《The Life and Suffering of a Mercenary Captain》


 An Old Man and His Magic

    Deep in the mountains between two kingdoms lies a certain village of no more than one hundred villagers. On any other night most of the residents would be home, asleep, but not this night. Every year on this exact night, the residents would gather at the local tavern. The tavern was packed with children, who would normally be long asleep, and adults both men and women. The children, numbering not more than twenty, sat on the rough wooden floors in front of a hooded old man who sat in a creaking wooden rocking chair. Behind the tavern''s counter the swinging doors of the tavern''s kitchen burst open. A stocky woman with a beautifully plain face, brown eyes and a soft button nose and hair the color of a setting sun, swung her hips through the tavern doors. Her hands held a platter of ten steaming mugs each. The children cheered when they saw her and most of the adults sitting around the tavern chuckled at the children''s antics. The lady handed out steaming mugs of hot chocolate to all of the children.


    "How about some ale over here, Myrna!" Shouted one of the villagers sitting near the back of the tavern by the stairs leading to the guest rooms.


    "How about you go and soak your head, Gregor!" Myrna, the woman who handed out the hot chocolate to the children called back. "The children come first and you be knowing that."


    Everyone at the man''s table laughed at him and he flushed in embarrassment. Myrna turned to the hooded old man in the rocking chair and asked, "when are you going to start your tale tonight, Master Storyteller?" The Storyteller hummed to himself before answering. "When our visitors arrive, fair lady of the tavern." The Storyteller''s voice was hoarse with the notes of his old age shining though, but this did stop Myrna from blushing at his compliment. Then Myrna realized he had said the word visitors. Confused she asked more than said, "visitors?" As if to punctuate her question with an answer, the doors to the tavern burst open to the sound of two men having a fierce argument about directions.


    "Are you sure this is the right place, Rulph?" A giant burly man roughly seven and a half feet tall rumbled. The villagers eyes widened at his height, his big black bushy beard, short unkept hair, and deeply tanned skin reminded the villagers of stories about Barbarians from the north from the mountains between the two northern kingdoms. The man the giant spoke to, Rulph, chuckled in surprise. The residents of the village openly gawked at the two men, expressions of surprise plastered on their faces. No one has ever visited their town aside from the Storyteller. Being self sufficient they did not need to even trade with other villages, their location long been forgotten except by a chosen few. The villagers examined the man the giant spoke to, Rulph, who rubbed his smooth chin. He was slightly shorter than the giant, roughly under seven feet tall. He wore leather armor, much like the giant, though he was definitely on the fitter side of things. He had short blond hair that was kept nice and tight, a crooked nose most likely from being broken one too many times, and grey eyes that seem to pierce through all that they gazed upon. However, when they started examining the men''s armor, their eyes widened in surprise, chatter started up amongst all of the villagers. On the right shoulder pauldron of both men was an insignia of a red bear roaring at the full moon. These men were mercenaries and not just an mercenaries either! They belonged to the Raging Moon Mercenary Company! Even out in their small untouched village, the villagers have heard of the number one and most famous mercenary company in all of the lands! The man named Rulph spoke to his companion and everyone hung onto his words. "Has to be the right place, Frank. This is the spot The Witch had said he would be." He jerked his thumb behind him. "The Witch said ''find the village between two kingdoms in the mountain''s solace, untouched by war.'' The sigh in front of this quaint little place even said ''Two Kingdoms Inn and Tavern'' this has to be the right place."


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    "If you say so, boss" Frank, the burly giant replied, his eyes sweeping the tavern for threats. The two men stepped into the tavern, shutting the door behind them. One of the children, a little girl, started crying at the two men''s intrusion. Ignoring her, they looked around the tavern and spotted Mryna, who was holding now empty serving platters and marched right up to her. The little girl started crying louder now.


    "Excuse me, fair lady of the tavern," Rulph put on a broad smile and laid as much charm into his words as he could. "Might you know where we can find The Sage?" Mryna was like a deer frozen in the middle of the road, afraid of the sudden intrusion of both men. Hearing the little girl crying loudly snapped her out of it. She scooped the crying child into her arms and started cooing to her, trying to calm her down even as her face started turning red from anger. "How dare you!" She cried out, her face completely red from anger. "You come in here with your shouting and arguing, scaring the children and then have the nerve to ask about our guest? Hmph!"


    Rulph held his hands out in apology even as the easy going smile never left his face. "My apologies, good woman. We did not set out to scare anyone, least of all the children. We are simply looking for the one who can help us with our problem, The Sage."


    "I don''t know anything of this Sage of yours, but the Storyteller might know." Mryna said. Just as Rulph was about to enquire further, the hooded old man spoke up, his every word punctuated by the creaking of the old rocking chair. "If it is the Sage you seek, then have a seat young warriors. You may have come for the Sage, but you will not find him without this night''s tale."


    "Oh yeah? And what is tonight''s tale, Mister Storyteller?" Rulph challenged.


    "Tonight''s tale is the Strongest Mercenary In History, please, have a seat."


    "There are no more chairs."


    "Easily rectified and also a great way for me to begin this tale." The Storyteller clapped his hands and they began to glow a dull brown color. The wood floor behind the two men began to groan and squeak. Brown light enveloped the floor and when the light faded two sturdy chairs were left in its wake. The two mercenaries sat in the chairs the Storyteller conjured up, finding them surprisingly comfortable. Now that it is known the mercenaries provided no threat, Myrna set down the little girl who had been crying and went about serving ale to the rest of the tavern as the Storyteller began his tale.

 A Storyteller and His Magical Stories

    "Long ago in a time long forgotten by all but those who thirst for knowledge, there existed two mighty empires..." The Storyteller pushed his right hand forward and the green glow around it intensified before shooting green sparkles forward which assembled into a giant glowing map in the center of the room. Everyone in town was familiar with the shape of the continent, which looked like batter poured into a pan and unevenly spread, but no one was familiar with the two powers that divided the map unevenly between each other. Even those sitting close to the map, who could read the names of the two powers, found them to be utterly alien. And after a close examination of the map, they found some differences between the continent on the map and the ones on a map of today!


    The Storyteller continued on, his hands glowing a multitude of colors. With a wave the map changed to a realistic depiction of all the races of the world. Humans, dwarves, elves, lizardmen, and even the myriad kinds of beastmen walked around the room. The children giggled and tried to touch the magical depictions, but their hands went right through in a puff of sparkles. The Storyteller smiled a little under his hood and continued his tale.


    "The Great Empire of Unitas or ''Unity'' in today''s tongue, was an empire based on merit, the worth of one''s work you could say. An empire where commoners such as yourselves could rise to important positions based on the contributions you made to the empire. A peasant who managed to increase the yield of his crops by twofold or more could find himself in a position of power over the other farmers. A merchant who managed to open up a new trade route could find himself a minor noble. Everyone contributed to this great power in their own way." The Storyteller paused and took a long sip of his drink, coughing a little as he did so. Then he waved his left hand, which was glowing red and had little wisps of fire floating off of it. The illusion of the myriad races was changed and the room grew faintly hotter as a group of heavily armed humans pointed swords forward behind a group of all the non-human races who were wearing stranger collars. They were battling with the Unitas Empire on a grassy field.


