Mount and Blade II: Bannerlord

Imperial Resolution

"Remember upon the conduct of each depends the fate of all." -

Alexander the Great

Chapter II

Walking back on a mostly packed street didn't appease an ever growing sense due to groups of patrons drunk, all were laughing together. Rhemir couldn't shake a cold instinct rearing it's presence whenever eying alleyways normally familiar. I have a bounty on my head, they don't know my name but everyone around here would piece it together. And it's only because I tempted fate! The source would be a gods damned noblewoman whose head remained lowered when walking beside him, if only prolonging an internal problem.

"Was your business concluded, captain Rhemir?" The woman's tone bordered along an order which finally pieced together one mystery entirely. Imperial noble, oh wonderful. It couldn't have been some rich merchants, or local mayor's daughter! But instead a foreign lady who had conveniently dropped him an overly large sum of gold to escort her, if only to match a bounty on his band's extermination for that equal sum. Only two things stood out for him to either throw her in a ditch, or leave her in this damned accursed street.

Regardless he kept his voice level despite hearing a cat hiss nearby in making one hand dip towards the throwing knife, "It could have gone better." Several of his band's members were walking ahead, as Falonog trailed behind them with Tethe. Both men were slurring words to a point as oblivious to all realms possible. Portions of dirt roads were covered in half frozen ice, "Have you reconsidered journeying to Epicortea? I can muster three thousand easily, if we make haste and I would be in your debt, captain."

The young mercenary didn't bother mincing words to blandly intone, "I've thought about it!" Groups of patrons started dispersing towards homes, or ventured down other streets were occasional city guard patrolled frequently. Rhemir oddly found their presence rightfully deterring considering he'd usually avoid them, least in past differences from time time. But fate seemed to have a sense of irony, in actually hoping they stuck around on his way back to his party's loading area.

Most of his company inevitably came back together with Falonog on his rear with Tethe still jostling each other roughly. We need to leave tonight, I believe. Branco's never been so damned serious as far as I've known him. He's spooked akin to spirits being sighted in graveyards, he actually is so scared shit less to warn us to leave these lands immediately. Even though the captain of a fledgling company knew how to keep himself scarce, it seemed bigger swords had eyes on someone who couldn't lie to save themselves apparently.

"I would be grateful, captain." Phaea's voice lowered immeasurably when stepping closer due to incline her head to not have a face appear visible. The cowl concealed most of her appearance, but a dress had been dirtied along loose folds on the ground. And this was just his discovery due to seeing a dagger's hilt sticking up along her side. She knew how to defend herself, if only managing in trying to secure protection from...everyone else.

The lack of a city's inhabitants usually still lingering seemed strangely vacant as they all turned along another road. It'd lead towards an outer section where most merchants, or traveling parties kept their wares under city guard who'd been assigned to deter thievery. But eventually he answered somewhat unsurprising, "Being grateful? Why wouldn't a woman in your place imagine otherwise, or are you going to tell me how you ended up in chains?"

Phaea only switched topics towards a more personal nature, "How does a man who knows Caladric well enough to speak it, write it and end up with backwards woodsmen and untrustworthy backstabbers? You're not like them." She must have meant Vlandian considering several of his men turned despite being drunkards, they'd hear loathing coming from a peculiar accent. And Rhemir followed suite finding that tone almost insulting in hindsight.

Raising an eyebrow while a knife's hand found purchase inside his palm, "What makes you so certain of that?" Her eye coloration were far more pronounced compared to his own, "Because your blood makes it so. Your mannerism given you try to hide it, your accent which is puzzling and I can see your attitude all give me a hope that I wouldn't have dared to imagine to encounter one of my own...so far out here." Rhemir's expression couldn't contain a grin that threatened to expose teeth as an urge to have her throat slit tempted him earnestly.

