Cid and Jeanne had gone up to their quarters as Kveldulf stayed in the dining area, putting another bite of bread into his mouth before washing it down with a mouthful of ale. The place was quite, with everyone now back at their homes and lodgings. The faint smell from the spit behind the counter and from patrons’ burnt pipe weed still lingered in the air.
As his finished sipping his drink, he spotted Silvius coming down the stairs, still wearing his trousers and undershirt. “Still up?” Kveldulf asked Silvius as he arrived downstairs.
Silvius nodded. “Sadly. One of those wonderful evenings when alacrity gets the better of you.”
Kveldulf lifted his head up for a moment. “Alacrity?”
Silvius let out a soft groan. “I’m sorry,” he said, “when you have to work with those who feel their flatulence smells divine, you get into the habit of using fancy words to make them feel special.”
“Ah,” Kveldulf said, nodding. “I’ve met those type before. That’s why I prefer letting Cid handle such things.”
“Have you known the Felidan for long?”
“About ten years,” Kveldulf said. “Same with Jeanne. We were all in the same squad when she and I joined The Cold Company.”
“Cold Company?” Silvius said, with some surprise. “I heard a few stories about them.”
Kveldulf chuckled at the comment. “I can only imagine. I’ve heard a few of the colorful ones. And some of the not-so-colorful ones.”
“Most of what I heard came from my uncle, he was serving with Lord Oddone during The Siege of Sanio.”
Kveldulf grimaced. “I heard about that engagement, nasty affair. I barely missed that one by a few months.”
“My uncle said your people put more than five thousand civilians to the sword. Even the moat of the city was filled with the bodies of those who tried to escape the slaughter.”
“I won’t deny this profession comes with some uglier elements to it. And I heard from the survivors of that campaign the taking of the city was worse than many had experienced in their entire careers. Though it isn’t something they put in the songs when they recount such things to those unfamiliar with such matters.”
“I’m not certain how well I’d be in such a profession.”
“It’s not for the faint of heart. And it helps if you can stand the long marches.”
“I’d prefer searching within the confines of a library if it’s all the same,” Silvius replied.
“What brought you out here then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you don’t seem to be the type that wants to go out and seek adventures. No offence.”
“You’re not that off, if we’re being honest here. And Hypatia was always the one looking for a reason to dive into caves and or exploring some place that looked somewhat dangerous. I always preferred somewhere away from those places, usually with a reduced chance of someone or something try to kill and possible eat me.”
“Then why are you here then, if this isn’t something you want to do?”
Silvius hemmed and hawed a moment, pondering the thought before he seemed comfortable to speak. “Because no one else is.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been researching the history of the wars between the Allianna’s coalition during her wars against Callanband. And for the most part no one has been interested in this effort at all.”
“How come? I’d think this was a subject everyone and their mother would be on board for.”
“You would think that. But most tend to stay with the stories. What their parents told them, as they were told by their parents, and so on and so forth.”
“So wouldn’t that mean people still talk about and remember it?”
“They remember the story told to them. Not the truth of what happened. Stories change from telling to telling. Sometimes it’s a word or a name or a whole event. The story changes, the tale is no longer what it was as a history but something closer to a fable a parent tells a child before going to bed. Whatever lesson we can learn from the past is lost and has to be relearned again. Usually with as much if not more pain than before.”
“Hmm,” Kveldulf hummed. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Well, most people don’t need to worry about that. Farmers don’t need to remember the complicated web of history when sowing and harvesting. Neither do tailors, cobblers, blacksmiths, weavers, or the rest.”
“So who is this for then?”
“The people who need to remember. Those who decide whether or not fathers, mothers brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, cousins and all the rest go off and risk their lives for the glory of their culture. Or to regain common rights lost to them from simple ignorance.”
“Have you been working on this for long?”
“About two years on my own, and Hypatia has been helping me out for two more. And she’s been a gift from the gods since then.”
“Was that how you two met?”
“Oh no, we were in the same class at the university in Tonaslyon. Then she went off to finish her archivist training, we went are separate ways for a while until we ran into each other again on this project. Was surprised to learn she had taken up sword fighting during that time.”
“And what about you and your blade?”
“Oh, this, it was a gift of my father after getting accepted at the university. He thought it would be good to have something to defend myself, lest I get on the bad side of some pertinacious individual who wishes to draw blades.”
“The hell is pertinacious?” Kveldulf asked.
“Damn it, did it again,” Silivus said, smacking his forehead. “This is going to be a lot harder than I anticipated. It means someone particularly stubborn.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Did you learn how to use it?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t call myself a master of the blade. And I’d prefer talking myself out of a situation. But I’d like to think I can hold my own in a scrape.”