    "On the other side of the continent, we have the other great empire, they simply called themselves, ''Dominion.''" The Storyteller paused and had a small fit of coughs. Myrna rushed over to him but he waved her off at the last second. "Dominion was a human-centric empire, meaning that humans absolutely ruled this empire and all others were seen as inferior and unfit to lead. Elves, Dwarves, and all other non-humans were relegated to little more than slaves. The most one could hope for was to be an overseer over their own kind." The Storyteller waved his hands again and the images slowly changed to many different battles. " For centuries these two great powers fought with each other, even in times of peace they still had skirmishes, each seeking to dominate the other. Perhaps eventually one of them might have broken the stalemate, but such were not the plans fate had in store. It only took a cunning man and a daring plot to bring both empire to their knees."


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    The image changed once again to an older man with sharp green eyes and silver hair. He had a slender build, but you could tell it wasn''t due to malnourishment, his body looked strong and fit. He wore fancy clothes of a merchant in a high position. Everyone in this room recognized this man. "Yes, all of you should be able to recognize Laurent of Ravensholm. The man single-handedly responsible for the creation of the Mercantile Kingdom of Dinus." The image in the room changed again to the map, but this time there was a third power and in the bottom right was a burgeoning slice of land starting to push it''s way into the Dominion. "This is where historians argue about what happened, this was after all an intense period of conflict that shook and changed the very foundations of this land."


    The map changed again and now there were exactly four kingdoms spread across the four corners of the land. Everyone finally recognized the map, it was the same one posted everywhere in the world. The Storyteller shook as he coughed again, he took a long drink out of his mug and then wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "This is the land you know, Leoras. And here are the kingdoms of today..." Each one highlighted in turn when he spoke about them. The Holy Empire of Liberated Peoples in the top left of the continent, it had a similar symbol to the old Empire of Unity that everyone just learned about. A fist emblazoned with a halo above it. It also had more landmass in its borders than the other three kingdoms. In the top right was a sword and shield with a ring wrapped around both, the Knighthood of Saint Brune. Despite the name, it is a kingdom ruled by a royal family of humans, a land where non-humans may only ascend to lower positions in society and one wrong step lands you as a slave.


    In the bottom left was the Mercantile Kingdom of Dinus and the Storyteller paused the magic when it highlighted this kingdom in particular. The map zoomed in on the kingdom until it took up all the space in the image. The symbol of a golden crown encrusted with red rubies was the official emblem of this particular kingdom. Simple, but powerful in its message. "Allow me to explain, the plot of a man so cunning it split the two empires into four kingdoms. Though by this point in history, Laurent has long passed, his mark remains. The creation of the first known mercenary..."

 The First Mercenary and A Deal

    The Storyteller chanted in an unknown language, his voice taking on an eerie, ethereal echo, as the tavern itself began to change and shift. The walls expanded outward until the tavern was at least twice its usual size and even the d¨¦cor and furniture changed. The chairs and tables began to smooth out with small fanciful carvings on them, the wood grains changing to a rich mahogany-like color. The bar counter elongated and several casks appeared stacked to the side of it. The carpets and drapers changed as well, making the tavern seem more fit for upper-class citizens and those well-to-do. The children stared in awe as ghostly apparitions of patrons and tavern workers appeared and walked through them harmlessly. Most of the children giggled and laughed when an apparition walked through them claiming it tickled. The little girl that was crying before when the two mercenaries, who stood in a corner trying not to let their jaws hit the floor, tugged on the old man''s robe.


    "Mister Storyteller," she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Are they ghosts? I''m scared."


    The old man chuckled and rubbed her head, mussing her hair. "Hahaha nonsense little one. They are just people from the past made from my magic. They can''t hurt you."


    "Okay." The little girl, a little distrusting, gave him and all the apparitions a little side-eye. A small pout could be seen on her face. In the center of the room, a small table and chair rose out of the ground and another apparition appeared, though this apparition seemed more real than all the rest in the tavern. Despite all the comings and goings in the tavern, this particular figure sat at the table alone, head hanging and his face firmly buried in a tankard of some sort of alcohol, though it was anyone''s guess what particular type.


    "Who''s this sad gob?" One of the villagers said as he drained the beer from his tankard. "Couldn''t be sadder than me, just finished me first beer and seein'' as how we isn''t in our regular tavern, not a drop more to drink I reckon." As if to illustrate his point, he turned his tankard over and not a single drop fell out. He shook it a few times for good measure before turning it back over.


    "Woah!" He exclaimed. The tankard was full to the brim with more alcohol. He eyed it with much suspicion before shrugging and knocking it back. He wasn''t going to turn down free beer, magically suspicious or not.


    The doors to the tavern swung open with a crash and two giant men in full plate armor with no insignia walked in and surveyed the tavern. They move to the side after deciding it was safe and another man of average height dressed in yellow finery with ornate rings adorning his hands casually strolled into the tavern. All of the patrons stopped to gawk at the richly dressed man. His hair was a bright yellow with streaks of silver running through it. It was slick backed, but by no means did it shout anything other than extremely dignified at the world around it. His nose was sharp, accenting a face that was just showing the signs of age with a wrinkle here and there. A small crease formed on his brow as his piercingly green eyes swept the tavern as if searching for someone or something.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.The moment he laid eye on the lone man drinking at the center of the tavern by himself, his entire demeanor changed. The frown disappeared and his eyes lit up in excitement or perhaps anticipation. He briskly walked over to the man, his gait full of grace despite its speed.


    "Well, well," the wealthy man smiled. His eyes looking at the man as if he were an entire chest of free gold. "What ever could have driven Leopold of House Arnst to find answers at the bottom of bottle in such a...tasteful place as this?"


    "That house does not exist anymore," the man named Leopold replied, "go away merchant, there is nothing for you here."


    "Now, now do not be so hasty my friend. Allow me to introduce myself, if I may." The wealthy man bowed a quarter of the way down, a sign of respect. "I am Laurent von Ravensholm and I have searched high and low for you. I have come to offer you the deal of a lifetime." Laurent smiled, but it was more akin to a devil''s smile than anything friendly.


    The scene vanished and the tavern returned to its original state in the blink of an eye. The Mercenary Rulph stepped forward toward the center of the now small tavern, approximately to where the two men were in the scene.


    "And what of the deal, Storyteller?" He asked.


    "A private affair away from prying eyes and ears, I am afraid. No one knows what he offered to Leopold, first of the Mercenaries, but everyone knows the battles that followed." The Storyteller replied. "But we are not here tonight for that. I have a much more different tale to be told, though it would not have its flavor had I not gone through the very abbreviated version of historical events first." The Storyteller muttered, "if only I had the time to tell the entire history of the four kingdoms..."


    Rulph shuddered when he heard the Storyteller''s mutterings. A real snooze fest that history lesson would have been. He was about to ask what the real story of tonight was when the Storyteller preempted him, as if he already knew what he was about to ask.