Women! They love being devious, if they can't get their way. He openly grinned trying to hide another side which was far more natural for him to embrace, "You can try to avoid it, Phaea. But you cannot lie to save your skin!" She didn't waver in glaring even as a blade partially unsheathed itself. He didn't doubt her in not seeing an obvious sign of warning, if only to change subjects immediately. No need to dig up old graves in his mind, especially not to a damned Lady of all things.

"Is three thousand not enough, captain?" The man didn't bother hiding his irritation if only to coyly imply something more, "Maybe." Between Branco's warning and coincidence he assured her quite confidently, "It's just a number that doesn't agree with me. Wouldn't you ask yourself why that particular sum is a bit...odd. Especially for someone who ends up chained after being stalked on a road well over a week, I'd take it?"

Lightly making way down an entire road where various shops were closed as night fully embraced a city with most shutting windows. Rhemir caught sight of candles within being doused immediately, if they passed slower than a drunkard's pacing. What in actual horseshit am I seeing? Someone knows something for an entire street to go dark, it's not Tethe. And Branco wouldn't be caught dead trying to kill myself, or this Lady with a guard captain... He paused mid thought feeling a chill running up his back to stare at two Battanian descended men who were rough housing. Falonog wouldn't have been that far gone to not notice, if grappling a man's neck boasting about past fights and the two had known each other longer.

"Five..." Rhemir lashed out covering her mouth ceasing noise due to cats hissing abruptly, "Shut your mouth." His voice hardened impeccably to yank her closer to hiss out words grinning, "You're going to cause me a gods damned fortune, if I'm being dragged into your shit. Or else I will toss your corpse in a ditch, if you don't tell me now." Those noises he'd been hearing weren't natural animals, oddly given it was appearing too frequently to not make him uneasy and every alley they passed it'd followed.

Phaea roughly slapped a gloved hand off her face, "Get me to Epicortea, captain." If her thick headed nature hadn't been tempting him to carve a line on that throat beforehand? Well it almost killed him to growl under-breath to whistle sharply drawing attention, as in every head spun or looked up concerned to gain attention. Run. That singular word made all the more damned sense, Branco knew strange folk were inside this city because they'd been waiting for Phaea to be within it's walls and he just waltzed in like an absolute rustic.

"Run!" He barked out dragging a woman by her clothing's scuff to immediately bolt down a straightaway street. His men looked between each other as Falonog's fist suddenly sent a drunkard guard captain tumbling over. Before cheekily throwing off to the side face first, laugh onto spitting on his face briefly, "Thanks for the drinks, little man. Hope your spawn appreciates it! Now get your balls tucked and start legging it out, boys!" He yelled out merrily despite holding his guts to refrain from vomiting, "We got company!"

As soon as he sprinted away an arrow just missed striking his head. And soon cutting streaks of arrowheads slicing overhead got them moving. Hooded men came out partially skidding from behind with several knives being whipped, "Horseshit!" Falonog's bellowing word came as one tried to gut him from behind, if only to have a massive boot striking between legs and his attacker stumbled to only be squared punched out cold. Rhemir didn't hesitate in flinging a knife as it slicked through air striking another who yelped clutching his bleeding neck.

"Run, you fat sack of shit!" Screaming irritably in legging it out with others who could see they were being ambushed. Together dragging an almost stumbling woman due to a dress getting caught underneath feet, Rhemir and a giant of a man practically dragged an almost infuriated woman cleanly over frozen icy roads. Near hissing wafts air were followed by muffled thuds of arrows sticking up as a pair of mercenaries immediately started angling their pathway.

"Why did you knock that guard out!" Phaea's voice shrieked as Rhemir harshly laughed when his monstrous friend chortled, "Couldn't trust him, lass." Nearly slipping when rushing across with several arrows nearly nicking their heels, "And besides, little man got a spawn coming. Least I could do, if his woman see's a tooth missing." Laughing almost undeniably pleased given the Lady couldn't hide sheer disgust at how brutish his friend truly was at times.