“Have you been in a fight before?”
“Nothing outside of sparring duels.”
“So … you’ve never had to kill.”
Silvius shook his head. “No, not really. I’m not terribly certain if I can.”
“You’d be surprised what you’ll do when you’re faced with certain death. Especially when things are crazy and someone is coming towards you with an axe, or sword, or some other implement of pain.”
“Still, I’ve considered myself lucky I haven’t had to end a life.”
“If we’re lucky, that trend will hold true,” Kveldulf said as he finished his drink and calmly rose from his seat. “But I think it’s time for me to turn in for the night. You have a good one, Silvius.”
“You do the same, Kel,” Silvius said. “Kel?” Silvius called out with some hesitation.
“Hmm?”
“When … when you took your first life, did it affect you?”
Kveldulf took a deep breath. “At the moment itself, no. But I felt a sick sensation in my stomach when we were back at camp, and I had time to think about it.”
“Do you think about them? The people you’ve killed?”
“Sometimes,” Kveldulf replied. “Though more of the ones in the beginning, if I’m being honest.”
Silvius nodded, turning to his clasped hands.
Kveldulf walked over and patted him on the shoulder. “Like I said, things go well, no one will need to getting anything a mother’s kiss can’t heal.”
“Let’s hope tomorrow is uneventful,” Silvius said giving Kveldulf a weak smile before the warrior went up the stairs to his lodgings for the night.
***
The sun rose filling Kveldulf’s room with a warm ambient light. Waking him slowly, he stretched his arms and neck as he rose from his bed. While throwing on his clothes he could hear the muffled chatter of the others down below. A smile grew on his face as he negotiated his way down stairs. Cid and Silvius were sharing fried bacon, bread, and butter together as Benkin sat nearby enjoying a cup of brewed coffee. Hypatia, Maeryn and Jeanne were seated together chatting amongst themselves amicably.
Kveldulf grabbed a plate of scrambled eggs and a wooden cup of coffee before making his way back to the others. Benkin spotted him, tilting his head up quickly. “Morning,” he said to Kel.
“Morning,” Kveldulf replied, “How was your night?”
“Not bad,” said Benkin. “First decent night’s sleep I’ve had in a long while.”
Kveldulf swallowed a bite of eggs before sipping his coffee. “That’s always good to hear.”
“Aye, it’s nice not to have someone look at you like you have a deadly plague or some curse or possession upon you, like those poor bastards of the White Horse.”
Kveldulf nodded, fighting the urge to grimace at hearing that house name. He was still not used to hearing it and found difficulty getting used to such things.
“I know someone who can handle both!” said Jeanne, reaching into a pocket before pulling out a golden rock and it in the air.
“What?” Benkin asked, thoroughly confused.
“Don’t mind her,” said Kveldulf, waving the comment off. “She’s being silly.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong!” Jeanne replied.
Kel shook his head and let out a incensed groan. “If I wasn’t friends with her.”
“I know that feeling well,” said Benkin chuckling.
“How long have you known this group?”
“For about four months, I think.”
“Did you know them from the university?”
“Sort of. It’s a tale I wish held more exciting twists and turns and a few side roads along the way. But mostly I ran into Hypatia when she was learning how to use her swords. Gave her a few pointers, sparred a lot to get her where she wanted to be, then one day she told me about Silvius’s venture and asked if I wanted to join them to help provide some protection. I didn’t have anything major on my plate, and I knew his family was good for the coin, so I joined up.”
“Wait, what about his family?”
“Oh his family comes from old, old money and they’re pretty much funding this entire thing on their own.”
“The university isn’t helping out?”
“Not really, it’s one of things where they won’t contribute to the success, but claim it all as theirs if things go well.”
“So, business as usual?”
“More or less, yeah.”
“How did the elf get involved?”
“Oh Maeryn, she and I used to be bodyguard for this rich noble a few years back. When Silvius and Hypatia were asking for me to tag along, I vouched for her and they gladly brought her in.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“What happened to the noble? Were they upset when you two left?”
“If he was, it wasn’t for long. He perturbed his king and then lost his head.”
“And you two didn’t have problems with that?”
“No, he stopped paying our fee, so we left him behind well before that went down.”
“Fair enough. So what role does she play for the group?”
“Oh, she’s our hunter and scout, mostly.”
“I guess the bow was a bit of a giveaway.”
“You know not all elves are skilled archers and hunters,” they heard Maeryn say from the other table.
“I keep forgetting about the hearing,” Kveldulf said aloud.
“I could write that down,” said Hypatia, reaching into her satchel.
