Mount and Blade II: Bannerlord

Imperial Resolution

"The barbarian waits, and we grow weaker in the security of our ease and pleasure." -

Gaius Octavian Caesar Augustus

Prologue

The tavern's packed capacity only seemed to make an interior grow hotter and louder. A fire was set providing ample luxury and heart warming conditions despite mugs clacking together due to farmers from outlying villages selling their harvest. Whores lingered among wealthier souls who'd fought for coin and other such means, if only to keep themselves feed. It was all a precursor due to rumors of another war beginning on the horizon. And despite all that not one peasant, or common folk knew how close they'd experience a sword's rigid blade.

"Rhemir." A man blinked absently downing his own drink when looking over towards who'd spoken his name. Already they're seeking my sword, gods they're impatient bastards. Wryly giving a look of irritation when speaking to an incredibly fur covered man who'd journeyed possibly a fortnight into lands where he'd be considered a potential spy. Or rather vanguard in scouting lands for various reasons to those residing in frigid conditions upon mountains.

Lightly grabbing a bar wench who glared annoyed did he gesture to an empty mugs, "Ale and wine, lass." A small piece of silver drew an impeccable smirk as a hand dropped accordingly when turning to face an esteemed visitor. Sturgians, I can't say it's not expected. They have an eye for those who spill blood and can match them in a contest of liquor, although not in my case. Lightly resisting to chuckle due to a recent run in with one particular job, it'd been quite messy considering his cock had been a bit too tempted.

"What brings you this far south, into Vlandia?" Rhemir asked mainly for appearances sake even though his hand dipped underneath a table. Gestures were made to those in his small company, he'd been forced to let some go on their way or ventured into far more lucrative adventures. Expected, it's getting harder to trade off scavenged weapons and armor without provoking the King's ears from sniffing up my ass lately. Can't exactly buy land, or use what's around to make my own smithy as father would say, 'Bastards extort us and we thank them for taxes.'

The Sturgian messenger only replied evenly less amused when seeing his expression turn coy, "You best hold your tongue, or else it'd be cut. It has a price, if you dare not forget." Rhemir partially bit into warm meat to remark equally aware, "Women and ale finely brewed do not mix well. More so, one who is vexed for shedding tears when neither of us were a bit...confident. I take it someone is still looking to gut me?"

His next words were hardly humoring, "If you mean gut? Your balls and cock to be stuffed down your throat are somewhat fresh in memories." Rhemir's light blue eyes rolled accordingly knowing exactly who in the frozen north would keep their vendetta of a personal nature assured. Then again, by the Gods it was a fun night. It's just they weren't favoring ale, instinct and a messy situation that someone thought beneath them. Regardless that was the lone exception obscured far more shadier dealings that certainly were beneficial in keeping coin flowing, or rather kept him graces with those who scurried outside laws at times.

"What does Strugia need of my sword? Has your lordship not hired out the very best?" He prompted to ask mainly when eying members of his own sword band dropping hands onto hidden daggers due to others arriving. They held distinct features of northerners who'd been living in frozen environments and were quite obnoxious in mannerisms. Yet they were all hardened soldiers given their physiques attracted whores to them due to heavy pouches clinking together on waists. Rumors are spreading of troops gathering in cities, levies being raised and the roads are vacant of bandits as if they've been hunted down to keep fresh men sharpened.

While not overly fond of bandits, Rhemir had several dealings with those lingering in Vlandia and some were quite hospitable. Two groups based in mountains and hills were quite lucrative partners in sometimes acquiring...extra resources. Patho, or Aldius would know more. We've banded together raiding Battanian merchants on Sturgia's request, slavers never say no to extra bodies and the ransoms are worthwhile. Shame they never sell off the women, I could've used a few camp whores but there's no sport in keeping us all disciplined.

"My lord is seeking mercenaries at behest of our King, Rhemir." Of course they were securing contracts for additional men and those daring enough to induce raids. Pulling out a haggard parchment which had been mistaken for rubbish, it'd been a crude and misleading log of event's his meager skills of written penmanship. Few could make it out, if only due to a blend of Vlandian and Imperial dialect which he used out of paranoia. Lessons from childhood persistently irked him because of his mother's strict nature to have him at least be prepared for their family's livelihood. Father would roll his eyes, if only out of exasperation from not being allowed between her legs and liked to remind me being married was worse than torture.

Nonetheless he dipped a quill into ink to inquire blandly, "How much?" Before staring quite hard at the man who hardly blinked, "And what banner is your King going to march against?" Vlandia had been a prosperous land, hardly deterred by those threatening their borders and gossip among lower men were aware among common folk. Peasants never knew how close their precious farmlands would burn, daughters and wives taken, as well being put to the sword in the name of Kings who were going restless in a stalemate since an Empire fractured.

"Eight hundred, weekly." That was startling to which a messenger confirmed partially, "And it's not of the Vlandians. Rather those to their east and to our south." Rhemir's gaze narrowed immediately when a man across from him smiled plainly. They're looking east to...home. Even though I was born along the coast where grass and sand met, it's still the beginning. Imperial descendants this far east were too recognizable given of his birth, but rather the Sturgians weren't above in holding that against him due to his heritage.

Off to their left the bar wench returned with ale and wine despite graciously bending over in revealing pale cleavage to both their eyes. Cheeky, woman. The messenger hardly didn't resist in sliding over silver coin as well, "The gods reward you." Sturgians weren't bashful in getting themselves deep into those willing as he'd been used to observing. But to be fair in his own thoughts, it'd been incredibly tempting to see the lass without clothe.

