask Tolwin when he returned.

"What's in the back, mister?"

"There?" the man said. "Bandages, blankets, herbs... Everything a healer like me could use. You see, even if I have my magic I still have to rely on the normal methods."

"Magic?" inquired the kid. "I... I was always told that priests sent our prayers to the Gods. Are you a Mage, then?"

Tolwin laughed for a couple of seconds.

"No, not at all. The praying part is indeed correct but... We servants of the Light have some special powers of our own, as well. If you are lucky enough you might get to see them, but not now. Come, let’s get ready."

He climbed on the front seat and brought the wagon towards the others, leaving the campsite. The mercenaries then formed a long column, wide enough to fill the entire road, and began marching. As they walked, they engaged in light-hearted chatting, like they were on some kind of trivial stroll.

After many cloudy days the weather was finally clear, and being able to see the sun once again brought back a nice feeling. With all the things that had occurred in such a short time, Roric had almost forgotten the warm light and the gentle touch of the breeze. His life in Spjaldir seemed so distant, a memory from a long gone past that the child couldn't remember clearly.

He grabbed his necklace, trying to focus on something else.

***

A few boring hours passed. Where was the company headed? Roric had never traveled, so he could only guess that they were going East by the way the sun moved. Just to be sure, however, he decided to ask the person who was taking care of him, since he didn’t know anyone else there.

"Sir Tolwin," he began. "I'm sorry, but it's my first time outside the... The village. Where are we?"

The priest gave him a surprised look and answered, "You’ve… Never? Well, I guess it’s normal. We are about a hundred miles from where we found you. Our next stop is the capital of the Duchy."

The kid's eyes went wide open. "Guhrien? The city of granaries!"

"The one and only," said Tolwin, with a smile. "The Duke himself hired us, you know? Our payment is waiting there."

I've never thought about what kind of person the Lord of our lands could be. Should I keep asking about him? He is the one who told them to hunt those bandits down, after all, and...

All of a sudden Roric heard an approaching noise of hooves, and a shadow went past them. It belonged to a tall man, with a square jaw and a long, pointy moustache. He rode a mighty stallion, black as midnight, and some mounted guards followed him closely. One of them carried a standard.

Fairly grizzled, the horseman leading the small group was in his forties and his posture was martial, exactly like one would expect from an important military leader. As he proceeded along the column the soldiers stopped talking and cheered him with a roar.

"That's commander Lowan," explained the priest, adjusting his grip on the reins. "He is the leader of this company, and an old friend of mine."

Roric studied him intently. He had heard that name from Tolwin the day before, but seeing him in the flesh gave him a different vibe. The commander radiated an inexplicable something, an aura of strength and nobleness that captivated the heart, making the kid unable to avert his gaze until he disappeared in the distance.

"Is he a famous general?" he asked, without even thinking. "He looks like... A hero."

The priest laughed once more. "There are surely people who might say that. In fact, among the mercenaries he is very well respected. We are a rather prestigious company. Do you know how our job works?"

"My dad used to..." Roric stopped for a second, pushing back some painful memories. "To say that you sell yourselves to the rich people. Whoever pays the most gets to order you around."

"That's a bit simplistic..." answered the old man, then noticing the child's questioning expression. "I mean, it might appear that's all we do but trust me, the mercenary life is much more."

During the following hour or so, Tolwin illustrated the ways of those soldiers, clearing away the kid's doubts every time he needed to. For starters, it wasn't like all the men who served in the company had joined just for the money. Some of them were in fact moved by ideals and wanted to decide which causes were worth fighting for. The priest himself, to make an example, said he was on a mission to relieve others from their pain, whatever that meant.

As Roric found, there were some who wouldn't follow an order they deemed immoral, such as killing helpless people, not even with the promise of a payment. Those aspects of their lives, Tolwin continued, were largely unknown outside of the mercenary world and more often than not they were labeled simply as mere sellswords.