“No,” Kveldulf insisted, “That’s not needed.”
“I am also good at throwing knives, for what it’s worth” Maeryn said proudly.
“Really?” Kel asked.
Maeryn nodded while twirling a small knife around her fingers. Kveldulf looked around the dining area. “What are you looking for?” Benkin asked.
“Something for her to throw that knife—” as the knife landed on the table, impaling a fly onto the point. Kel’s eyes widened as the blade hard on struck the wood. “Never mind.”
“I told you,” said Benkin leaning back, his arm crossed behind his head.
“Yes … yes you did,” said Kveldulf as he pulled the knife out after some effort.
As Kel returned to knife to Maeryn at the other table he noted two curved sword leaning next to Hypatia. Hypatia noticed him studying the blades, “You like them?”
“The sheaths look amazing, alone.”
She picked one up and handed it to Kveldulf. “Here, take a look.”
Kveldulf took the sword and unsheathed it with great care. The etchings along the length of the blade softly shone in the golden ambient light of the tavern. Gripping the handle tightly, Kveldulf felt an instinctual sensation in moving the blade. Performing some of the practice exercises his parents taught his when he was younger, he could hear the blade produce several notes. They mixed well together with a few rougher spots in the melody.
He thought of how his mother would have swung an entire epic poem without trying. A smile coming to him at the thought. “A sword-singer?” Kveldulf asked, handing the blade back to Hypatia. “My mother used to be one herself.”
“Really?” Hypatia asked surprised.
Kveldulf nodded. “She knew more than a few odes in her time.”
“I might know a few tunes myself if you’d like to hear one,” Hypatia said, taking the blade as she left her seat.
“By all means,” Kveldulf replied, taking his seat at back the table.
Stepping in to the open space of the tavern, she unsheathed both blades. The swords sweetly hummed as she held them firmly in her grip.
Hitting a stance, the swords began a harmonizing before she moved her body to create a calming adagio from the movement. Kveldulf could spot her creating passata sottos, ripostes, remise, parries and flunges, as the blades slashed and discerning musical notations with each movement. As she moved with increased speed, the notes began taking a quickened, graceful grace. The music now carrying a majestic sound of instruments touching everyone’s ears.
Everyone around her began stomping their feet and clapping their hands in time with the music. A heroic gusto and passion took them as Hypatia moved with such speed, the blades now blurs to one’s eye. The tune reached fiery zeal as it came to a vigorous climax. As Hypatia finished her dance, the music ended with a flourish and everyone impulsively her applauded for the performance.
“Thank you, thank you,” said Hypatia, taking a bow. “Make sure try the veal.”
The innkeeper chimed in. “We don’t have any veal here.”
Everyone turned to innkeeper who looked back at them all for a moment.
“Oh … oh! I got it, now. My mistake,” the innkeeper said before returning to their errands.
Kveldulf turned back to Hypatia. “I’m almost eager to hear what songs you’ll make when in the midst battle,” said Kveldulf.
“Be forewarned those performances will cost you,” said Hypatia, giving him a playful wink.
“Well,” said Cid, raising to feet, “I’m feeling ready to take on the whole world, and I think a few bandits are a good place to start, don’t you agree.”
“Lead on!” said Benkin, raising his dram as the others raised theirs in agreement.
***
Kveldulf adjusted his knee to a drier patch of the forest floor. The damp leaves and moss soaking the knee pressed against the earth. He could barely hear the rustling of leaves above them, as if the trees were trying to stay silent while he and others lingered. There was also an odd smell in the air which he couldn’t put his finger on, though he swore he had smelled it somewhere.
He looked out to the encampment out in a small clearing. Seeing several logs placed around the camp to form a loose circle. From what he could tell they had fallen from old age, than to an axe’s blade. The camp itself was uncomfortably quiet. Tents huddled tightly in a circle bedrolls ruffled with flaps thrown open as people had crawled out of them. All of this around a campfire with only a tepid pillar of smoke coming from smoldering of dying embers. Cid and Maeryn were at the front, Kveldulf, Benkin, and Jeanne positioned shortly behind, and Hypatia and Silvius at the rear, all of them using the brush to hide themselves.
Kveldulf turned his gaze up, surveying the tall trees around them. He tapped Benkin on the shoulder who leaned towards Kel. “What is it?” Benkin asked.
“You notice how quiet it is?”
Benkin looked around. “Aye, tis that.”
“What’s going on?” Jeanne whispered.
Kel touched his finger to his ear and then made a circular motion next to his head. Jeanne looked around lifted an eyebrow up. “Ah crap.”