Sliding over ale across a table while nimbly retaining an overt taste of strong winery did he drink contently, "Is that your lord's reasoning? Or is my blood worth a bit more?" He questioned sardonically smiling knowing they'd need someone among their armies to barter, or offer surrender to those foolish believing the frozen lands were uncivilized barbarians. They'd been patient in gathering strength of arms and were quite thirsty to shatter what little memory of older times. Most in these lands were far too pleased at events before his own birth.

"It's interesting when one who speaks is considered an exile due to those who hold ears and words of lords." Rhemir glared partially irritated when speaking of his father's part in being used in schemes and his mother being forced to her knees in public spectacle. But fortune favored mercy by the gods due to his father's works in crafting siege engines and exile had been a mercy. If only barely when his family had been torn apart by bandits, or rather hired swordsmen in his internal suspicions when venturing west to settle. Regardless only he and his elder brother survived years together, it'd been another unfortunate case never to be solved.

Nonetheless he wrote down what information had been willingly ordered for himself to chew over privately. Laughter emerged due to a musician playing both Sturgian and Vlandian folk songs due to coins being placed into a hat, "Whose throat did you slit open to hear that?" He all but amusingly joked, even if he knew it wasn't humor. Coin minted in gold never ceased to be a power no gods in heaven, or hell could usurp.

An answer made a cup of wine freeze abruptly from being consumed, "Your brother's." Rhemir's blue eyes caught a fire's gloom making them seem unnatural glint, "Or so the rumor we heard when coming across a band of injured. Apparently your kin wanted to clear your family's name, but years don't compensate for grudges. He'd been aware of schemes at your age, so fortunately that feud has been all but settled...on our word."

Rhemir drank consistently longer until exhaling sharply in avoiding an urge to lash out and curse his sibling's stubborn nature of honor. I was barely off my mother's tits, when this scheme uprooted our family from our smithy. Three years old and I've been spared because what use is killing a child who never knew, or understood nothing. No sense of sport, or gratitude. The gods had a strange sense of mercy, if only to be met with cruel vindication of men. Yet it seemed what little chance to clear himself wouldn't be needed after all.

"If I accept your lord's contract, am I in his debt?" He questioned mainly expecting to hear it as a messenger replied negatively, "No. He has need of those who speak Imperial tongues, the King is preparing his campaign and anything he acquires...might earn his favor." Being a pawn in their games never was aggravating since it kept him mostly clean of irritations. But if it paid his men's pouches, it left extra for more to come and it'd been a nice change of pace. Being young had it's merits as he'd turned eighteen not even two fortnights ago.

We need better income anyway, I suppose dying for one who pays for blood is only good reputation for being thankful. The mercenaries he'd known so far would be entertaining to fight alongside, if given they weren't on opposite sides. Yet it'd be nice to see familiar faces again. And not be on the receiving end of swordsmen who were skilled enough. Exhaling loudly did he raise a hand before padding air towards those who nodded to return to their drinks, whores or hot food.

"I suppose fur is cheap up there, where do you need me to venture?" Rhemir stretched cracking his neck when the messenger tossed a bag of solid coin for accepting an initial contract, "One week's pay for your answer. Journey to Tyal, you have a month to get there and await what my lord requires of your band." That would be a long journey even on horse, but he'd be able to make it given errands in maintaining his treasury would be considered. And he didn't mince words when informing a Sturgian of possible delays.

Still it meant within the next month war would be possible, "I may be delayed since I'm not one to ignore errands from villages, or those who pay my men for escort. Tyal is a place I've been too, so I trust your lord or yourself don't mind a little...good will?" The man didn't seemed particular worried given it only served his King's purpose to safeguard his realm's prosperity, "Make sure you mark down who uses your services, Rhemir. You'll be compensated if word reaches others of your good deeds to our lands, but do not forget where you must go."

The young man whose distinct heritage stood out among Vlandian, or Sturgian only smiled partially aware considering he'd be expected. Stubble along his chin indicated he would have his father's and brother's blessings for a beard eventually, if he considered it. Yet two scars along his right eye were distinct due to arrogance nearly claiming half of his vision years ago. Dark hair had been grown out past ears in a bid to keep his family's habit from being closely related to Imperial standards when marching. Compared to most inside the tavern it'd been night and day, so he kept himself aloof for appearances sake.

"Stay safe on the roads, I'll be there within sixty days at most. Winter isn't exactly suitable for horses and may the gods guide you." He tipped his head formally to another man who nodded when getting up to move towards a bar wench who smiled charmingly. She's going to learn they're not gentle, nor do they contain themselves smacking when you ride them, woman. Not that I pity her for thinking it'll be an easy lay. Rhemir rolled his eyes until gesturing for another who seemingly downed an entire mug of ale effortlessly. None dared into considering said person was both trusted as a friend who'd guard his back, or if given a price to cut him open certainly made their friendship a game that few dared to realize.

Sitting across from him was an elder man whose crooked jawline from being broken several times in a lifetime grinned. Many would have steered clear of a man whose reputation in back stabbing those being employed, or who'd been less of a blood thirsty beast. Yet Rhemir's tone tinged on knowing who heard better, "You've had too much to drink again. Our last job must have been too good for you to not be happier."