"However, the rumours aren't completely wrong," the priest concluded. "Sometimes it's not easy to make a living with this job. One must be willing to accept many compromises and... Makers, some people just aren't."

"Is it a good life, then?" asked the kid.

The old man smiled, gazing ahead.

"It depends. There are times when we have to make hard choices, while walking this path, the first one being... Well, leaving your past behind. But if you wish to live free, it might be one of the best ways."

***

It was past midday, so the company stopped for a brief break. Getting off the cart, Roric stretched his limbs while the priest tied the horses and another man watered them. Many campfires were quickly prepared and the mercenaries had a light lunch on the side of the road. The child ate his food in silence, glancing at them whenever he wasn't being seen. The way all those people shared their lives reminded him once again of the folks in his village, celebrating the end of the harvest. His heart skipped a beat, as he went through the memories of those happier times.

Only a few of days ago they were still all alive and well. I miss them so much...

He finished his meal, and kept watching as the men prepared to hit the road again. The priest began calling for him, saying it was time to get back to the wagon, but then he heartily greeted someone who was coming in that direction. When he turned around Roric spotted the commander, just a dozen meters from them, with his black horse in tow.

"A perfect day for traveling, isn't it?" he said, in a jovial tone. "I thought I would pass by to see if our young guest was better. How is he?"

His voice was strong and confident. The kid, like he had been once told to do with those of higher standing, knelt in front of the man and bowed his head.

"Can't you see by yourself?" exclaimed Tolwin. "He's fit as a fiddle. I hope you didn’t come to bother him."

The priest didn't address his superior like, well, a superior. Those men seemed more like friends meeting each other, instead. Roric guessed that the two had been together for many, many years.

"Rise, young one," ordered Lowan. "We don’t use this kind of formality here."

The child obeyed, studying him. His eyes were blue and sharp, giving his portrait a fairly intelligent look. Although he hadn't been directly asked, Roric thought it was appropriate to at least thank the commander for his help.

I am so nervous. What am I supposed to say?

"My Lord," he started, forcing his gaze to the ground once again, "My name is Roric, son of Redian. Thanks for saving me and letting me travel with your company."

Lowan got closer and spoke again. "I'm glad that you are alright. Tolwin told me of all the bad stuff that happened to you. Regarding this-"

"Don't pressure him," the priest stepped in. "Remember our talk?"

For a moment, he almost looked like a master striking the hand of his student. Despite looking a bit flustered by the interruption, however, the commander didn't get mad.

"I know, I know," he replied, all upset, then he addressed Roric with a gentler tone. "Young Roric, will you share the details of what happened with us, when you feel like it? It would be a great help."

From the way he was talking, he was definitely interested in that. The way his eyes pierced Roric, while making such a request, made the child feel like he was being questioned. For a second, he even wondered if that man would have just left him there, had his answer been negative. He swallowed hard, ready to cooperate.

"I... Yes," he babbled. "But I don't know if what I have to say would be that important."

"Don't be afraid," said Tolwin, without giving the other man a chance to speak. "The commander just needs this to make a report to the Duke. That’s all. He won’t force you."

"A... A report?"

"Mercenary contracts are very complicated. Every piece of information or news can be precious, especially from a direct witness."

"It can be worth some money," said Lowan, visibly irritated because he couldn't explain it himself. "I'll be in my pavilion every evening, waiting to hear your story. It will be the only thing I ask you as a payment for this trip."

"Yes, sir," Roric squealed, in his try to sound convincing. "I can do it. I will!"

The commander remained silent for a moment, then he turned around and went on his way. After he had gone, the child sighed of relief. He didn't feel ready to talk about the attack yet, but how could he avoid it, in front of such an imposing man?

"I've seen worse first impressions," said Tolwin, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry, he didn't wait for me to even mention this to you. I know it’s painful and so does he."

Forced to focus on his memories, the kid felt a lump in his throat. He gave the old man a weak affirmative nod, and returned to their wagon.