    "Sit down mercenary captain." The Storyteller glanced at the room. "Tonight, I will be telling the tale of the strongest mercenary in history." He paused to let his words sink in. Then he coughed and took a sip of his drink. "From the very beginning."


    Murmers and muttering sounded throughout the tavern, even the children were enthusiastic. Everyone leaned forward to catch it all. No one had ever heard of the tale from the beginning. His deeds of valor and defeat, conquest and failure, strength of arms and strength of heart were legendary tales well known by all. Even Rulph shut his mouth and paid more attention.


    The Storyteller chanted another spell, casting a glow over the tavern before it all changed into the busy scene of a market square. Then he began his tale. "In a town both forgotten and long destroyed by the fires of war, there was a bakery stall and a boy..."

 A Boy and A Loaf of Bread

    A young body with short mess hair the color of sand slowly crept toward a baker''s stall in the busy marketplace of a small city. He looked around warily to see if anyone was watching him, but no one paid the young boy any mind as they hurried about the marketplace with their own goods.


    As he crept closer, he could hear the sound of the baker and a middle aged man haggling over the price of a cake. It seemed the man wanted to purchase the cake for a celebration, but the thought the baker''s asking price was too high. Not that it mattered to the boy, his eyes were on the prize. A freshly baked loaf of bread, just sitting on the edge of the baker''s stall.


    The man who was arguing with the baker happened to glance to the side and saw him. The corner of his mouth that was pointed to the boy lifted just a little and he started furiously arguing with the baker. The boy smiled, it seemed his luck was pretty good today, even the man had enough of the baker''s prices it would seem. He sidled right up to the stall and very slowly reached up. His hand grasped the edge of the loaf, it squeezed inward softly as he held it. Then he brought it down and slowly started creeping away.


    "Hey, isn''t that loaf of bread yours?" He could hear the man asking the baker after he managed a dozen steps.


    "What?!" The baker whirled around with a surprising amount of dexterity for a man of such girth as he. "Guards! Guards! A Thief! That boy has taken my bread!"


    A pair of guards lounging around the marketplace heard the baker and the boy was frozen in fear as they they turned and saw him, evidence in hand. The boy sheepishly waved at them and offered a small smirk before dashing away into the crowd. The guards ran after him, swords in hand.


    "Stop, thief! Return the loaf and you will not be harmed!" They shouted. The boy knew better to stop in this city, he grew up here after all. He knew what happened to thieves they caught, regardless of age. After all, this was Markus, a small city in the Merchant Kingdom of Dinus.


    Here, money held all of the power. Wanted to assassinate someone? No one would pay any mind if you greased enough palms. You could even buy the throne. That one hasn''t happened in a century though. No, he would not stop for the guards here.


    He skidded to a halt as a new set of guards appeared on the path ahead. Citizens scrambled out of the way as they marched down the road, swords drawn. It appears the baker had enough money to mobilize the guards. He could not have foreseen this much over a loaf of bread that was merely a couple silvers!


    He looked around frantically before seeing an alley off to his left. It looked clear enough. He scrambled into it, almost tripping over some rubbish laid out in front of it. He placed his hand on the slimy, lichen-covered wall and sprung off of it to keep his balance. Then he booked it down the alley, running as fast as his legs can take him.


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    He almost made it to the end when he heard the clanking footsteps of the guards in their full armor marching toward the alley. He looked behind him and saw the guards from the main road beginning to enter the alley from where he came. He looked around and saw a small drainage pipe bolted into the side of the building.


    "Huh, guess I have no choice." He said to himself. His voice was that of a boy changing into a teen. Still a small squeak to it, but it was beginning to deepen. "I hope that pipe can hold my weight..."


    He jumped onto it, grasping with both hands, it creaked ominously for a second, and then he let out a sigh of relief as nothing untoward happened. He climbed up the pipe as fast as he could, it was almost like a mad scramble. With each movement up he could hear the pipe groaning, it really wasn''t meant to carry the weight of an adolescent. He reached the top and climbed onto the roof, just in time as the pipe collapsed into the alley, hitting several guardsmen below.


    "He''s on the roof!"


    "Mobilize the other guard!"


    "He''s getting away!"


    "Call the mercenaries!"


    Various shouts and cries from the guardsmen reached the young boy''s ears. Mercenaries? Not good. If the guard had to pay mercenaries to catch him, he was good as dead. He''d seen a company of mercenaries blow into town once. They literally flew in on a tornado one of their mages conjured up from another city.


    They were hired for a capture or kill order on the leader of the local thieves guild. They killed him of course. It was always easier to capture a corpse than to keep a person alive. That night he entire thieves guild was wiped out, sans himself of course. He never belonged to the thieves guild, he just wanted to fill his hungry belly. He had grown up on the streets without the memory of a parent, his oldest memory was getting kicked out of the orphanage when he was "old enough" to fend for himself at the tender age of five.


    He hurried across the rooftops. The guards wouldn''t be able to mobilize anyone quick enough to chase him across the rooftops, of course if they used tracking magic then he would be screwed. He eyed a rooftop one street over from the hovel he called home. Rule number one of stealing, never stop in front of your own home, that''s a good way to get yourself caught.


    He stopped at the edge of the roof, he knew it well. There were a series of bricks sticking out of the walls of the two buildings that created the name of this alley. Stutterstep Alley it was called by pretty much everyone who lived in what was quickly turning into the slums. He quickly leapt from brick to brick, landing on each one by the narrowest of margins. As soon as he hit the street level he scrambled through an open window and quickly ran through what used to be a small warehouse. It didn''t take him long to shuffle through old broken crates and shattered bottles long since drained of their contents.


    He busted through the front door and slammed straight into a man wearing a leather cuirass with metal studs bolted all over it. He looked up at the hulking man who has a curiously shaped scar across his right cheek.


    "I think that''s far enough, boy." The man had a deep voice with a bit of a brogue accent to it. But that was all he got as the man cocked a fist back and slammed it into his face. Soon after the world went dark, but he heard one last remark.


    "You think this scrawny kid will do?"

 A Boy and His Choice

    In the center of Markus City stood an overly large and ornate building that could have been mistaken for a church except for one simple detail.


    On the doors of the building were the words Town Hall. In the Dinus Kingdom, town halls served as a place of multiple purposes.


    It had your administrative section, which housed the mayor and his assistants. The mercantile section, which housed arguably the most important part of the building; the Merchants Guild.


    Here the Head Merchant labored to make deals with all of the other cities that benefited Markus City and might one day see him or her a promotion to a bigger city. Lastly, and no less important, the judiciary section.


    The judiciary section of the town hall was the largest, in part being home to the local guard which had an attached barracks and training yard. It also housed the local court and the current judge in the city.


    Not worth mentioning was the city jail, located underneath guard barracks. It was deemed the safest place to hold criminals, after all, who in their right mind would try to break into or out of the guards'' home?


    It was on this sunny day in particular, when temperatures were most uncomfortable, that court was in session.