Despite being apart of his mercenary company for two months, it'd been the gods damned best enjoyment both could experience. A mug was lowered lazily, "No witnesses, more coin and plenty of whores. You may have a pretty face, boy yet you got the devil's smile." Rhemir's expression pleasantly found that compliment a little too damned laced with drunken fulfillment, "And you are a weapon no man wishes to have at their back. It's remarkable that everyone thinks of you as a beast, but we crossed paths because I thought you were dumb enough to avoid killing me."

With the title of given did a man's snark grin leer, "Blood Axe." They were an odd pair of friends and equal enemies given Rhemir was striven to overtake him in terms of martial skill. But it'd be a while to make this man's sheer tenacity, "You're ten years too early, boy but I like being the best given you're a welp, trying his best." It was quite an interesting meeting given the man hailed from Battanian birth, or unassumingly had been raised inside camps for so long that living outside them proved impossible. Yet while rumors were a means to an end, Rhemir found sources of them far too exaggerated.

"Falonog." Rhemir shook his head in seeing wild untamed reddish hair dripping droplets of ale being honest as always. Brutally direct, if only serving to get a laugh didn't seem too troubling considering the man's skill with an axe made from an enemies spine stating otherwise, "Gods bless you." Skimming over last known notations involving fur trade certainly made their imminent journey potential rewarding given some villages he'd done dealings previously. Most were mainly fearful peasants eying roads to claim their harvest at times.

"What did you think of him?" He plainly looked to a messenger whose hands were gripping the wench's ass quite roughly. Falonog's partially grizzled face sneer hungrily, "He's a rat." The man only mentioned laughing quietly, "Likes to pretend he's clean, but he knows who killed your brother. Or are you surprised they found him despite you playing the smart one?"

Rhemir's hands hardly trembled given he grunted less than assured, "My brother was a veteran soldier even when he'd been cast out and wouldn't know schemes unless his throat was slit. So he's telling the truth, I warned him when I came of age to let it go. He didn't listen, so I won't shed a tear knowing he played a part in having our family exiled from our home." It was simply too much effort to shed blood over twenty years ago, as far as anyone was concerned it'd been settled. Being absolved of old memories only made things easier when going over estimated numbers to pay men their shares, he had two or so months worth before things got interesting.

"You're not curious?" A pair of blue eyes narrowed coyly, "Never said I wasn't." The mug was set down when an eager grin emerged, "I'll let the men know. Snow's going to run red, so pack warm and fuck a whore when there's time." Rhemir raised his own cup accordingly not even bothering to mince words considering it'd been true enough. It was going to be an interesting journey, but not without making it irritating. Well it seems and looks like someone's trying to dig up old skeletons, gods alone better help them, I can't wait to find out whose trying to get me to look bad.

The road had been too quiet given wind firmly breezed overhead as Rhemir's leather cowl shielded his face effectively. Behind men marched in silence despite horses neatly carrying supplies, or equipment meant for a hasty encampment. Been three days since we departed, winter never ceases to make me wish I were in southern lands. Gods, rain will be your blessing if I ever complain about being wet and warm again. Underneath him his very own horse which had been a gift nickered loudly in trying to ward off flakes of frozen water settling on sensitive ears.

"Easy girl, easy." He spoke lightly bending over into wiping off coating of white to make his mount whine quietly. Most travel between villages had been frequent even amidst snowfall and strangely enough? Not a damned soul, more so none who reside in the mountains have shown themselves since we passed their mark leagues ago. White flakes kept constantly falling as it'd get even worse as their route took them further north.

The band of fifty men, or so came towards a winding path where it lead further into mountains whose peaks were all but obscured. Rhemir exhaled allowing heated breath to pierce his leather cowl when eying white encrusted canopies. Nothing except for a sliver of green escaped near encased white surfaces blanketing them mostly. And yet there wasn't any particular mark for every league of travel, as a sign to those who knew these woods. Glancing along a road did something particularly stand out when his eyes narrowed due to a shape being covered in snow.

Yanking his mount's reins firmly did it halt as he jumped off down onto slippery dirt grunting due to knee's creaking loudly. That is...different. Whistling sharply which drew attention from several of his company as they rushed over immediately, "Captain?" One of his more veteran men questioned a bit warily given they too knelt down with Rhemir who motioned them as well. Quickly gloved hands wiped away to reveal something which got them on edge immediately, it wasn't often to recognize said detail.

It was a frozen face staring lifelessly ahead with possible sword wounds considering half of his jawline had been butchered. Strange, very strange. No weapons, or armor? The corpse had been there quite awhile considering most of the skin turned bluish purple, or had been frozen akin to rock. Not a peasant, if they're wearing clothe still together even in this frigid cold. Only way to confirm if this is one man I know.

Lightly plucking one of five throwing knives along his belt did he neatly slice aside clothe inspecting a heavily torn open chest. Several men around him asked wryly, "Should we check the wood-line, captain? See if there's more?" Rhemir nodded pointing absently ahead of them cautiously warning them to be mindful, "Swords and torches. Stay in groups of five!"

From behind boots crunched against snow as Falonog bent over lightly nudging a torn open face with an axe's handle, "Looks like he got sliced open, boy. No wolf, or bear makes that look too clean." Without hesitation his finger-less gloves roughly shoved aside frozen flesh, if only seeking any teeth that could have been lodged from said predatory animals. And after a moment he found nothing when peering ahead smirking smugly.