Rhemir barked out a single word, "Left!" They threw themselves onto ice before scampering up just to see two of their men screaming as they fell over gurgling up crimson. Arrows had pierced their backs to where heads cleanly went through guts, "Tethe ain't with these bastards!" He bit out panting as two pairs of legs quickly gained ground, "Branco just gave us a heads up. And I'm not happy because this is Gods damning me the most absolute horseshit, I've never seen!"

Several more ahead of them suddenly bellowed in alarm as hooded figures came sprinting and tackling them to the ground. Both he, Phaea and Falonog abruptly froze in seeing blades descending in seeing limbs being hacked off. Fucking Gods! Quickly blurting out, "Backstreets! Now!" The two literally half dragged and carried a woman who tried shrieking infuriated, "I can run you half wits! Or I swear by my father I'll..."

Falonog sharply slapped her speechless, "Shut it, lass!" Rhemir whistled a bit impressed panting due to pulling them right along a narrowed street wedged behind buildings, "He must be drunk enough to be this nice, Phaea. Usually he'll punch your ass out cold." Laughing equally impressed and concerned when trying to find any signs of those he'd known were around. Gangs were shifty groups, but they didn't hide without a reason to make them forced too.

Come on you slithery shits, I know you're watching us! Just off to their right another alley narrowed towards an opened up space where a ground water well remained. Finally! Wedging themselves tightly did three buildings open up to a clearing where most occupants would have rested, or enjoyed privacy for other such habits. Yet there was an audible marking etched on angle along one side which symbolized a serpent rearing it's head back aggressively.

"You're both mad!" The woman between them bit out remarkably keeping herself contained to not begin trying to escape their grips, "There's no escape from this dead end." Rhemir eyed an almost terrified expression trying to escape a grim resignation. Chuckling lowly despite feeling sweat pouring down his forehead did an hand cup itself. Bringing it to his lips, he began whistling sharply which sounded akin to a hollowed out bird call strangely enough.

Figures rushed after them clearly hearing an unnatural noise as he continued just to hear a faint knocking behind their backs. Falonog roughly shoved a woman towards him, "Hold onto her, boy. I got some pent up words for these fuckers!" Striding forward did he clap loudly to scream out a drunkard's challenge, "Come you sneaky shits, big man's right here! Form a line and meet the Gods by my hands." It was a boast well rehearsed that made even a mercenary laugh momentarily in breaking his whistling, if just enough to keep breath in lungs.

Hooded men quickly got themselves through with short blades sticking out as crimson droplets leaked freely. About eight were encroaching forcing the three back near a corner, two buildings about two stories high were blockaded off by walls built previously. And yet Rhemir caught a window above slightly peaking as he whistled three times. It closed twice and that signaled an oddity for help, if to be answered positively.

"What you lot can't speak?" The beast of a man roared out a shrewd challenge waving them forward, "I'll skin you alive and wear your faces!" Boasting to them which drew several inching forward, Rhemir chimed in quite eagerly as well. In fact he savored their last moments, "Ever been strangled by your own innards before? I hear it's very good at choking the life out of ya." Almost a dozen hooded men were wedging them past a well as they only had an arm's length until the stone wall hit their backs. That's right, keep on coming right past those doors.

Hearing metal scrapping against a sheath made him look over in seeing a dagger being drawn somewhat loosely. Phaea had no skill in handling blades shorter than an arm length, but it was certainly something different from most in her place. Ladyship, and here I thought most were sold off being pawns to their fathers? I must have missed that part, or else I'd be shocked. Rolling both eyes momentarily until Falonog just stood in front of them, his back was shielding them and that gave him a chance to grin.

"Move your fat ass, now!" He barked out leering as a knife flipped accordingly and came streaking over catching one enemy clean in his chest. A yelp followed as all of them started rushing, or tried too until a voice screamed, "Cut'em down, boys!" Doors and windows slammed open with half haggard looking thuggish men screeching. Dozens poured from houses meant as safe havens for an entire gang's worth of cut-throats, they weren't cowards yet they weren't going to throw lives unless they had an advantage clearer than day itself.