    At the judge''s bench was an old man not younger than sixty years in appearance. His regal robes of dark red hung off his bony frame. His wrinkled face and sunken eyes gave rise to the appearance of a man who lived for his work, instead of living for his life. What hair he had left upon his head adorned the sides of it in small wisps instead of atop it.


    A younger, middle-aged assistant with a headful of brown hair sat to his right. The judge slammed his gavel against the counter top and the assistant cried out.


    "All rise, court is now in session. One Trevon of Markus to be tried and judged by His Honorable, Judge Linley von Markus!"


    "You may sit now, except you, criminal. You may stay standing." The judge said, frowning as he looked upon the criminal before him. The man was naught skin and bones with ratty clothing that barely hung upon his frame.


    Perhaps he had seen better days, but if he had, they were long gone. The man''s dull brown eyes stared at the floor, listless and bereft of any hope. Just a man who is accepting of his fate and any judgement rendered thereafter.


    "Mister Trevon, it says here you have been found guilty of the crime of theft of one..." the judge looked at the paper before him really hard, squinting almost. "the theft of one bunch of bananas, how do you plead?"


    He leaned over his desk at the man in question, giving him a rather overly large frown.


    "G-g-guilty, Your Honor." The man stuttered, his voice broken with as much hope as his eyes held.


    "So quick to admit guilt." The judge replied. "You could lie through your teeth right now, why do you not do so? Many others before you tried."


    "I am a dead man, Your Honor. I was seen by a dozen or more sir. It would not do to lie." The man said.


    "I see. Well, since you were so quick to admit your guilt, I too, will be quick to administer your judgement."


    The judge straightened his robes and banged his gavel against the counter again. "Trevon of Markus, you have been, by your own admission, found guilty of the crime of theft. Normally such a sentence here, would be the death penalty. But, seeing as you quickly admitted your guilt and saved us hours of work, I sentence you ten years in the salt mines. Court dismissed!"


    The man was led away, a little more life in his step but not by much. The judge sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a hand across his mostly bald head.


    He turned to his assistant, "John, how long until the next case? It''s unbearably hot in here, you would think that they would get some water mage to cool the courthouse off."


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    "I agree, sir." John nodded. "Your next case is also a theft, a young boy of no more than twelve years who stole a loaf of bread from Henry the Baker during a sale in the marketplace. It seems he evaded the guards and was captured by a visiting Mercenary Company...the uh..." John shuffled some papers until he found the correct one. "Ah, yes here. The Mercenary Company...Dancing Deklans?"


    "Ah, that Mercenary Company?" The judge sighed. "May the gods have mercy on that young boy, but chances are they will not."


    ------


    The young boy in question awoke to the sounds of water dripping somewhere, echoing harshly in his ears. He groaned as he opened his eyes, the light from a window off to his left stabbing into his eyes.


    The first thing the boy noticed was the stone ceiling above him. This was definitely not where he wanted to be. He sighed and groaned as he sat up. One of his eyes felt swollen and he couldn''t really see too well out of it. He felt is before hissing and jerking his hand away.


    It was definitely swollen and most likely going to turn into a black eye.


    He looked around him, there was a small window with bars across it in the shape of a half circle at the back of his cell near the ceiling and a heavily reinforced door with a metal plate across the center of it in front of him.


    Most definitely a jail cell. There was a silver lining however, a plate of food was left for him in front of the door. He got up and started moving to the plate and he was just about to reach it when the rattling of chains and a sudden jerk backwards stopped him.


    It was then he just noticed that his feet were manacled to a long chain built into the wall underneath the window. He sighed again. Great, no food now either. His stomach rumbled and a pang of hunger hit him.


    He hoped something would happen soon, otherwise he would just go to sleep like he always did.


    The door rattled and he scrambled away from it. As it was opening he heard voices.


    "No, you two stay out here. What''s a punk brat like him going to do against me?"


    "He might get a lucky shot in. You know as well as we do that is sometimes all it takes on the battlefield."


    "You might be right, but that just makes my decision extra correct."


    "''Extra correct''? Are you hearing yourself, Captain?"


    "You two are staying out here, and that is final!"


    The door opened all the way and the mercenary that knocked him unconscious entered. Even as he kept scrambling away he got a good eyeful of the man.


    The mercenary captain was a good six and a half feet tall with a body built like a wagon. His barrel chest and broad shoulders screamed "physical prowess here!" and the armor covering his body seemed to barely contain him, judging by the way it bulged in several places.


    His face was adorned with many small scars and he had a large one running through an eye covered with a patch. His other blue eye had an intense energy to it as it gazed straight at him as if to run him through like a sword.


    His face had roughly shaved, but still good looking. He had a regular mop of brown hair upon his head and a small smile across his lips.


    "So, kid. We meet again." The large man dropped straight to the floor and sat there in front of him. "You got a name, kid? Or am I going to be calling you kid for the rest of your short life?"


    "It''s Gavaine." Gavaine hmphed and looked away. He did not know what this mercenary was here for, but it was probably nothing good.


    "Gavaine huh." The man scratched his head. "For what it''s worth, the name''s Argus, kid."


    "Hey!" Gavaine exclaimed. "I thought you weren''t going to call me a kid?"


    Argus laughed, it was booming and could be heard even out on the training grounds through the window. "That''s rich. You''re kid, so I''m gonna call you a kid." And just as suddenly the man got serious. His laugh cutout like water through a tap.


    A grim smile etched itself on his face. "Listen kid, you''ve got two options. You can join my mercenary company, we''ll train you. Teach you to fight. Then throw you in the grinder. You might live, you might die. Or, you can take your chances with the judge. From what I hear, he''s no different to the young or the old and it''s late in the day. Chances are he''ll sentence you to death, or the salt mines. Just as good as a death sentence to a young kid like you.


    Gavaine watched the man speak. He had learned to read people. It was a survival trick he picked up on the streets. Everything the man said either came from a genuine place, or he was the best liar Gavaine had ever seen.


    Despite that he knew the captain was right. If he stayed it was for sure a death sentence. No one survived the salt mines, at least not the criminals. They did not hand any protective equipment to criminals. You would be lucky to still have lungs by the end of the year, much less the end of ten.


    "And if I accept?" Gavaine was curious. He was a street rat, but he ran with no guilds. Still, it paid to know all of his options.


    "Smart kid, I wouldn''t trust the first offer thrown at me either." Argus said. "Still, here''s my offer. You get this plate of food and then we haul you off to our camp outside the city. We will train you to fight, and if you''re lucky, perhaps you''ll learn magic. If you''re compatible that is. You have one year. If you''re not ready in a year, then it sucks to be you when we throw you at the grinder. Still, that''s better than the city will offer you."


    Gavaine mulled it over for a few minutes. It really was a no-brainer. At least he would have somewhere to belong and a constant supply of food if he joined up. His belly rumbled again, the smell of the food by the door helping him pick his decision that much quicker. "All right, I''ll join. Not like this place has any meaning to me anyway..."


    "Excellent!" Argus laughed, then tossed the plate of food which landed perfectly in front of Gavaine. "Eat up kid. Your training starts as soon as we exit that door."