"Someone got taken from behind." Men behind who'd been with them a fair bit longer lit torches when venturing ahead warily. Similar mounds eerily familiar to the one he'd spotted were being uncovered ahead and behind them consistently. Ambush. But not from those who hide in mountains, I've never seen bandit's considering I've helped them. Lightly turning over a corpse where no marking displaying cuts which were signs of those who were among the mountains. Not one matched, or held none leaving him a bit perplexed.

Absently wiping frozen blood off his hands on pants did he stand up exhaling, "Gods! You thinking what I'm thinking?" Brown eyes crinkled all too knowingly, "These ain't Patho's boys. They'd string bodies up in warning, if they tackle groups of armed men. And Aldius is way too far south in them highlands, I mean it's where you and I met years ago. Plus I'd know by my right testicle that he'd cut heads off."

The two walked past groups of men who were swiftly uncovering bodies laid out in almost too perfect positions. Some were flayed out, or outright had hacked off limbs. Yet there was one detail among the dead that his elder friend laughed lowly, "You know, boy? Whoever did this shit of a job in pinning any of our friends? They'd convince everyone but me, you and them for making one fucking attempt in getting me hard."

Rhemir raised an eyebrow curious when an axe handle made of human bone nudged on body being illuminated by yellow and orange flames. He tapped boots still attached to feet, "All of these bastards got their boots and shoes. You know damn well, if it were them?" Jerking his chin back up towards a treeline where no hand carved signs from bandits marking territory no longer existed, "They'd be stripped bare for their mothers and wives to weep for not having a thing filling their legs. Sloppy to us, but damned good to everyone who thinks otherwise!"

All in all three dozen dead were uncovered along a road's edges as parties moved deeper into wood-lines with torches dimly lit. Winds picked up howling overhead leaving little understanding, "Captain!" One man called out gesturing wildly towards mounds of snow which seemed akin to rocks, "Horses! Or what's left of them! We got several and they're all riddled with holes, not many arrows based on what we found so far."

Both Rhemir and Falonog looked at each other, "Arrows?" An axe handle was placed over a shoulder with an equally amused leer, "Since when did Pathos use arrows when his boys use throwing spears to do the job better?" Eyes went further up along past dense forests coating an entire mountain range as a distant peak seemed almost too tempting to ignore. Alright, now I'm curious as to who was waiting for who up here. Wasn't for us, so looks like a pay day for me to get up into by the Gods, I'm offering a stag when I can find one for your blessings.

Rhemir absently started flipping a throwing knife constantly when motioning to the forests, "Find any arrowheads lodged in the trees. If there's any, let us know!" The man nodded smiling before heading off through snow drifts as he exhaled deeply. If they used plenty of bows and quivers, someone's sloppy enough to leave crumbs. They're just too damned sloppy, leave evidence and you'll get tagged when someone makes your heads in any town nearby.

Behind him most of his party started drawing swords partially when bringing their supply trains closer for protection. Falonog absently drank from his pouch belching loudly, "Ale as cold as ice makes my balls tingle, boy. It's got a lasting flavor." That garnered a strong slap on the man's shoulder when Rhemir laughed aloud jesting, "God's curse your mouth! I pity your mother who screamed as she saw your face in this world."

The two bypassed an overhead series of tree's as small clumps of white frozen liquid slipped off pooling along a road's slanted incline. Rhemir couldn't help except to frown a bit considering most of these trees were far too leaning in one direction. Men were hiding up on those branches, I bet and if that's the case? Who in the name of Gods was worth in jumping onto horses to get them, I've never seen someone pull this kind of plan off...ever.

Lightly kicking aside snow covering some partially exposed corpse did he crouch down trying to find any sign to give some indication. Battanian? No, not even Strugian. Rhemir's lips twitched when coming across a certain marking once he tore off a shredded shirt on the upper shoulder. Wind howled past making him wince when he sharply whistled again gaining attention, "I'm no scholar, but does anyone see that? Right there?"

Falonog came over in seeing darkened ink which had been hand pressed along frozen flesh. It seemed to be a marking of sorts, or akin to war-paint given his experiences. Well I'll be damned, Gods may just curse us yet! As he constantly kept snow from covering some sort of word barely legible, "That Imperial?" An elder friend gruffly guessed as Rhemir chuckled loudly to stand upright shaking his head in utter exasperation.

"Indeed." Glancing up at darkened skies with snowfall growing heavier and dangerously coming close to making even torches going out, "But this one is a little strange." The ink itself was a rarity few came close to invoking, if he recalled what little his brother had mentioned in passing. Hastati? Well I'll be damned by the Gods, I swear these are old marks of the Legions. Never actually seen one considering they're not around anymore, but I damn well know you don't forget an eagle's head with blackened eyes in a book.

Just what in the name of Gods did they earnestly stumble onto now? Crossing arms in a bid to fight off chills running along his spine due to dropping temperatures, "Hastati. I couldn't tell you what it means, but they're not from around here this far west. Looks like we're taking a trip to Pathos's hideout, I'm too damned curious why this is happening on his doorstep." Too many oddities were too tempting to ignore, if only to get off a frozen deathtrap for the road. If they couldn't find shelter, or outright see what had been happening he'd become an eunuch.

"We finding trouble?" Falonog hinted eagerly when shaking off snow on his broad shoulders in a bid crack joints contently, "Maybe." The younger mercenary chuckled all too pleased, "Either way Pathos hasn't sent word about us helping him in almost two months, I'm already curious enough what's got him being silent. And now all of these bodies when none of his men are watching their territory? The Gods are either blessing us, or cursing us to take a gamble. Trouble is just us finding extra pay and seeing how much it'll do us good!"

