2. The Grey Mercenary
Year 3045, Southeastern Tracia.
The beast's head was proof enough that he had accomplished the mission. He considered dragging the remains of the body back to town to see if he could get some more gold, but he was lazy. The sooner he got out of that damned forest the better.
One of the things that bothered him most about Tracia was the enormity of the region. If you were unlucky, something simple like hunting a beast could take months. In this case, the mission specified that the target was some sort of Brown Bear that had awakened its life energy on the outskirts of the Leafy Woods.
As it turned out, the Bear out of control, killed two farming families but then wandered into the woods, in the direction of the Beastlands to the south. Grimshaw had no choice but to track it for a week, finding the beast more than eighty kilometers from where the attacks happened.
When he located it in the forest, it was still in berserker mode. The out-of-control Qi was making it unhinged, the Bear had ripped off parts of its fur, was salivating and snorting constantly in an attempt to lower its body temperature.
Witnessing the spectacle perched on the branch of an ash tree, he opted to use the short sword at his waist instead of the giant sword he carried on his back.
"If I use the two-handed sword there won't even be the beast's head left, this sword is more than enough" he convinced himself.
If he were honest, he would admit that he almost never allowed himself to use the two-handed sword in battle, even when the circumstances warranted it.
Externalizing his Qi, the atmosphere became heavy and the branch beneath his feet creaked, threatening to snap. Channeling Qi into the short sword, he leapt at the beast and used the Qi Charge Art (lvl.8).
Made to be applied to heavy, non-edged weapons, the sword blade impacted like a hammer on the beast's back and did not hold, instantly disintegrating along with a third of the Bear's body. The wild-eyed animal, in agony from the mortal wound inflicted, lashed out with a dying claw.
The mercenary, unarmed and still suspended in the air, could only cover himself with his arms. The right shoulder and chest plates of his armor were destroyed by the claws, and he was thrown back several meters.
***
"I've had enough of these hunting missions" he sighed as he left a MOC guild days later. At least it was comforting to have the pay in his hands. Literally one of the best moments in a mercenary's life.
He went straight for lodging at the first tavern that came along. He wanted to rest and he was going to have to change the bandages on the wound. About the damage to his plate armor he didn't even want to think about.
He walked a few blocks until he came upon a bar dedicated to passing travelers and off-duty soldiers. He rented one of the rooms on the second floor by paying in advance. Taking off his heavy armor, he let the scars of past battles breathe. Already bathed, he opted to go downstairs for a bite to eat.
It was in recent years that the Official Mercenaries of the Continent created a guild in Kuiland. This unremarkable fishing village got its name from a rushing river born south of Insubri. The Kui River acted as a natural border between northern Drakari and southeastern Tracia.
Apparently the clans in control of the areas bordering the river were in conflict so Kuiland and other villages were unprotected, with plenty of jobs on offer.
Grimshaw knew the other reason even if they didn't want to admit it: the Cyderall threat to the east. They had been expanding for decades and except for the north and east coast of the region, Insubri belonged to them. In the entire history of the Continent, there had never been such aggressive and effective growth.
Born in one of the Free People`s cities, he witnessed firsthand the power of Cyderall's army. Seventeen years later it was something that still haunted him. The two-handed weapon he carried was a constant reminder of that.
"It's none of my business what happens on the Continent anymore," he thought bitterly as he devoured a stew that the innkeeper, a fat man with a grim face, had prepared for him.
The place was almost empty, besides Grimshaw, there were only three soldiers at the bar going for their second round of beers. Nights like these he wondered what his life would be like if he had not missed, maybe he would still be fighting... at least, he would not lead a wandering and meaningless life.
Despite being dressed in simple clothes, he never took off the giant sword he carried on his back, it was the most precious object he had. Nor of the cloak with its distinctive gold official clasp, proof of his rank in the MOC.
Being part of the MOC brought him many benefits and few setbacks. With an ideal of political neutrality towards conflicts in general, the organization was dedicated to protecting those seeking a dignified life as mercenaries.
That didn't mean there weren't power struggles between the various factions or that sometimes they didn't get involved in political dramas on the Continent, but for someone like Grimshaw who wanted no part in any of that, he could be alone and at ease.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
He was already getting up from the table when he overheard an interesting conversation from the Terracottas who were drinking at the bar.