 A Mercenary and A Merchant

    Gavaine took the offered platter of food from Argus. It was the best food he''d ever had in his life. Of course, it was only halfway through the meal when he realized something was wrong.


    His eyelids started getting heavier and his thoughts and actions were numb, sluggish even.


    "What the..." He mumbled shortly before falling unconscious. The last sensation he felt was someone hefting him up like a sack of flour.


    Argus hefted Gavaine over his shoulder as easily as lifting a sack of potatoes. Enhanced strength did wonders for things like this.


    "I see it went well as always boss." A voice to his left said as soon as he left the prison cell.


    A woman in a black dress that clung to her body stood there, staff in hand.


    The black dress highlighted her long auburn hair which framed a heart shaped face.


    Curious green eyes stared at Agnus.


    "Yes, it seems we now have another mouth to feed." A rather droll voice came from his right. A man with short jet black hair leaned against the brick wall, twirling a knife between his fingers.


    He had a hawkish face with deep set eyes the color of the sea. Despite the rogueish outfit, his face would be unforgettable the moment you saw it.


    Both the man and the woman were slender, but fit, and both held a subservient attitude towards Argus that bordered on worship.


    "Mmmgh. Let''s move out. We''ve been away from the company for too long." Argus simply said. "Besides, I hate this city. Who sells a bunch of bananas for two gold? Damn merchants."


    He stopped his way out of the guard barracks and waved off a couple of guards.


    "Sir Mercenary, you can''t take that boy with you. He must stand trial " A different guard wearing an embossed chest plate and a shoulder patch with two horizontal lines on it stopped them.


    "Outta the way before this gets ugly," Argus growled.


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    "As Lieutenant of the Guard, I must ask that you return the criminal to his cell." The Guard Lieutenant insisted.


    "He''s paid for. Now stand back." Argus said. "If I have to burn down this shithole of a town where bananas and bread are twenty times the usual price, I will."


    "Now, now Argus, that is most definitely not necessary." A new voice said. "Lieutenant, stand down."


    "Err, yes! Captain! Sir!" He Guard Lieutenant saluted.


    A man wearing fully embossed armor with gold and fur lining matches up with a a shorter fat merchant sweating beside him.


    "Lucius Flannergy, Captain of the Guard." The man in armor held a hand out. Argus shook it. "The man with me is the merchant who paid for this criminal''s capture."


    Argus looked down on the merchant, towering over him even as he examined him. He was dressed in the latest fashion, that is to say in ostentatious, unbreathable clothes.


    Typical.


    "Tch." Argus spat. "And you, merchant, what do you want?"


    The Merchant''s voice came out high and squeaky, like a child''s, but with the inflection of a grown man. "Err I say, Mr Mercenary, that boy must stand trial for my loaf of bread! Eighteen silvers! An outrageous sum!"


    "Hoo." Argus glared. "Anna, take care of the merchant. You, Captain, you will forget we were here, or my right hand man will make you forget. You do not want that."


    The woman from earlier stepped forward and the merchant''s eyes bulged out of his head as if trying to run away. "No, no, no what''s a loaf of bread? Mere pocket change! No need to involve The Manslayer in this is there? If you will excuse me, I will be on my way! Good day to you!"


    The merchant ran off as fast as his short legs could carry him. The Guard Captain sighed and held his hands up.


    "No merchant, no problem. All right Argus, I will inform the judge he has one less case to worry about. Last time though, you hear?"


    "Yeah, yeah. Stuff it in your ears. Don''t worry your shiny little head. We''ll be away from the city tomorrow."


    "Where are you headed?"


    "We picked up a bunch of..new recruits to replenish our ranks after that action last month. We''re going to the redoubt to train up the new batch."


    "Ah, Hell Season again is it? Best of luck wrangling this one. Gave the city trouble for years."


    "Yes, we heard tell of a most troublesome criminal who could not be caught. Partly why we''re here."


    "And the other?"


    "Resupply."


    "Ah, yes. Well, I must be on my way. Have to chase that merchant down and get him to fill out some forms. I swear the city can not go one incident without a backlog of thirty or so to fill out."


    Argus and his two lieutenants parted ways with the captain and made their way through the city. At some point Anna and her hawkish companion parted ways with Argus to run an errand.


    It took a little less than an hour for Argus to reach the company camp. Dozens of tents filled a small field about a kilometer and a half from the city.


    Men wrestled each other in contests of strength, while women gossiped in the corners, their eyes upon the men.


    The talking, fighting, and general levels of activity stopped as Argus made his way through the camp. He reached a small group of tents at the outskirts of the camp.


    The tents were poorly erected, denoting either a lazy attitude, or just a lack of skill.


    "Hjaldr, front and center!" Argus shouted. A man came out of the middle tent, which was a little more put together than the tents around it. "Got you some more fresh meat, I promise this one''ll definitely be entertaining."


    The man named Hjaldr grinned. "More entertaining you say? Ha! I hope he gives me more trouble than the rest of the newbies."


    "Don''t worry, you''ll have all the time in the world to train our little thief here."


    "Ah, so a kid was the criminal eh? Hehehe nothing a well placed boot can''t solve I say!" Hjaldraughed, a crazy grin spread across his face. "So...when can I start?"


    "Tomorrow." Argus said. "Tomorrow we march. He''ll keep pace, but make sure not to break him."


    "Ha! Break a new toy? Wouldn''t dream of it!"


    Argus unceremoniously dumped Gavaine to the ground in front of Hjaldr. Then he marched away. Tomorrow there will be pain and suffering. But for today he just needed a damned drink. Fucking merchants.

 A Boy and A Boot

    Gavaine awoke slowly to the sounds of a rumbling wagon, marching, and sporadic chatter. It was late evening, but that didn''t stop him from being groggy and unaware of his surroundings.


    "Finally, awake huh?" A gruff voice said. "Excellent, we begin your training now!"


    A boot smashed into his body and his eyes shot open as the pain jumpstarted his adrenaline. In that moment between when the boot smashed into him and falling off the cart, he saw his tormentor.


    A sticky dwarf with a bald head and thick black beard grinned at him. His brown eyes were almost hidden by his equally bushy eyebrow.


    "Good luck keeping up with the march kid. See if you survive it, if not, oh well. Hahaha"


    The booming laughter of the dwarf faded as the cart rapidly gained distance on him.


    Years of city living kicked in at the last moment and Gavaine twisted his body, using the momentum he hit the ground with to spring to his feet.


    It was at this moment he realized he wasn''t wearing the same clothes as in the city. He was in a brand new brown tunic with green breeches. New boots adorned his feet. He kicked the ground, nice and sturdy.


    It was all he had time for as the sounds of marching got closer. He turned around and realized men and women of all shapes and sizes marching in small groups of six.


    They all wore the same patch. A Deklan, a sort of six-legged dear with no antlers, prancing between two trees. He knew of this mercenary company.


    The Dancing Deklans were renowned for getting the job done at any cost. The large man who fed him the laces food...he must have been Argus the Indomitable, Captain of the entire company!


    Gavaine celebrated a little inside, but it died down quickly when he realized his predicament. Sure, he''d voluntarily joined the company, but he heard of their gruelling training.