Walking back when groups started returning back to the road did he motion for most to gather around. Half tired, or outright expectant Rhemir didn't mince his next words, "Looks like we might have a potential payday on our hands, men. Need ten volunteers to journey up to a mountain peak where some old friends of ours might have answers to...that." Thumbing over a shoulder before telling them quite frankly stern, "Rest of you set up a camp, fire and keep the ale warm. Rotate watches just in case someone doesn't like us finding out."

They had ample time to spare considering their march had been well enough. Yet something didn't seem entirely right, if only for too many obvious signs. Sometimes I curse you brother, I blame your damned sense of curiosity in making me fall to temptations. Gods, I hope you rest in peace or else I'll drag your soul back one day. Vowing partially amused when wind howled above sending drifts of snow and ice falling freely overhead. He came too one supply cart being pulled by a pair of older workhorses which were panting loudly in the frigid temperature.

"What do you think we'll find up there?" Rhemir didn't bother except tossing bundles of dented chain-mail towards Falonog who took another swing of his ale. Lightly getting up as a man who'd been holding reins reached back grabbing a long-sword, the young man idly made sure metal hadn't stuck inside a scabbard. And after several quick motions was satisfied when it removed itself not too stiffly in practiced manners. Retrieving his own bundle of armor which was mainly a helm that had padding to cover his chin, chain-mail which had seen better days and a shield which covered only his back somewhat.

But he eventually answered after smirking, "If we're lucky? Pathos has bodies for us to sell, or if you're unlucky?" His hand dipped to throwing knives in flipping one over fondly, "He's got some extra coin to depart with...for wasting our time." Tapping a knife's edge along his forearm hinting to an almost pleased leering. Almost a full dozen of footmen, or archers who'd been recently stepped forward among those jeering them to at least earn their place. But not one of the seemingly couldn't refuse enjoying a hike up a mountain, if there was some sort of reward hinted considering they'd found an opportunity.

Snow viciously made him wince due to exposed flesh being sliced akin to glass shards as Rhemir shook himself visibly. This is why, I never venture up here during winter! Scowling underneath leather clothe when he pushed himself over rocks, as a hand assisted with most of a group warily keeping eyes on each other. It'd been a difficult journey avoiding one many pathway to where they'd have to find, if only out of sheer willingness to remain unseen. Yet taking an extra hour, or two proved fortunate due to them coming up a cliff where dug out hole meant for a quick getaway were almost blessing to several among his band.

"No one's watching from above." Falonog commented gruffly through thick fur which was wrapped around an entire face. Only eyes were barely visible with an axe meant for two hands stowed securely on his back, "Pathos may be a gutless fuck, but he ain't stupid." Rhemir wordlessly accepted a hand when they scaled upwards grunting in keeping footing secured in snow filled gaps. Apparently it'd been neglected to where normally an already difficult climb turned into near perilous conditions, if near white out conditions forced him to gruelingly climb at a child's pace.

"Indeed." The younger mercenary captain growled out as several advanced footmen reached a ledge to begin pulling their own up. Something's not right, if it isn't Pathos not greeting us then arrowheads when they use throwing spears? And boots...with this shit? The bandits of mountains knew where and how to find places to hide, or strike given they'd worked together. Trust had been priceless and neither party found reason to break beneficial opportunities, if one or another sent word to strike something particularly valuable.

Time crawled until he reached the top where several of his men pulled himself clear. And swung around immediately getting a friend to grunt lowly, "You eat too much, bastard." An axe came deliberately close into clipping his exposed face. Yet he didn't react angrily considering it'd been true as of late. Yet all twelve of them took time to catch their breath out of howling gusts which crashed against a cliff's sheer width. They could barely make out dim outlines of dense forests nearly below as tips skimmed against granite providing concealment and security from prying eyes who'd normally hunt them.

For five, or so minutes they caught themselves until Rhemir managed to speak quietly, "Swords." All men immediately froze to hear him, "And keep low, since none of our friendly mountain's men are here!" Pulling out a throwing knife did he peer towards a cave's opening where no signs of torches, or men sitting within could be made out over howling winds. What in the name of the Gods did you get yourself into, Pathos? Wretched drunk, I hope a woman slit your damned throat for losing one of the best places to hold your own territory for a damned change.

Footmen drew blades while holding shields, bowmen notched arrows or used shorter blades as Falonog grinned eagerly. They advanced together shoulder to shoulder, if only to hear for any signs of men talking or even sleeping. Due to an interior it wasn't much warmer, a sign that some refused to keep an entire hideout warmer in colder seasons. And the lack of any noise was quite disturbing considering almost two dozen had called this location home. Occasionally metal clicked due to a shield's corner lightly brushing against solid granite in making Rhemir's teeth grit tightly, it'd might as well been a horn signaling armies to charge forward.

"Do that again and I toss your head over that cliff." He warned simply towards a man who nodded shakily well aware as an axe glinted in the gloom. Falonog's quiet chortle didn't alleviate a threat considering he'd all too willingly help openly. Not much better than raw recruits, but they'll learn one way or another. And if they can't, they'll be fodder for others to learn how to learn without getting us all killed.