Kveldulf slowly moved to Cid and Maeryn. Both turning their heads to him, but keeping their gaze on the camp.
“What’s the problem?” Cid asked him.
“I think we’re walking into a trap,” Kveldulf whispered.
“We are,” said Maeryn, carefully releasing tension on her bow string to point off towards the camp. “Three bandits out directly across from us, two more waiting directly to our right. And maybe another three or four to our left.”
“Is there anyone behind us?” Cid asked.
Maeryn lifted her ear up. “I don’t think so, no.”
“Hmm,” growled Cid.
“What’s the plan?” Kveldulf asked.
Cid squinted as he took a deep breath. He fitted onto his left hand a large buckler with a gauntlet fixed to the interior, a short spike protruding from the middle of the shield itself and a rectangular compartment situated just below Cid’s hand. “Stay here and wait for my signal.” Cid then began moving towards the camp.
Maeryn looked at Kveldulf stunned, “What is he doing?”
“Something risky and about two long steps into the kingdom of stupid,” he whispered as he turned back to Jeanne a gave a series of hand signals. She rolled her eyes and turned to the others further back and gave them their orders.
He turned back to Maeryn. “When I give you the signal, shoot whoever is the nearest threat to Cid.”
“All right?” she said confused.
“Trust me, they stand out.”
As Cid reached the center of the encampment, several individuals emerged from the woods. Kveldulf and Maeryn instinctively ducked down behind the brush, Kveldulf having some difficulty seeing past the foliage. “Maeryn,” Kveldulf said in barely a whisper, “what do your elf eyes see?”
Maeryn glared at Kveldulf. “A dead man,” she hissed.
“Can I ask what you’re actually hearing?”
Maeryn turned back to Cid, who was now speaking to an elven man standing half a head higher than the Felidan, said, “It’s a back and forth between them. Trading insults mostly, it’s a mess.”
“Sounds about right,” said Kveldulf, putting his hand on the hilt of his blade.
Cid seemed to be chatting amicably with the bandit as he lifted his left arm and in a swift motion, a blade from the compartment emerged and impaled itself deep into the elven man’s neck. Cid pulled back to catch a strike from a bandit rushing to strike as an arrow landed deep within their skull. As other outlaws emerged from the woods towards him, Kveldulf gave Maeryn, now notching another arrow, an approving nod before unsheathing his sword and charging into the fray.
He landed the edge of his blade deep into the torse of bandit as Jeanne, with a twirl of her wrist, launched a fireball, landing between two brigands, immolating them immediately. Covering her body in rock scales she lunged to a foe, knocking them down and pummeling them mercilessly as Hypatia engaged in a duel song with two enemies, a confident smile on her face as she performed a symphony with her foes.
She jumped to dodge a below and began twirling her blades rapidly. Listening to the music, Kveldulf felt a rejuvenation of his whole body. The fury of war filling his heart and the urge to leap into the thick of battle became his only lust in life. The bandits shirked away from Kveldulf and the others, the look of fear on their faces. Swinging their weapons wildly to try and swat their foes away, losing all form of martial prowess.
Kveldulf beheaded a man when he spotted Benkin and Silvius engaged several bandits, felling them swiftly. Benkin turned to Silvius, “How are we doing, professor?”
Silvius parried a blow and plunged his blade into the foe’s heart. He wiped the sweat from his brow and catching his breath as he replied, “Having a capital time. You?”
“It’s not a bad start,” Benkin said as he cleaved through a brigand’s torso, “but they’re not providing the best sport.”
“Perhaps you could register a complaint with their recruiter,” Silvius replied.
“Not the worst idea,” Benkin followed as he severed another bandit’s arm.
As the last bandit fell, the group looked around, catching their breaths as they looked around the camp site. Hypatia knelt near a chest as she called over to Maeryn, “Hey, did you bring those lockpicks with you?”
Maeryn checked a couple of her pockets. “I think so,” she said before moving next to her. Pulling out two little think elongated pieces of metal and began moving them inside the opening of the lock.
After a short period there was a sharp snap from the inside and removing one of the pieces saw it broken half way up.
“Well shit,” Maeryn said shaking her head.
Jeanne walked up, with a thin piece in her hand. “Here,” she said to Maeryn, “I had this made for some of the tougher bastards.”
Maeryn took the piece, with an expression of appreciation on her face. “Thank you,” she said, still in a daze.
“Not at all,” Jeanne said. “Got to look out for each other.”
Kveldulf saw Cid going over some papers, examining them quickly as he’s picking them up. “Seeing anything good?” Kveldulf asked.
“Nothing aside from miscellaneous missives.”