Rocks, knives and half cracked swords came slamming into a group of would be killers. In hindsight it was nothing short of a brawling mess of limbs, screams and laughter akin to scavengers feasting on completely open game. Sheer numbers overwhelmed those caught off guard, as every man had their skulls caved in by mere rocks jaggedly sharpened. And blunted clubs smashed them further staining an entire clearing wrought with crimson ponds. Rhemir finally exhaled relieved leaning against a wall wiping down tremors to vomit due to adrenaline alone, it'd been far too long since nearly getting nicked across his neck.

"What in the..." Phaea's surreal sense of disbelief was met by his larger friend hunching over to vomit out of joy, "Oh...that ale is too good." He wiped away grim to leer at a woman who helplessly couldn't decide if they were indeed mad, or not. The slaughter lasted several minutes with constant stabs and clubs hounding twitching corpses until they stilled. Men and woman whose dirt covered faces, yellowed teeth all embraced cheering akin to wolves howling. Rhemir could relate in that sense of getting overabundance of weapons, armor or anything useful to secure them territory in others parts of Car Banseth.

"You took your sweet ass time, Snake-Eye." Rhemir yelled out tiredly when a man whose right eye was milk white grin crookedly. There was a scar akin to a serpent mainly from being caught robbing vendors many years ago, "Not like I knew you'd drop by, boy." Even his voice tingled on a hissing due to multiple scars along a throat, if only making him fairly durable. Yet it was a blessing in all but name for him truthfully.

Getting onto both feet swiping off dirt and snow respectively, "Figured you were in town, I'd have stopped by earlier but no one was around." Walking over did he hug the scared man who laughed in good sport, "You know my rule. Too bright, too gone." Car Banseth's populace had grown over years and eventually, it brought up those who knew how to win in the dark streets. And taxes were only a means to keep them away for some time.

"Whatever you get off them, it's your own to use." The youth waved off any usual circumstance to garner a whistle of shock, "Generosity? From you?" Rhemir raised a hand idly waving off the once in a month yearly goodness he couldn't shake away, "Gods cursed me as of late! So best be on their mercy, or else I'd have been them corpses."

The scarred gang leader laughed akin to hissing to let others of his group do as they pleased. Pulling down a cowl of his own to get fresh air onto damned hair, "Thanks for listening." He earnestly praised a man who began picking yellowed teeth with his own crude knife, "Don't think I'll do it next time, I've had a bone to pick with these new faces showing up. More by the day, more who think hunting us is good sport and I'm not one to deny a shank to their backs."

Falonog stumbled over belching loudly to scratch his beard happily, "Tethe didn't know them, so I think they're new boys. No guards wandering, I think they're rotting in that river." Snake-Eye didn't seem entirely impressed, "Ever since he got that whore, he going soft." Neither mercenary seemed to disagree considering they were nearly killed tonight, if not for quick thinking and knowing the streets they'd have been rotting by morning.

"Mind if we cut through your back door? We're getting out this city." Rhemir asked genuinely curious as the gang leader didn't mind too much, "Go for it, boy. Next time if you're around, I got a delivery for you to pick up on." Said youth laughed to sweeten a lasting impression, "Tell two of your men, I got a dozen swords. Take them off my hands, free of charge and I say we'll do some good business if I ever return to this place."

A crooked leer appeared with him humming contently, "Give ya four, they'll keep your asses clean and we'll see if the Gods help you too." Throughout their exchange only a wide eyed woman watched mercenaries and gangsters embrace fondly. If there was ever a sense of surreal disbelief, it'd occurred as Rhemir looked back to her. His expression seemed warmly inviting, if only to catch a glimpse of angered eyes which promised one thing. He would demand answers after losing nearly six men tonight as far as he was concerned.

Several hours later Rhemir sat partially up against a bedroll with an impressive fire being maintained as he spoke plainly, "How many aren't with us?" Falonog groaned due to water splashing against his face, if only to sober himself up to reply simply, "Eight. Including that farm boy, I guess he got a throat cut open inside that room if I had to guess. What a way to meet your end!"