Rolling both eyes until exhaling lightly did they continue seeing very little signs of activity from a group known for being dangerous. Local villages often tried using their own militia at times in trying to dissuade Pathos's men from raiding, or picking off small groups journeying to larger cities in selling their own harvests. And on occasion they'd mask themselves as poachers in gaining easier access, if only to have someone like himself come along. Convincing poachers the error of their ways, how amusing considering they keep on appearing every so often. Yet the merchant guilds never complain until it happens, an easy business.

After bypassing several burnt out torch holdings along walls did distant sounds of laughter finally grace their ears. Ahead were two potential paths into leading to various points inside a hideout, "Take six and move. If there's too many, wait until I take one out." Falonog grinned rather impatiently, "This isn't our first time, boy. Five, is all I need." Rhemir gave a partial half ass glare yet waved his hand to allow it since it was a challenge for some to survive the night. Not that he minded, but losing too many just made things slightly irritating for future opportunities.

Madness, it is something you and I cannot escape willingly. Gesturing for those still behind him as one group shuffled towards one tunnel. After seeing them disappear further ahead did he begin his own journey, more so Rhemir whispered softly, "Strike only when their backs are turned. I'll cut down a few since none of you can move...quietly." It wasn't a boast considering he'd intentionally kept his shield tight across behind in a bid to avoid carrying it. Yet they would learn some of those who earned coin by the sword needed to be a bit more flexible.

Without seeing their reactions he moved upwards into a crouch with throwing knives palmed accordingly. Their pathway would descend briefly, if only to go upwards towards an area known for ale and bedding given he noticed a faded etched symbol along walls. Pathos always loved making sure his men knew where to go, or if necessary flee when being discovered. Man was sly as a fox, but not smart as many claimed otherwise. Amusement flooded his memories considerably when avoiding several sharp inclines to hear something ahead.

Distant belching along with voices ranging from laughter, or jeering seemed to grow closer considering their tunnel went upwards. It got louder as every step was painstakingly managed when he peered upwards in seeing orange gloom flickering. Finally! Glancing over his shoulder to mouth out a single word, "Down." Padding air with him going onto his chest to use elbows into crawling as several of his own grunted in trying to mirror himself. None of them fortunately dared to tempt his vow in beheading them afterward in having swords, or shields scrapping against granite walls keenly aware it'd be upheld entirely.

Behind skin curling air from howling gusts managed in keeping those who'd normally keep an eye on their backs. Yet that gloom above seemingly grew brighter when voices arose crankily in response to dropping temperatures in the land's season. This only confirms they're not of Vlandian, or Sturgian blood since they care for warmth more than safety. Very odd, if I wasn't tempted to find out before now I'm just praising the Gods for my conviction. Soon enough he crept upwards gaining ground as a distant clang of metal seemingly jolted his ears abruptly.

Laughter followed due to more metal clanging until a scream followed for several moments as Rhemir could guess accurately. Torture, I bet. And they're doing it wrong, cutting off fingers first and then start prodding anywhere with something hot to cauterize skin. Either those who'd been waiting on the road were inept, or were gleefully enjoying some unfortunate souls for various reasons. Regardless he managed to crawl until orange and yellow gave way to a fire being lazily attended to with one person facing away.

Peaking just around both corners were two ragged looking cases of hand craved wooden steps. One led upwards to where some would rest as another led downwards further below. Screams and shouts echoed consistently to leave little imagination. Perfect! Smiling partially eager as he gestured for others behind himself to move up, "Five of you move up and kill any who sleep. Rest of you stand behind me, we're cleaning house tonight." Men nodded immediately in drawing swords closer as he assisted them getting up to move quietly despite a lone person attending a fire. Rhemir kept eyes all times that one who belched loudly due to a weathered bound pouch of wine, the leather looked extremely worn down considerably.

Creeping forward he noticed barrels mostly empty, if only a sign whoever took over this location hadn't intended to keep it. They were using what had been gathered as a means to await those who'd been traveling on the roads down below in a valley. Stalking, or paid too I'd bet for the God's favor in my gut. Behind him were half a dozen men keeping their breathing short and stilled as he came just within an arm's length of a man who seemed to slump over.

He tossed an emptied pouch until looking up as Rhemir lunged quickly into wrapping arm around to have a glove covering an exposed mouth. The knife's sharped edge pierced little resistance considering his enemy had no, or had taken off armor to wear a mundane tunic of sorts. And crimson liquid spilled just between them as he viciously yanked a weak yelp onto warm dirt. Within moments one gaping gash ended an enemy who never saw his killer, "Drunkards." He muttered pleased due to them celebrating victory far too strongly, so it'd play out more as he sharply motioned for others to begin their own attempts.

Above muffled thumps signaled others being cut down in their sleep, all in all a good sign they'd taken their time to make sure no noise wafted below. Other men hardly hesitated when pouncing onto bed rolls with various swords piercing necks, or outright were impaled freely into silencing men who coughed up red in their gurgling horror. Five below, plus this one. How many are we dealing with here considering Pathos only kept around twenty at most. Too many mouths to be feed, too many men to satisfy if there's only one, or two captives who'd wet themselves. And I'm starting to understand why none are around anymore, they got sloppy or these folk found a way in to make it easier.

Wiping red along a corpses tunic sleeve did he whisper, "Pair up and watch your backs. Do the God's a favor and we'll see how the other's are doing." Walking past crisp salutes in favor of maintain stilled quiet did he brush past another group of descending men. One spoke lowly indicating that'd happened above them on boarded floors, "Six, captain. All were asleep and plenty of ale thrown about!" Rhemir nodded until pointing towards other's who were moving ahead. It didn't need to be explained in using their numbers to begin clearing out enemies.