“Well maybe we’ll find something.”
“Let order make it so,” Cid replied. “Why don’t you check on the professor and Master Benkin to see how they’re doing.”
Kveldulf nodded and went over to the two men. Benkin was looking Silvius over before pulling out a roll of bandage wrappings. “Well, professor, I think this might leave a bit of a mark.”
Silvius let out a snort before he chuckled. “My mother is going to give me a talking to when she discovers this.”
“We’ll find something nice to give her to assuage her parental instincts.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“How are you two holding up?” Kveldulf asked them.
“Not bad,” Benkin replied. “A little scratch, but nothing to worry about.”
“Good, good,” Kveldulf said he turned back and felt a sudden vibration race through his feet. He turned to view deep into the woods and saw a large figure cloaked in shadow. It moved up and down, he wasn’t certain if this was a group of branches moving to the wind.
He heard Silvius ask, “Did anyone else feel that?”
Before he could answer he turned to another tree and saw the branches move back and forth. A gasp left his lips as a chill ran up his spine when he realized they were moving a different direction to what was in the shadows. Kveldulf turned to Cid and said, “We have company!” he as readied his blade to the figure.
This was followed by a guttural roar as the ground shook as a figure emerged from the woods. An ogre towering over the group, covered in broken pieces of metal, wood and giant bones over his body. In its hand was a large club lined with teeth from various animals. The ogre’s eyes were golden and red with a smile revealing his black teeth.
“Oh my,” said Silvius dimly.
“Well, that’s not good,” said Benkin, shaking his head.
“Well,” said Jeanne, “He’s a catch.”
“Flirt later, take the bastard down!” Cid ordered.
Maeryn loosed two arrows towards the ogre, one landing under its neck and the other ricocheting off the armor. Jeanne unleashed a barrage of fireballs towards the fiend. The creature waved away the flames, lifted a large wooden box with one hand and flung it towards Jeanne. Before she could leap out of the way, it struck her and sent her flying into the air before landing hard to the ground.
Kveldulf rushed over, helping her sit up as she weaved heavily before her wind returned to her. “You all right?” he asked.
“Fresh as a god damn daisy,” she groaned, grabbing her side.
Cid rushed over. “Jeanne!” he said worried.
“I’m fine,” she asserted. “You have any ideas?”
“I think if we take it’s legs out, that’ll at least keep it from moving,” Cid said to them.
Kveldulf wrapped Jeanne’s arm over his shoulders lifting her up. She winced in pain once back on her feet. “I want this shit’s head for this.”
“Get in line,” said Kveldulf, watching both Benkin and Silvius both sent flying with one swing of the ogre’s club.
Maeryn kept firing arrows as Hypatia cut deep into its legs with her blades. Hypatia tried to swing another song as the ogre lifted his foot and slammed his foot next to her, sending her flying away. The creature swung its club down, Hypatia barely missing the blow as she jumped to the side. Some of the teeth now flying as they were dislodged from the strike.
Cid, helping Benkin and Silvius to their feet, beckoned Kel and Jeanne over. “Jeanne, you go to Maeryn and keep it busy, the rest of us take its legs out,” he said to them.
“And after that?” Benkin asked, wiping a trickle of blood from his mouth.
“Stab the son of a bitch until he stops screaming,” Cid replied, “Now go!”
Jeanne raced to Maeryn, and soon they fired a barrage towards the ogre, who tried swatting the projectiles away with one hand. Kveldulf and Benkin reached the legs first, slashing the creature’s calcaneal tendon. It screamed in terrible pain as it feel to the earth, all of them now racing and plunging their blades between its armor as fast as they could until their muscles were burning in pain.
As the creature laid there motionless, they looked to find no one else to threaten them. They began wheezing, gripping their sides and leaning against whatever was left to lean on. “That …” Silvius said bowled over, “was most unpleasant.”
“Agreed,” said Benkin, ripping fabric from a nearby tent and making a sling out of it for his left arm.
“Is anyone seriously hurt?” Cid asked, stretching his neck out.
“I think I have a stich in my side and I lost my freshness,” said Hypatia, “But I’m all right.”
“I could use a fucking drink,” said Jeanne, sitting on an unbroken wooden crate and holding her left side tightly as her face contorted in pain.
“Same,” said Kveldulf, rotating his shoulder as he looked around the area.
“Is it too late to become a miller?” Maeryn, grabbing her waterskin and taking a sip.
“I think that ship came and …” as he spoke Kveldulf spotted two darkened figures within the woods from where they came, aiming something towards Maeryn. He raced towards her as fast as he could move, slamming into her hard as he felt two painful hits in his torso.