The fight was nothing like he'd ever seen before. When he'd overheard that the townspeople had pooled money for mercenaries to get rid of the gang of bandits that had been plaguing them for months on end, he didn't think it would be anything spectacular. It would be just like when they'd had to defend a village in the army, he thought, it would just be people fighting people; not all of them would be mounted, but it'd be practically the same thing. The knight quickly changed his mind when he saw the battle start not too far from his own house.
The way the mercenaries fought was incredible; they were so skilled, and there was a certain axe-wielding paladin that Oscar thought was especially stunning. The way the dying sunlight gleamed brilliantly off her silver blade before she brought it down on an enemy had the emerald-headed man entranced; you would have to have rocks for brains not to notice the admiration in his eyes. Then there was the commander, the firm-faced man he'd passed in town earlier that very day. He swung his gargantuan weapon with ease, slicing through the enemy lines like a hot knife through butter; not even one of the brigands could get near him without getting cut down. He thought he'd seen skill when he observed his superior officers while he was with the knights of Crimea, but this man took it to a whole new level.
They were outnumbered pretty severely though, and the man felt the urge to help well up inside him. Taking his brothers to the basement, he gave them both hugs and kisses and told them not to open the door unless they heard his voice; he waited outside until Boyd was finished fumbling with the lock, wanting to hear it click shut before he left. Then he went to don his old armor, and lead his horse from the makeshift stable he'd constructed for her. His iron lance waited for him in the corner by the door, as if it was beckoning him to come forth and take it in his hands again. After he was properly outfitted, he mounted his mare and made to join the fight. The knight slipped effortlessly into the fray, skewering a bandit on his weapon. No one seemed to notice an extra face among the chaos, and so Oscar kept fighting until the battle was over; which happened not too long after the mercenary commander had slain the marauders' leader.
The emerald cavalier lead his horse aside and slid off his place in the saddle, not wanting to be confronted. He gave the bay mare a gentle pat and smiled at her. "Good job out there, girl. You haven't seen any action for a while now, eh? I bet it was nice to stretch your legs again." He nearly jumped right out of his skin when he heard a firm voice addressing him. "You there; young man." The knight turned to see the same hardened face of the mercenary commander, and cursed at himself internally for not immediately heading back to his house.
The man walked up to him, and for the first time Oscar saw how towering this warrior really was. He had to be at least six foor four, and was built like a brick wall. All he could manage to do was respond with a feeble "Y-yes, sir?" and look down at his hands. "Did you join us in the fight?" he smiled slightly when the cavalier nodded, "I thought I saw an unfamiliar face among us. You did great out there. Where did you learn to handle yourself so well?" "I-I used to be with the knights, sir," he mumbled, and the stranger frowned slightly at that. "Why aren't you still? You're clearly a proficient fighter." Oscar felt discomfort start to knot up his stomach, and he muttered, "…I have brothers to take care of. I had to resign when our father died."
For barely a second, the man saw what might be sadness flicker across the other's eyes. There was a long pause, and then the mercenary spoke up again. "What would you say if I offered you a position in my company? We're always looking for capable men." The knight was about to interject, but the man stopped him. "Don't fret about your brothers, either. My son and daughter travel with us, and they'll be in good hands if you choose to join."
"So, what do you say?" the stranger finished, extending a hand. Oscar couldn't force any words out of his chest for a full minute, but eventually managed.
"Yes sir," he said, finally smiling again, "Yes please."