Eleven, so far. Must be quite a party to have this many held up here! Fairly impressed did he look around wondering where exactly those other screams had originated. Another staircase promptly smaller dipped near some emptied out barrels in making him grin. Of course, Pathos always had a hole to hide whores, or women usually for his own pleasures. Bastard loved keeping them close, I'd do the same if I had to keep most of my men entertained on long nights.

Casually spinning a knife by the handle's loop did he venture down, if only to peek through gaps in hearing muffled laughter. Usually a pair of guards keeping an eye on those locked within would've been sitting bored off their asses. And yet not a single person stood out. Whoever made them had locked themselves, or seemed to be having their fun undisturbed. Rhemir chuckled quietly finding it far too sloppy, as if whoever had done that work on a road considered themselves well hidden and fooled everyone else. Well it'd have gone right, if not for those who lingered in unsavory walks of life who made fools of most obeying laws...willingly.

The door itself was ajar when one roaring round of laughs filtered through echoing above. Walking over quietly making sure to avoid stepping on discarded mugs, or pieces of food did he begin to smell something incredibly foul. Sweat, blood and stinking bodies. Exhaling lightly in covering his lower face realizing it'd been certainly, "Come on, bitch! Open that pretty mouth, I heard your tongue..." A yelp of shock and pain had others bellowing uncontrollably, it didn't take long for a sardonic grin to appear in hearing an answer.

"She bit your cock? Gods, that's the spirit!" One voice couldn't help breaking up falling over in causing metal to clatter as it was akin to chains being tightened. Another chimed in almost exasperated, "I told you not to try, ya impatient ass. Don't spoil the prize too much, or else we'll get flayed alive. Just tie her up, beat her until that pretty face begs us to stop and then just fuck her enough when we get word back."

Rhemir hummed contemplating in gleaming some insight until eventually deciding to drag a few potential problems out. Someone important who bites a man's cock, I've got to see that kind of valor in battle. Laughing hard despite trembling did he begin to lightly tap a door's exterior with one knives handle, as if someone were asking to enter. It was loud enough, but too urgent as someone within groaned all too damned irritated.

"Didn't I tell you to keep that fire up there! Drunken bastard thinks he can get first in on this prize!" The knocking was fairly inconsistent yet it drew one who outright yelled, "Oh gods damn it!" Rhemir whistled casually tapping on the door until someone grumbled to have whoever they assumed to be told off. And footsteps crunched over dirt just as he backed away just to see the door slam open. Some armored man looked around momentarily, or rather didn't check behind a minor detail considering all things.

The door was flush against a mercenary captain's face as a man's shadow got closer trying to find where his supposed drunk had been hiding. As soon as a boot came into his vision, Rhemir growled shoving the door closed and immediately ran causing a man to scream out in shock. He never felt the knife cut through his bottom jaw, if only to stumble backwards and gagged out rasping words until another stab through a widened eye ended him.

Yanking it free did he quickly pull out three until they all dangled loosely on crimson soaked gloves. Using an angled boot to pull a doorway open further, a hand cocked back and two knives came slicing through in hitting one man who cried out clutching his neck. They never look down, I just love it when idiots and ale mix. Too damned sweet, I'd say for the God's favor. A third voice bellowed out angrily only to come rushing head long into a long-sword's length cutting deeply into his gut. Rhemir pushed further until a rasping shock of breath met numbed knees, as a knife's bladed edge casually slit the throat before pushing him aside loosely.

Roughly twisting did he retract an almost red soaked length of iron as a man slumped over gagging for air. He only slammed a boot down effortlessly sending the man's crooked nose further off to the right side more ending him utterly. And then there was only one! Stalking over despite grimacing at five shambling corpses of men strung up, he kicked a man who was gagging loudly and desperately trying to stem crimson flow in a vain attempt for living. Rhemir pondered momentarily until absently snarling when stomping repeated in digging knives further beneath flesh and his long-sword came down beheading the man entirely.

A skull rolled due to him kicking it aside while retrieving two knives accordingly, if only to brush them clean on clothing. Taking time to idly see half skinned men who'd been chained overhead, it'd certainly explain why considered most had pissed themselves, or were left hanging to rot. And yet all of them sported similar markings akin to that corpse he'd first discovered. Hastatii...marks of the legions, so some survived and beaten to death? Brutal, but I'd prefer the fingers being cut off since it keeps them alive longer mainly.

Chains weakly scrapped along dirt as his gaze narrowed keenly when turning around. Ragged breathes were due to the lone prisoner, a woman whose dirtied hair covered most of her face. Yet a nasty bloody wound along her skull's side left little imagination. Some sort of mace, or hammer had done that as a means to keep her quite unaware without killing. Rhemir idly wondered who'd be kept alive, if Imperial soldiers he'd never seen at all in his life were toyed with effortlessly. Strands of blond hair mixed with crimson certainly gave off an upbringing of wealth, if her eyes weakly glared partially conscious at him defiantly.

She'd been stripped bare to a point where only a dagger's breath would cut away what little remained exposed. It seemed numerous cuts along her arms, abdomen and inner thighs were games to those who'd wanted to fill that hole just out of sight. Interesting. She's not a common whore, or peasant girl who got caught. Defiant, angry and resorts to biting a man's cock? Now that is what I'd call, a potential payday for someone to cough up gold.

