44

Not Again

‘Wake up, dumbarse!’ She kicked the bundle of cloth on the ground. It grunted and shuffled in response.

‘Is this him?’

‘Yeah, it’s him. Our “second in command,” allegedly. Fucking wake up!’ She kicked it again. It grumbled, and a head popped out.

‘Whuuh?’ Ludgar coughed up something and shielded his eyes from the rising sun... or maybe setting. He couldn’t remember what time he finished drinking.

‘You useless drunk.’ Another kick and rolled Ludgar onto his back.

Ludgar flopped over, somewhat empty bottles rolling outwards into the street. Toulmonde leaned down to grab him by the collar, saw the state of his shirt, and thought better of it.

‘Whose blood is that?’

‘Uuh?’ He looked down at himself, noticing the vomit and blood, and sniffed a dry patch. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t think it’s mine.’ He noticed the men standing behind Toulmonde, looking like they’d rather be anywhere else. ‘Who’re they?’

Toulmonde looked back at the oaken coloured canine leading the men in overly crafted, pauldron-heavy armour, who gestured to her as if they were above introducing themselves to anyone.

‘They’re the Knights of the White Code, remember? Here to re-enforce the eastern front? You remember now?’

He did. He wished he didn’t, if only to see the look on their leader’s face.

The Knights of the White Code considered themselves arbiters of all that is good and holy and just and all nonsense like that. They would don their white-gold armour with blue trim, crafted from the purest of illumis ore, and set off into the world to vanquish all evil where it dwelt, all under the benevolent guidance of... some Evandian lord, somewhere. Ludgar didn’t know. He’d met so many at this point that they all blended into one. How can one man be expected to remember so many titles?

The only problem they have is that it’s hard to figure out what is evil or not in a world where everything is just different shades of evil.

Perhaps that was to their benefit, making it easier to focus on or ignore if and when required.

Then again, they must be good, because they say they are good. So, all who oppose them must be evil, because they oppose good. And whatever they go out and vanquish must be evil because they vanquish evil. If they were not evil, they would not be vanquished.

This has resulted in the chapter developing a serious sense of self-worth, a serious sense of purpose, and a serious ego to go with it. To Ludgar, they acted as though their code was of such noble persuasion that everyone must lay at their feet so as not to get dirt on immaculately polished boots. Some even did, although it didn’t end well. Illumis forged armour tended to be beyond heavy, and only the strongest of knights could don such. The price of being nigh impervious to damage.

Why they decided to join Evandis against the League, Ludgar had no idea. Perhaps money stops being the root of all evil if you offer enough.

The League of the Hundred did instigate the war, so that must have been enough justification for the chapter to join and make a nice bit of money on the side of fighting for a noble cause.

Now here they are, ready to earn some prestige, titles, honour, and coin. Mostly the last one.

‘Lieutenant Traviyr,’ one knight spoke out. A powerful white stallion by the name of Knight Mustang. He would have been a picture-perfect representation, complete with polished, layered, golden white armour, yet all of them were perfect representations. You had to be to enlist. Ludgar considered it until he found that they didn’t accept anyone without nobility. Then he found they swore an oath of sobriety for life, so fuck that anyway. ‘Must we fight with these honourless thugs?’

‘Because orders are orders, Knight Mustang. Believe me, I enjoy this as little as you do, but we have our mission. The best we can do is complete it as quickly as possible.’ Knight Lieutenant Traviyr looked down his nose at the ale smelling pile that Toulmonde was attempting to wake up.

‘We were crushing a clan of necromancers last month. Why have we been reduced to correcting some political dispute?’

‘If you wish for more unconventional action, I could request your detachment to Varnier’s chapter. I hear that the Sanrid Horde has been quite an issue as of late.’

‘Hmm.’ The knight wondered for a moment. ‘Perhaps not. I’m not much inclined for heat and sand.’

Toulmonde heaved Ludgar onto his feet, pulling his arm over her shoulder. He was never sure how to feel about being this close to her. Never knew if she was going to hug him or hit him.

‘Easy now,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a long ride ahead of us, and I don’t want you throwing up anywhere near me, got it?’.

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

‘I make no promises,’ he burbled in response.

‘Just so we’re clear, drunkard,’ the Knight lieutenant said, getting uncomfortably close. It was supposed to be intimidating, but Ludgar was too hungover for that. He hoped he didn’t smell as bad as he looked. ‘We don’t take orders from you. I’ve heard a lot about your outfit, and must say, I’m not impressed. The captain spoke highly of your leader, and of your prowess, but it’s going to take something far more to impress me. We’ll humour your battle strategies and decide if it’s salvageable or if it’s a lost cause.’

Ludgar’s head loosely aimed in the direction of Traviyr’s, trying to make eye contact while only managing around sixty percent of that, with the rest going for the remainder of his face.

‘As for now, go find something worthless to vomit on; perhaps your own tattered clothing would suffice. Then sober up; I don’t want to be fighting beside a man who can barely stand of his own accord. Are we clear?’

‘Crysta-’ A glob of something unidentifiable fell from Ludgar’s mouth right onto the knight’s embroidered cloth.