Not even over forty strong when they were fifty, left a bitter taste bordering on him tapping one boot against each other furiously figuring out possible sources. Can't head back, or show my face in any village unless we cross borders. Only place I'd get more men, is either in Strugia or we come across those who'd be grateful to escape prison. And then there's...that. Cleaning finger nails with a knife's edge did he peer at Phaea's face being illuminated by fire as bone chilling winds swept through an entire camp which had been infected with paranoia.

"I'd have been impressed if they lived longer, don't you agree?" He asked mainly tracing a finger along one weapon's length as his Battanian friend leered, "Waste of time if they can't pay for themselves, boy. So whose paying the devil tonight?" Orange and yellow flirted within a pit as a smile pleasantly extended to draw attention. Phaea's gaze lingered on a glinting piece of metal, if only to grasp the dagger underneath furs and leather layers.

Quietly chuckling while shaking his head did he say who exactly, "Someone whose name is going to be worth more to keep us alive, if she speaks truthfully." Reddish hair got swept over constantly until he leaned over leering eagerly, "Lass!" Calling over to a woman who tensed up instantly, "Unless you want my nice touch to go away, what's the boy talking about? You going to tell me, or my axe when I shave your pretty hair off?"

Around them were smaller fires going with various groups of men who were armed in eying wood-lines, or kept ears open. None of them were sleeping at all, if at all possible given they'd lost ten of their own simply drinking away grimmer thoughts. Rhemir intentionally placed himself center of all groups to make sure someone he'd been eagerly awaiting to hear spill their guts, "Start talking." He told her kindly when rolling a knife's handle to spin it around one finger, "Or else I'll start doing it for you and I can say he won't like it."

Fire crackled angrily in realizing embers as they were swept up rapidly due to howling winds, "You'll kill me." Phaea determined eying for possible attacks as Rhemir laughed lightly, "Don't tempt me, I really wouldn't want to have a bounty on my head...if you're dead. Three thousand gold for my band, myself and everyone here dead." Falonog's brown eyes squinted when rumbling out despite tightening furs around him to keep warm, "Dead? Thought being alive was worth more!"

The noblewoman remained tight lipped especially as a pair of blues narrowed daringly bemused to seek her gaze elsewhere. If I really wanted your throat slit open, I'd have done it back inside Car Banseth. Despite traveling for hours, they had to rest and regain their bearings without exhaustively tempting panic among his company. And whether she tried hiding it, Rhemir wouldn't allow anymore horseshit inspired surprises creeping up anytime soon.

"I know your name, woman." A mercenary captain drew out in making her expression turn guarded, "Branco parted ways with a few pieces of information. And he warned me to my damned face, 'Run' when I left that tavern earlier tonight. And guess what what we did?" He gestured to various tired expressions of mercenaries who were keeping an ear open towards their fire. They all wanted some answers as to why they almost got killed over...her.

"Tell you what, Phaea." Rhemir proposed rather generously since it'd be a habit in early stages of learning, "You explain yourself, we'll set course to Epicrotea immediately. And then you tell us how much we'll earn for safeguarding your head." Furs were wrapped around himself while his horse who he'd been laying against nickered loudly due to winds. Absently raising a hand to brush off snow from it's head due to said animal lingering closer for warmth of a fire's radius. And the smell hardly mattered due to strong winds.

She didn't believe him outright to question harshly, "Why should I trust you to keep your word?" Falonog laughed loudly in response as if that were an idiot's humor, Rhemir cocked an eyebrow when pulling out parchment and carefully warmed ink to say otherwise. Thick headed doesn't give the Gods mercy for my sake, woman. Nodding over to the red haired Battanian who rolled over while gripping an axe handle of human bone, "Because lass, boy's got a good mind to keep track of jobs and makes us gold. And if he didn't, well...you'd be dead by me!"