    Only a third of their new recruits ever make it through. The infamous Hell Season they called it. They subject you to the worst treatment and if you make it out the other side, then you''re in.


    Gavaine started running at a good pace towards the wagon in the distance in front of him. His legs might be short, but he definitely has the stamina to keep up!


    His thoughts kept gravitating towards his new life. Sure, it beat stealing in the city, where he could get caught and sentenced any time. However, this...really wasn''t much better by comparison.


    He accomplished the dream of all young boys, joining a mercenary company, but at what cost?


    Lost in his thoughts, he wasn''t as aware of his surroundings and almost crashed into another boy. This boy wore clothes on the finger side of things, as far as outdoor clothing was concerned.


    "Be aware of where you step." The boy said without so much as looking behind. Gavaine jogged forward a little bit and came up beside the other boy.


    "Marcus de Santelia, well formerly." The boy introduced himself. Gavaine check him out.


    Marcus had chocolate colored hair that was nearly trimmed and laid back. A rather aristocratic looking face with a Romanesque nose and blue eyes. He was maybe a couple of inches taller.


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    His clothes were definitely expensive outdoor. He was probably a rich kid.


    "Gavaine." Gavaine replied.


    "Ah, a peasant. How quaint." The rich kid said. "Though, being the third son of a Viscount, I cannot state that I am much better. It was either this or pushing paper at some gods forbidden corner of the kingdom."


    "Pushing paper?" Gavaine asked.


    "Yes. Taking up positions behind a desk and filling forms all day as some lowly functionary to a higher born noble. What ever did you think I had meant?" Marcus explained.


    "Dunno. Never really had time for studies." Gavaine said.


    "Ah, a street rat. Well that explains your rather...uneducated manner of speaking." Marcus said, though his face was neutral. "Well out with it. How old are you?"


    "About twelve, I think?" Gavaine never bothered to count the years outside the orphanage.


    "Heavens, you are practically a child!" Marcus exclaimed. "I am going to be fifteen this year. A full adult here in the Dinas Kingdom. Not that it even means much."


    "Wadda ya mean?" Gavaine casually slipped back into a manner of street slang.


    "If you must know, every child who turns fifteen must undergo a coming of age trial, at least here in the Dinas Kingdom." Marcus sniffed. "Yes, even a peasant of no background such as yourself must submit for one. It is an age old tradition handed down since the founding."


    There was a pregnant pause as both boys slowed down to catch their breath. They looked around to find the mercenary company marching ever onwards. The wagon in which Gavaine fell from was far in the distance.


    "Hmph. The sun will be setting in a couple of hours. These fools would be wise to break for camp." Marcus said.


    "Somehow, I don''t think we will be stopping to camp." Gavaine replied.


    "What makes you say such a thing?" Marcus asked.


    "The last thing that dwarf said before booting me off the wagon was something about surviving the march..." Gavaine tried to recall what was said to him exactly, but it slipped his mind.


    "Of course. That means Hell Season started the moment we broke camp back at the city." Marcus said. "It will be extraordinarily difficult to survive Hell Season on one''s own. Tell you what...Gavaine was it?"


    Gavaine nodded.


    "How about you and I form a partnership of sorts. We agree to help each other out, at least until Hell Season is over. If you find it difficult or even impossible to continue our partnership afterwards, no hard feelings" Marcus offered. Gavaine thought about it. It wasn''t a bad deal, not by any measure.


    If he accepted this deal, he''d have a lower member of the nobility as a partner for the time being. He had no reason not to accept, and let''s face it. He was absolutely clueless about the world and anything outside of Markus City.


    "Alright, you''ve yourself a deal!" Gavaine shook Marcus''s hand and they both took off running again. This day would mark one of the most important events later in history, but for today? It was just the beginning of hell for the two boys...

 Two Boys and A Campfire (Part One)

    It was already well into the night before both Markus and Gavaine stopped marching. All around them were the sounds of the company breaking out tents and starting campfires.


    "Judging by the moon and the stars, we are about six hours from dawn. Give or take." Marcus said. He began unloading his own pack. Though Gavaine had no idea where it came from, as he didn''t see it on Marcus while they were marching.


    "Storage ring, very expensive, but it was a parting gift from my father." Marcus held up his right hand and a small silver ring with some sort of gemstone insert gleamed in the moonlight. "It has just enough space to store camping gear and a few days supply. It acts more like an emergency stash than a real storage space."


    "That''s so cool." Gavaine''s eyes gleamed as he stared at the ring. He had never even heard of a storage ring until now. Downside of being a poor orphan who turned street rat to survive. He had no education and most certainly lacked in worldly knowledge.


    "Where do I get one of those?" Gavaine asked.


    "Nowhere unless you have several thousands of gold lying around." Marcus replied. "Besides, this is just one of the smallest you can get. The larger capacity rings start at auction for tens of thousands of gold."


    By this point in the conversation, Marcus had set up a tent. Gavaine had found some sticks in their immediate area. Marcus shook his head.


    "We will never get a proper fire going with those measly twigs." He said. Then he pulled a few logs and some stone from his storage ring. It was like magic to Gavaine, who watched the items seemingly appear out of thin air. "Here, help me with this. We will get a proper fire going in a few minutes."


    Both boys arranged the stones, which were as large as a fully grown man''s head, in a circle on some grassless ground. Marcus then showed Gavaine how to arrange the firewood in crisscrossing X patterns.


    "You''re really good at this Marcus! Where''d you learn how?" Gavaine asked.


    "When you grow up in a noble family, it is expected to learn survival skills as part of your education. After all, you never know where you might end up years later." Marcus replied. "Okay stand back."


    Gavaine moved back a few feet and Marcus crouched down next to the unlit camp fire.


    "O flames of the wilds, hear my call. Heed my will and set my path ablaze!" Marcus chanted and small flames spouted from his hands, lighting the firewood. Soon it became warm enough to ward off the chilly night air.


    "Woah! Was that magic!" Gavaine shouted with excitement.


    "Calm down before you make a scene. And yes, that was magic," Marcus sighed before shaking his head. "I can only do minor fire incantations. Have you never had a magic aptitude test?"


    Gavaine shook his head. "I got kicked out of the orphanage when I was eight. I can''t read or write either."


    "My gods!" Marcus shouted. "Basic education is free in the Dinus Kingdom! How did you never receive any?!"


    "Street rats don''t get an educa-- edu--ed...ju...cay..shun" Gavaine had trouble pronouncing the word. He smiled sadly. "Street rats like me either join the guild or learn to steal. They stamped out the guild when I first started roaming the streets."


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    "No matter, the mercenary company will ensure you receive a basic education in all things." Marcus stated as a matter of fact. "Every mercenary company does this, else they would have no recruits except those wealthy enough to afford an education, like myself."


    "That makes sense." Gavaine nodded. "I hope I can survive this march. Even though being a mercenary is dangerous, it''s still better than being a street rat."


    "Why not share your time as a street rat with me?" Marcus changed the subject. "We should get to know each other a little better. After all, we are partners until we reach the redoubt. And perhaps even beyond that, gods willing."