Toulmonde fell back into the couch, laughing hard enough that her drink almost emptied itself right onto the expensive furniture.

‘I’ve never seen someone make such a face before! You may as well have shit yourself then and there!’ She wiped a tear away and took a clumsy swig. ‘I’d never seen someone throw up on a Knight of the White Code before! He hated you so much!’

Even Sethel laughed. Well, maybe not. Actually, Ludgar had never heard Sethel laugh. His constant, slight smile did widen a little, so he counted it as a laugh.

Ludgar laughed too, although not nearly as much as Toulmonde. It felt like he couldn’t get drunk, no matter how much he drank. He hated it and kept trying, anyway. ‘I couldn’t tell if he was going to kill me or puke himself.’

‘I admit, you’re fun to be around, but a nightmare to work with!’ The drinks seemed to be getting the better of her, like she couldn’t even let Ludgar out-drink her. As far as unwinnable battles go, this was one of the big ones. Despite that, bottle after bottle kept being popped open, and subsequently emptied by two people.

Ludgar downed his drink, and Toulmonde did the same. Their hands met at the bottle, neither having any intention of relinquishing. The bottle had more than enough for two, but that wasn’t the point.

Their eyes met, and the flicker of a challenge flashed in both.

‘You want to go?’ Ludgar challenged.

‘You’re damn right I do,’ Toulmonde accepted.

She woke an unknown amount of time later, head pounding and pillow wet with either sweat or drool. She couldn’t decide which was more disgusting.

It had been quite some time since she drank like that. In fact, the last time was with Ludgar, and that was quite some time ago. Thinking about it, memories began pouring back in. Yes she remembered now, even through the tired haze of a hungover mind. Every time she drank with Ludgar, it always resulted in…

She looked to her right, eyes struggling with the dark. A shaggy mass was depressing the silken pillow, darker than even the candleless night.

She turned and held her hand to her throbbing forehead.

‘Oh fuck. Not again.’

‘Whuuh?’ Ludgar stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes. ‘What time is it?’ Was he hungover or just tired? No, it must be a hangover. With how much they drank, it couldn’t be anything else. By the gods, she wasn’t going to lose a drinking battle against him.

‘Still dark. Shouldn’t have drank that much. Now I’m hungover, and I’ve got a rebellion I need to sort out.’

‘Eh, save it for later. I doubt a bunch of self-indulgent artists are going to do anything soon.’

‘You’d think so, but by the sounds of it, they’re gearing up for something big.’ She turned and took a drink from a bedside pitcher. Ludgar always found she was always prepared like that.

‘Something big? Like what?’

‘Not sure. They haven’t actually done anything so far, so anything they do will look big by comparison.’

‘Yeah. I suppose anything can look big next to nothing.’

‘Wouldn’t you know.’

‘Shut up.’ He took her by the waist and pulled her back to bed, while she giggled on the way down. He held her close and kissed along her neck. She leaned back into it, smiling as she did so.

‘How do you know all this, anyway?’ he said, breaking away to speak.

She gave a sideways glance, and a cocked eyebrow of complete smug self-assurance. ‘I’ve got guys on the inside.’

‘Oh. You too?’

That took her by surprise. ‘Wait. You’ve got people on the inside?’

‘Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?’

‘Then why don’t you know any of this?’

‘I haven’t spoken to them.’

‘... Why?’

‘Well... I didn’t exactly plan any of this. I just kinda threw them in and hoped they’d sort it out themselves.’

She looked at him in a way that suggested he’d dropped a dagger and cut off several of his own toes. ‘How do you... Why did...’ She had many questions. They all felt insufficient. She settled on one. ‘How are you even still alive at this point?’

‘I, uh, don’t know.’

‘Every time I begin to think I understand you… Now, stop. I need to use the privvy.’

She rose from the bed and left Ludgar as he laid back, hands behind his head, feeling quite satisfied with himself.

‘You know,’ he said to her, as she put on a robe, ‘if you fought as well as you fucked, I’d owe you quite a lot right now.’

‘Shut up, idiot.’ She threw his trousers at him, and they landed square in the face.

The door closed with a creak, and Ludgar was alone in the commander’s bedroom. Pretty big as far as most fort bedrooms go, and well furnished. Most of the items here wouldn’t be out of place in a Baron’s home. A large chandelier built from brass, the candlelight struggling against the encroaching darkness, heavy oak dressers and wardrobes along the walls, and large, dark-green drapes that moved ever so slightly against the air.

Certainly nicer than what they had during the war. Then again, it was a nightmare to transport crap like this. End up being more trouble than it's worth. That’s why most mercs and soldiers never liked it when noblemen decide to join. You always end up being the one carrying the junk.

Like a sharpened knife slicing through meat, a chill ran through the room, giving Ludgar a slight shudder. The curtains fluttered against the heavy breeze, and he stood to close the window. He wondered how hot it had gotten through the night and tried to remember when Toulmonde had opened the window.

They got in, spent the night together, then she left for the privvy.

So when did she open it?

Three shadows loomed behind Ludgar, and the silvery light of reflected steel glinted in the darkness.

Then it occurred to him; she didn’t.