Snow whipped across an entire clearing mainly due to loose drifts off tree's nearby. Yet it didn't change her expression at first, "I am no mere commoner you can bully into submission, barbarian." Rhemir counted inwardly to five until his brutish friend roared impressed, "Oh lass! Are ya one of them soft girls, or are you trying to get me hard over here? Barbarian is just a nice fancy word for beast, I can prove it to ya."

The younger captain blandly informed them quite fed up, "Get on with it. Insults don't work on him, I doubt he even cares what you'd come up with." This was going to be a trial and task worthy of legends if she didn't take a hint. Big words don't matter with him, he'll kill you like it was nothing. And I'm severely losing my patience with your horseshit, Lady.

A blond whose hair went down to her shoulders scowled bitterly due to his annoyance, "Dionicos. That is my family's name underneath my father, Crotor Dionicos." Both mercenaries looked to one another as a brutish man snorted, "Oh great! We have a lost Lady, and whose your mother's seed planter?" Rhemir coughed trying to feint laughter since he didn't honest know, but it caused indignation on their local noblewoman who stood upright. Apparently insulting family as akin to calling her an expensive whore for novices.

"How dare you..." The large man didn't even hesitate when an axe swept up in cleanly striking her legs as the blade had been far too overextended. And yet a wooden handle did itself service in seeing her stumble aside roughly, it made a Battanian get up stretching, "Shut it, or I take your leg off next time." Nonetheless seeing her get onto both knees scowling lividly made a younger mercenary inform her humorously, "I'd listen to him closely, if I were ever in your shoes. Friendly advice as I'd call it, your ladyship."

Phaea's dagger had been knocked aside for a larger man to idly kick it towards Rhemir's lazy posture. And he claimed it nimbly enough, "Please continue." Stabbing a dagger's length into frozen earth gave enough patience which faded quicker than fire itself. He wrote down several idle words in a bid to at least piece something coherent given their troubles. Branco's words were lingering fresher than ink drying in frigid temperatures.

Brushing herself clean to regain warmth did stem anger well enough, "My name is Phaea Dionicos, I was sent by my father to negotiate a truce with our northern kin. But I couldn't travel our border to them because of their internal disagreements. But I found out through spies Vlandia and Strugia are preparing for war on our western and northern borders. Battania would join in, if they gain ground if both of our countries are bled out enough." She looked right into a fire clenching both eyes shut knowing such information could lead those who'd end her potentially, an even better reason to ignore urgency.

"Tyal is where one army composed of several lords, or ladies will lead mercenaries congregating to attack our northern kin's east. And several large Strugian forces from their west, if Vlandia makes progress on our western front...they'll link up with Battanian armies, if they see us weaken." She explained plainly not bothering to go into details of where they'd precisely strike, it'd be a waste of time for these mercenaries to consider gold over safeguarding what remained of an Empire. A power that kept an entire world in check, if only to crumble into dust.

Rhemir casually wrote down mostly what she'd said to remark quite impressed, "War." She nodded to admit bitterly aware of her own inexperience, "I didn't see signs until father sent me a task. We were to sneak through Vlandia due to us having some loyal people, but I fear they were intercepted by our northern kin. Or to those backstabbing bastards who claim to have honor, but they'll sell themselves for gold like most." That gave enough credit considering she didn't know how, or if it mattered considering those plans were put into jeopardy because she'd been sprung free. And now their band was apart of grander schemes to mark them for death.

"Imperial folks like yourself, I think you don't realize how much you are hated." Falonog nonchalantly offered considering he'd been raised on those tales, "Strong in past, weak in present and now fucked for future." Rhemir's quiet chortling could be heard over crackling fire, if in agreement without being so direct in that sense. Yet it was true considering what was left of an Empire had all but been killing each other off.

Still this proved to be an enlightening situation that could make him a fortune either way. Gods, I'm already in a war. Aren't I? Leaning back while palming a dagger's handle lightly, "And did you know about a bounty? Or was three thousand just your way of saying to me, 'Help?'" He prodded somewhat curious to snicker as her eyes glared less than amused in being called an idiot. Words were just as dangerous as swords nowadays.