    "Okay!" Gavaine said. He was just happy to share his story with someone. No one had ever asked him about it before.


    "Uh...I grew up in the only orphanage in Markus City." Gavaine said. "There were twenty kids and three adults to take care of us all. I don''t really miss it."


    "Why is that?" Marcus asked.


    "Well, it''s not like they beat us or anything, but they didn''t really do anything with us unless it was time for food or bed. And there was this one kid. I can''t remember his name, but all the other kids looked up to him." Gavaine scratched his head. "We got into a fight one day over some toy and from then on none of the other kids liked me. Eventually after awhile the adults kicked me out, saying they didn''t have money to spare to feed me."


    "It is very obvious that these adults considered that child to be their golden goose so to speak." Marcus said.


    "What do you mean?" Gavaine asked confused.


    "Think about it, Gavaine. That boy had the entire orphanage wrapped around his finger. All of the children naturally gravitated towards him and listened to whatever he said, right?"


    "Uh...yeah."


    "That meant the adults did not have to spend time wrangling the children. They just had to tell that boy what they wanted and everyone naturally listened. Then you came along. You both wanted to play with the same toy. You disrupted the natural order. You see where I am going with this?"


    "I guess, yeah." Gavaine was a bit unhappy. He recognized that Marcus was right, but that didn''t mean he had to agree with it. Although that fight seemed a life time ago, he still didn''t think the boy should have monopolized a single toy by himself. Sharing is caring after all.


    "Still, it does not make it right. To toss a child on the street over a mere toy. Their finances must have been tighter than they were letting on." Marcus said. "Still, I cannot fault them. Not with the Lord of Markus''s tax. scheme. While it is not illegal, it is heavily frowned upon."


    "What do you mean? What tax scheme? What''s a tax anyways." Gavaine asked.


    "Ah, yes. A street rat would not know what a tax is." Marcus sniffed, his noble side clearly showing. "A tax is something you pay on top of what you pay for a good or service. It goes directly to your lord and finances the kingdom. Markus City is a bit of a special example of taxes. The lord thinks he can buy his way into a higher title, so he has raised taxes to almost five hundred percent of the normal value."


    "For instance, bread normally costs a few coppers, even with tax thrown in. In Markus City, bread costs a couple silvers. Normal every day expenses increased to the point that just to live there for a day now costs a gold piece." Marcus explained.


    "But if everything cost a gold piece a day, then how is anyone living there?" Gavaine was confused.


    "Ah, well I heard about your little run in with Captain Argus. Did you notice how many guards were chasing you? Just for a loaf of bread?" Marcus said. "There is a bounty system in place by the lord. Whoever catches a currently wanted criminal gets a small portion of the bounty reward. That merchant you stole from put up a bounty of no less than ten gold pieces. Whoever caught you got two gold pieces. Why do you think the Thieves Guild got stamped out as soon as the bounty system was put in place?"


    For Gavaine, who had opted not to join the Thieves Guild, it dawned on him. An expression of shock slid over his face as he realized how narrowly he avoided execution by going it alone. He had heard the Thieves Guild members were executed to the last man.


    "Of course, this sort of system is unsustainable. If the lord is not careful, he will soon find himself at the mercy of the crown instead of a higher station." Marcus tended to the fire. Gavaine sat there in companionable silence for a while, thinking about everything Marcus told him.


    "What''s your story? Why''re you here?" Gavaine asked.


    "Mine?" Marcus said, "Mine is a story common to nobles. Born the third son of Viscount, there was no ascending to my father''s position. I have two older brothers who are much farther than me on the path to power. So it was either this, serving under one of them for the rest of my life, or casting away my family name and starting anew."


    Gavaine stared at Marcus intently.


    "Fine, I concede." Marcus laughed. "My tale begins a week before we reached Markus City."

 A Tale of Intrigue and Departure

    Marcus awoke to the early morning light streaming into his bedchamber. A knocking sound at his door shocked him awake.


    "Young master Marcus, are you awake?" A muffled voice from the other side of the door asked.


    "Yes. I am awake. Please come in, Jeevs." Marcus yawned as he stretched, his joints popping and cracking from inactivity while he slept. The heavy oak door groaned as it swung inward, an older gentleman in a black suit and bowtie entered.


    His bald head was only accompanied by his magnificent grey mustache. The grace with which he bowed towards Marcus after entering spoke of the wisdom, experience, and age he accumulated through his years serving the Aristocratic Family Santelia.


    Marcus glanced around his room as Jeevs got his outfit for the day ready. It wasn''t the most lavishly decorated room, but everything in it spoke of wealth. From his poster bed with silk sheets to his Astra Wood table and chairs.


    Even the rug was made of Badger Bear fur. He shuddered to think of how many losses it took to take down a den of Badger Bears for the rug. Every den could have anywhere from six to nine of the things.


    "Still thinking about the rug, young master?" Jeevs asked. Marcus blinked and realized he had been staring at the rug for too long.


    "My apologies, Jeevs." Marcus turned to the outfit laid out on the bed. "I was just thinking about how many men it must have taken to clear out a den of those things."


    "An apology is hardly necessary, young master." Jeevs straightened his cuffs and collar. "Your father hired only the best of mercenaries in Santelia. I heard they took no losses and only had one man in critical condition."


    "Ah." Marcus clicked his tongue. "I see father went to outrageous lengths to acquire that rug."


    "Only the best for the young master." Jeevs bowed. "Please don today''s outfit. It seems you have a meeting with your father this morning."


    Marcus blanched at that. Meetings with his father were always a hassle. Despite being called the lord''s favored child, of which he scoffed at, it seems his father was no less strict with him than he was with his brothers.


    "Come now, young master." Jeevs said after seeing Marcus''s expression. "It is not entirely for the worse. It would seem today''s topic is about where you might be posted after your coming-of-age ceremony."


    "Ah. Perhaps it would indeed be fitting to dress for the occasion." Marcus glanced at the outfit in question. It was of course, nice formalwear. A black suit with golden trim and a white undershirt to wear with black breeches. He of course had his formal footwear to wear with it, but chose his comfortable boots, black of course, to wear with it. "If I have to be in this stuffy outfit, my feet might as well be comfortable."


    "Of course, young master. Wait one moment while I adjust your outfit." Jeevs said as he bent down to tie off Marcus''s breeches just above his ankle. It was of course to hide the fact that he was even wearing boots in the first place. No one would be able to tell he was wearing boots just from the front and bottoms, so with a little bit of effort it would look like even his shoes were formal.


    Marcus stood in front the dressing mirror and examined his outfit. Presentable. Certainly not the best, but it didn''t have to be. It wasn''t as if he were meeting with higher nobility. His father just had a greater sense of propriety and noble etiquette than he did. Shrugging, Marcus started heading out of his room, but paused when he got to the door. He took a look around and sighed.


    "Is something the matter, young master?" Jeevs asked.


    "For some reason, I just feel like this will be the last day I spend in this room." Marcus furrowed his brow. "Come along Jeevs, must be one of those days."