"... - I'm not lying to you, Cyderall attacked one of the Drakari ruins near the border" assured the fattest and scruffiest one, apparently trying to convince the others.
"Where did you get that from?" asked another with a chuckle. They found it hard to believe what their companion was saying.
"I returned today from our stronghold to the southeast... All day yesterday we restricted the access of merchants, artisans and civilians fleeing Drakari through the forests we share with Insubri north of here" he exclaimed in exasperation.
It had its effect, the laughter subsided giving way to looks of bewilderment between his two companions. The barkeeper who was serving at the bar frowned when he heard the last thing the soldier said. The atmosphere became more solemn, they were no longer simple inventions of a drunkard.
In Tracia, the fortresses of the Terracottas served as a line of defense and surveillance. Very numerous, they were distributed along the entire border and controlled the entry of people and goods from other regions.
Now with his companions more convinced of what he was recounting, the Terracotta continued.
"You know how much I dislike those Drakari beggars, their region is in ruins, their imperial clan eradicated and they pretend to come and live off our lands" he muttered indignantly and took a sip from the tankard of ale in his hands.
"Some were so desperate that they tried to cross the border directly across the Kui River.... instead of going through the woods they preferred the risk of being swept away by the current. On inquiring what was going on we were told that two Captains of Cyderall and a regiment attacked Libury."
Grimshaw, hearing this, approached the bar drawing the soldiers attention.
"Barkeep, the next round of ale is on me" he declared waving his hand and authoritatively addressed the soldier. "If you would be so kind, I want to know more about that attack on Libury."
The soldiers' first reaction to the muscular gray-haired stranger was one of distrust. Bandaged at the shoulders and carrying a two-handed sword despite dining, he did not help his intimidating presence.
But his invitation for a round put them in a good mood. The one who was speaking glanced sideways at him, seeing the blue hilt of the weapon sticking out behind, he swallowed nervously before replying.
"Uh...I don't know the motives for the attack. What we gathered from various sources is that the Captains of Cyderall were Urso "The Brute" and Laértes, “Lord of the Horses" he said, pausing to observe the gold clasp on Grimshaw's cloak. With reverence in his eyes, he acknowledged his occupation and rank.
Grimshaw nodded silently and waited for the man to continue. It was odd that they would attack Drakari and even more so that Cyderall would deploy two Captains.
Still, he would never have guessed what he told him next.
"The strangest thing about the situation was that many claimed to evacuate alive from Libury thanks to a woman with a giant shield who stood between the regiment and the town. Others while running claimed to see her confronting the Captains..." he paused as he watched the mercenary's face transform. A deep sadness followed instantly by anger.
"WHAT HAPPENED TO HER?!!! Someone should have seen!" he shouted as he pounded the bar with both fists scaring those present.
"... I don't know, they reported that Libury was occupied within hours by the regiment. Some heard large Qi explosions in the distance but all the civilians who evacuated were too far away to see what happened" the soldier replied as he looked warily at the mercenary..
It took Grimshaw a few long seconds to calm down. After so many years he had information from her again but it was news of the worst kind. The odds that another woman with a giant shield would face Cyderall were too low.
All three were Masters. He didn't know Emma's current level or how powerful those Captains really were but the prognosis was grim. A Cyderall regiment had at least five hundred Elites and one hundred Naturas, numbers that alone would eradicate several Masters.
"Emma... after all this time you're still fighting" he thought remorsefully.
"Thank you for the information" he said and to the relief of the soldiers, he left the bar heading for the room.
That night he couldn't sleep, with pain in his chest, memories of the four of them sharing afternoons in the training camps came back to him. Emma and Aremis laughing their heads off, Quentino giving him life advice. Young and with a bright future ahead of them.
So many years spent camouflaging guilt over what had happened with disinterest. Leading a wandering life and disregarding what was going on in his lands.
First thing in the morning he was going to clarify Libury's situation. He hoped that, perhaps, Emma, as one of the former leaders of the Resistance had some strategic value to be captured. Or better yet, that by some miracle she had managed to escape.
Grimshaw was unaware of what had happened to the vast majority of his former comrades. Several, like him, had completely disengaged from the fight. Others, unable to stop Cyderall's conquest, transformed themselves into shadows, seeking to go unnoticed.
His old friend Quentino was one of those ghosts, but he always knew where to find him...