"Three thousand is a warning to those who want war, it'll go up every week until I'm in Epicortea to discuss a truce." Both mercenaries sputtered immediately due to that piece of alarming news. And it honestly wasn't flattering, "How much per week?" The largest among them demanded thrilled as Phaea sardonically admitted, "Double. But since we've been spotted, it'll be tripled considering I have 'guards' who are around me."

Men who'd overheard that nearby literally fell over stunned in hearing as whispers swept through most in an alarming fashion. Good thing I told them to keep ears open, they needed to know because I cannot believe it. Staring at numbers which he knew from consistently trading amounted to just two words, "Holy...shit." They weren't just in a war, their lives would be the start of a war and it all came down to who found them first.

"Didn't I tell you, boy?" A man laughed slapping his knees clearly enjoying their stroke of luck, "War is where we bathe in blood and gold. And we're wedged between two sides of an axe blade." He clapped hands far too enjoyed as Rhemir hardly shared that optimistic mindset. If they lived, war would be averted and if they died, they'd not be able to reap the rivers of gold to finally get themselves to places he'd planned on early in childhood.

Chewing over routes leading that far east wouldn't be an issue superficially. It'd be forests, choke-points and weather all battling for time's precious safety. Two weeks is normally a good pace, but at this rate it might be three. Or longer. And by that logic alone a bounty would be enough to pay an entire army's worth for several months. Give, or take if the Gods cursed him for having a keen mind to enjoy sweet bitter irony.

"Your blood shows who you are, captain." Rhemir almost bit a tongue due to Phaea smiling assured as scoffs ran amuck in camp, "No Sturgian, Battanian or Vlandian would gauge their actions. They would curse, scream or rave to their gods freely seeking vengeance. But I can see your decision, so tell me why would one of my kin be among these lands?" Ignoring those words proved far too easily done, if only yanking a dagger free of it's position. Absently flipping it over once, or twice did he throw it blade first to skid across snow at Phaea's feet.

Being reminded twice in several hours waned on humor for him to snarl faintly, "I've had enough about your esteemed views, your ladyship." Recalling one thing about her supposed party left little to have him leer quite intrigued, "But how do Hastati end up dead along a road? It's quite remarkable that those with marks of the legion were wiped out...underneath you." If he expected her to find offense it turned out quite shocking in making a soft laughter come forth.

Her hand covered an amused smile, "They were not legionaries sanctioned by us, or my kin. Your ignorance isn't surprising, but I will say they're a legion of betrayed men who considered most newer reforms, least not among my kin as damned traitors and cowards. Those who journeyed with myself were hoping to redeem their legacy, it was an honorable gesture for them to undertake to regain glory for selfless cause." Rhemir's eyes rolled again in favor to ignore a smug mood unknowingly fed to internal suspicions. If she wasn't convinced beforehand, well he'd just handed it to be her on a silver platter.

Yes, how fascinating! Why do you bother tell me of tales I care nothing about? Silently evaluating roads didn't help until pulling out a ragged map from his horse's saddle. Leaning against both leather and animal did wonders to appease a chill within himself, "Where did your family hail from, captain? You sound similar to those I've heard many times among my own home."

The mercenary born far to the east grunted yet remained silent as a graveyard. At least until Falonog chimed in grinning akin to a blood thirsty wolf, "Come on boy! Tell her, I sure as hell with the gods know you're not shy about it. Or are ya..." He trailed off in alleviating tension when walking over to one group of soldiers as coins started exchanging with promises. Laughter both devious in natures, or born from twisted humor started up in earnest to his silent smouldering anger. It was not a subject he'd willing give to this woman of all people.