    "Your father requested some other tasks of me, young master." Jeevs bowed. "My apologies, but you will have to make your way to his study on your own."


    "Nothing to apologize for Jeevs." Marcus waved his hand lazily in a gesture of dismissal. He made his way down the hallway, his boots echoing loudly off the stone. Various paintings of the family decorated the halls tastefully. Daylight streamed through the windows of the hall, half illuminating him as the sun was still beginning its morning climb through the sky.


    "Hmm, I can get to father''s office sooner if I cut through the sitting room." Marcus muttered, he paused and looked out the window. "It is an hour or so after sun rise. My brothers must be having their morning tea in the sitting room. Ever the conspirators those two. Still, it is the fastest route."


    Having made up his mind, Marcus continued his walk. He entered the kitchens where the chefs were busy cleaning up the remains of breakfast. He snagged a piece of toast to munch on as he made his way out of the kitchen and through the dining room.


    The dining room was lavishly furnaced and an elongated oval shaped table dominated the center of the room. Currently there were twelve chairs spaced evenly around it, but it could be increased to twenty-four in a pinch.


    It was all better than the Astra Wood the furniture in his room was made of, but then again, this area frequently saw guests. Only present your best to visitors, lest they think poorly of you as a host and in character, That''s what his father always said anyways. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    At the far end of the dining room was the hall to the sitting room and beyond that, his father''s study. The other side of the hall led to the main entrance and several more halls until he reached his own chambers. Truly a longer route through the castle.


    As he was approaching the sitting room, he could hear his brothers having an animated talk. He crept right up to the door and place his ear against it.


    "I do think our brother is about to have his coming of age ceremony, George!" His brother Geoff said. Geoff, and George were twins born about four years earlier than he. They happened to be visiting when ordinarily they would be managing their father''s holdings in the Deep Weald.


    "Ah, yes. It is a terrible shame." George replied with fake sympathy. "A shame that his posting will be delegated to us brothers to figure out that is!" Both brothers began laughing as if it was the funniest thing they ever heard. Marcus, on the other hand, was mortified.


    He never really got along with the twins and they in turn antagonized him every chance they got. It had gotten worse after their mother had passed from a disease that had gotten out of hand in the region a decade ago. But this was a step too far.


    Marcus entered the room, a carefully crafted neutral expression on his face. His brothers turned to face him.


    "Ah, there you are Marcus! Father is expecting you!" George said with some glee on his face.


    "Has been for hours, according to what we heard!" Geoff added.


    "Better get in there before he gets any angrier!" They both said in unison, a nasty grin on their faces. Marcus shook his head at their antics. They were just trying to get a rise out of him. He of course, did not let it get under his skin.


    He strode to the door leading to his father''s study and knocked on it three times. A muffled voice from within called out and said, "Enter."


    Opening the heavy door he was greeted with his father''s spacious and well decorated study. There were shelves filled with histories, reference books, and treatise on tactics. His fathers desk occupied nearly a quarter of the room by itself. It was made of an extremely sturdy wood called Metalwood. It looked exactly like wood but had the sturdiness of steel.


    The desk itself had room for at least three reference books opened end to end and still be able to write. All manner of writing implements were contained in special holders within arms reach of the studios scholar.


    As Marcus shut the door to the study, he realized his father was not alone. A man who towered over his father in height alone was also in the room. As the man turned to face him, Marcus gasped. His face was covered in many scars and his frame was so huge that even his own armor didn''t fit him correctly in some places.


    "So, this the twerp, Alfonse?" The man asked his father. His voice was deep and rough. The result of over-abusing his vocals cords for a long period of time. You could probably sand down a plank of wood with his voice if you really tried.


    "Hmm, quite. My problematic son." His father replied. Also turning to face Marcus. "Come, stand front an center, Marcus."


    And Marcus obeyed. One did not question their father. As he stood in front of them both he realized just how different they were. His father was tall and slim, his suit tailored to perfection. The gold-rimmed glasses and sharp nose on his face as well as the wisdom in his brown eyes belied the manner of man who had never stepped foot on the battlefield.


    Still one would only think that had they just met him. Marcus knew better. His father had led many a sortie against would be bandit kings and small patches of rebels who had thoughts and delusions of grandeur. His father was not one afraid to get his hands dirty. Thus being why he had been given reign over one of the castles at the border of the kingdom.


    "Hmm. Yes. He will do nicely, Alf." His father''s guest laughed, it was a meaty sort of laugh. As if every organ in his body had contributed to it. It made all the hairs of Marcus stand up on end.


    "Impossible. I have great plans for him. Choose someone else, Argus." His father replied stiffly. The man narrowed his eyes and a frown creased his face.


    "I must have him. He absolutely reeks of potential." Argus said, "and besides, you owe me one Alfonse. And I think it high time to collect."


    "How about this?" His father proposed. "We let the boy choose. After all, self determination is a cornerstone of my family. Let it not be said that no man did not have the freedom to choose his own path. After all, my grandfather is the reason we are an aristocratic family, instead of farmers as his parents were."


    "That..is not actually a bad idea, old man." Argus teased merrily. What say you boy? Do you have the guts to leave this all behind and join my mercenary company?"


    "Father?" Marcus was incredibly confused.


    "It is a simple choice, my boy." His father simply said. "This could be your chance to be something more than you could be, stuck here in this family. After all, one of your brothers is going to inherit the title and lands. You could stay here and just perform minor clerical duties, as I am sure they are wont to assign you."


    "No! Of course not!" Marcus shook his head. Having heard his brothers earlier, he was easily sure which posting they would give him. This was unexpected, but could still be to his fortune, if he played his cards right. "I will go with the mercenary!"


    "Hah! Do you even know who I am boy!" Argus laughed and slapped his knee. "Your father and I go way back. Did you know he ran away from home and joined up with the mercenary company the same time I did?"


    "No?" Marcus answered questioningly. His father never talked about himself much, so even finding out he had been in a mercenary company greatly surprised him.


    "The Dancing Deklans! And I am the leader, Argus Fletcher. Heh." Argus introduced himself and Marcus''s eyes widened. Who hasn''t heard of the Dancing Deklans? They were one of the best companies, if not the best! "Anyways, you in or out kid?"


    "I-it would be my honor!" Marcus bowed. He could make a name for himself one day attached to such a famous company. Play his cards right indeed. "Father, I wish to join this man and his company."


    "Well Argus, consider that favor paid." His father said before looking directly at Marcus. "You do know that joining a mercenary company means leaving all of this behind? To no longer be a Santelia?"


    "Yes father!" Marcus nodded. According to the laws of the Kingdom of Dinus, no mercenary may have a noble title and lands. Should a mercenary be offered title and land by their king and accept, they would need to retire as a mercenary. It was to prevent other kingdoms from hiring them to share secrets of state or other internal politics. And it worked pretty well.


    "I see. Then henceforth you are Marcus, formerly de Santelia. May you find fortune on the field of battle." His father bowed his head and then turned to Argus. "Seeing as I had to give up my most favored son, you and the boy shall have to leave...after supper."


    "Heh, wouldn''t have it any other way." Argus replied.