Humming loudly while sheathing a blood soaked blade back into it's sheath did he ask quite conversationally, "You got a name?" Casually inspecting corpses seeking for any signs of keys to iron cuffs didn't come easily. Or rather until he exhaled tiredly in turning around to seem them glinting underneath torches. Fetching them by cutting off a belt of animal hide didn't seem to give a positive impression on the woman bound. She only breathed shallowly, quickly and coughed spitting out a wad of red at his direction.

"I...will...not." Her voice sounded hoarse considering a lack of water, or anything remotely appealing could make say otherwise. Rhemir raised both eyebrows whistling innocently in slinging keys around a finger nimbly, "Well, horseshit as they say among us. See, I could let out of those cuffs and you'll maybe find yourself a drink. But without a name, I'm afraid you'll be hanging around until you join...the rest of your cellmates."

Kneeling down to yank one particular pouch full of wine as he gave it a shake with liquid sloshing around. Her eyes trailed downward unable to fight off natural urges to quench thirst, "Give me your name, woman." The mercenary captain smiled quite pleased to hold a corked canteen just within inches of her dried out lips. He couldn't contain pleasantly offering a slightly overstep on his own joy in seeing how much a potential ransom could haul in effortlessly. And it'd only cost him losing out on some spare wine for his men to drink one night.

"...No." She whispered trying to look away before Rhemir's gloved hand stopped that notion quite easily in his position, "If you do, we'll clean you up and speak later." He offered when holding keys just in front of blue eyes that were warmly promising. Perhaps dehydration had it's merits considering she looked up into him pulling down a clothe exposing his own face. There was a fond, comforting and practiced ease that gave him his friends compliment in having a devil's smile. It never failed, if only to those desperate to accept the lie hiding in plain sight.

Lazily popping a cork where liquid partially came hitting her cheek did she exhale painfully, "Why...believe...you?" Rhemir's smile bordered on utter innocence to simply state by tapping a canteen's tip on her chin, "Because I'm your only chance to get out of here alive. Answer my question, and I'll keep you safe until we talk again." She didn't reply immediately despite sounds of iron and steel clashing above which he looked over at an ascending staircase. Apparently more were on their way, or his men were having their enjoyment in cutting them down.

Glancing back to make it even sweeter he promised wholeheartedly, "Better hurry, or else those who are keeping you here make me...think otherwise." Sweat still dripped down her forehead as a bruised eye struggled to open revealing similar coloration to his own. Second passed as swords clashed upstairs with bellowing akin to a man enjoying himself freely. And in that moment she decided to whisper one single word giving him an answer at long last.

"Phaea." Her voice whispered as a canteen's opened end lightly did itself the favor in having her drink greedily. Coughing loudly until slumping over gave Rhemir a thoughtful expression, "Nice name." Complimenting simply when standing to lazily unlock cuffs in having an unconscious prisoner slump downwards and remain to be no longer capable in moving. He never bothered to look behind him when heavy steps creaked due to several people coming down. And considering a lot of chuckling involved someone he'd recognize, it'd been an utter reward in itself.

Falonog tossed over some random soul's skull to ask quite amazed, "Who the hell is this? A new whore, or what boy?" Rhemir managed grunting to get the lighter woman off her feet, even if they were dragging through muddied dirt filled with crimson. Yet his smile bordered on a man who'd just found the god's rewarding those who were perceptive enough to thank them. And he would sacrifice offerings to them whenever the weather cleared up, because this was what he considered a pleasant opportunity.

"I think you should be asking: is how much we're going to get!" The young man laughed gleefully when brushing past several of his own men who whistled in seeing gruesome sights. All in all it'd been an interesting journey, if only to come across a stroke of fortune. I'm not one to brag, but that name sounds just like someone who hails from Imperial lands. Almost reminds me of home, although I guess I'll find out more considering Pathos's hideout is all for us to stripe down. Sometimes destiny had a strange sense of surreal intention considering what would happen next, it'd become the start of something very few and one young mercenary would never imagine how the Gods cursed him effortlessly.

End Prologue

Author's Note: This was one story I began not too long ago, during my usual times when I had small times for gaining motivation and had lying around. I occasionally venture into Mount and Blade: Bannerlord, so I figured sharing something similarly done for another story that many, or older readers do enviously hope I return too. It's a passing fancy I hold, I do enjoy medieval style settings for stories, worlds and this one was oddly enough an open book considering there's a generalized history to it, but alas in this game I'm one of the few who thoroughly enjoy the Imperial Factions. They're very based on Roman influences pending on whose the more historical junkie, I say they're closer to Byzantines (Eastern Romans) more than their western counterparts, so nonetheless feel the need to correct me considering I do have a hobby reading historical accounts pertaining to Rome's Reign over their long times in our past.

Every person has their own characters, their own interpretations of events and I'm not an exception. I was around during the initial release of this game, so there's a few older jokes pertaining to bowmen and javelins back in the day, they were notoriously great especially for legionary troops fending off the hordes of a certain horse faction that irritate me to this day. But nonetheless welcome to a story that I hope does garner some interest, Imperial Resolution, so be warned now. There will be a lot of mature/realistic/dark themes you may notice off the bat. It's not entirely without merit, but I do love a character driven story and battles are always what I call, the icing to make it a worthwhile meal. So as such, I welcome you all to this journey's start...whether I continue it, is up to you in all honesty.

Leave a review and I shall provide, if you are interested for more to come.