"Why are you quiet about sharing blood of those who've built the greatest power this world has ever seen?" Phaea questioned harshly not refusing to lose pride as his own gaze narrowed impeccably not so amused, "Built? You mean lost." That last word was snarky, more so it outright tinged on him quite aware know he got a small picture of a fractured power to disdainfully make it obvious, "For almost thirteen years, I lived among those who called Rovalt home and I've lived where few like your kind know what it means to value secrecy. The only thing we share is that you're paying gold, now let's get to the real reason if you wish to live by next month...your ladyship."

Anger rightfully ignited an old memory along roads as a child when neither of his parents spoke in why they left. His elder brother would explain years later after his father and mother fell ill from plagues running freely in fields. And it'd been a relief to hear it, "What of glory? Honor and vision to do good in this world, mercenary?" She retorted fiercely to make him scoff cruelly to point towards darkened woods covered in icy white, "You're looking at it." She hardy understood how easy it'd be in dumping her off in some unknown grave.

"Don't preach since you cannot accept that's just a nice way to wash blood off your hands, a nice way to think swords are just but they're only tools made by a smith who gave himself everything." Instead of ignoring a fury within his veins did an action of drawing one lone long-sword in having it settle over a shoulder. He angled it where once pristine steel had cracked, if only to be reformed with iron giving it an ugly appearance. My father may have been a stern bastard, but he knew to teach his son a sword is only as good as one who remakes it. And I intend to make my own, I want to see them cut every man who thinks they're not killers. It was old history, it'd take time yet sometimes it never seemed to die off for good.

"Falonog!" Rhemir's voice rang out sharply in drawing attention from most since they rarely heard a youth sound so cold, "Get watches up! At first light, we're heading to her ladyship's destination and if she doesn't pay us. We'll see if blood runs freely in war, before gold follows." That was a promise that made even a Lady of lands stare defiantly back at a pleasant smile. It was what many a smile worthy of what many called, a rare trait and this was a smile for a devil that walked among many in men.

Two days of travel still hadn't been able to cool off simmering liquid inside his veins. The source would be sitting outside a supply cart with one bearded member of his company. Normally two would be switching off reins, but since the veteran's equivalent of a recruit had been killed. It fell upon that alone soul to deal with a witch invoking temptation to slit her throat. And he praised the gods for that man to endure daily in their graces.

"I haven't seen you angry in months, Rhemir." Another source ever picking at a festering wound for patience didn't aid him in any manner, "That lass of a Lady. She's not one to let old skeletons remain buried, I think." The reddish beard trailing past an entire neckline tilted upward in drinking ale from one pouch almost indifferently. Yet an axe handle kept spinning a blade capable to cut any unfortunate man into several chucks of reddish meat.

Easing his horse to slow down to a walking pace did he admit, "I told you the gods have cursed me as well as your love of gambling!" Lowly chuckles muffed by ale only improved one of their moods to humoring amusement, "And it's a gift, as you'd say boy. Pretty little thing, I'd say enough to make most men want a bout with her in that dress. Got a mouth on her, so good for taking down that thing between your legs if you want to win some gold."

Rhemir eyed a pouch quite keenly to say, "Have you been drinking that piss for ale all day? Again?" He stressed undeniably impressed said man still could march soberly, "Nothing much to say, or talk about boy. Most of them marching behind are pretty high strung, if what you said to them is happening ahead of us. Almost twenty thousand on all our heads, I wish I weren't us to get that much of an easy killing for someone's purse."

The mounted youth couldn't deny that wistful fantasy to comment blandly, "Why did I stop on that damned road?" It certainly would make one regret doing good will, "Because we're better at seeing idiots killing each other." Falonog offered mainly to get them both to laugh quietly, it technically was true in his mind's eye. Soon it'd be dusk given they had a few more hours, if cloud cover made sunlight somewhat dimmer than usual.

Strugia is considerably closer, I am half tempted to hand her off to them! But I damn well know, if I do so then that bounty sticks because of her life. Dumping a poison sooner seemed wiser, but only if it kept them alive longer than those who administrated it. It was certainly an irritating decision given neither option helped, or promised them time to live longer. Yet as he continuously tried finding ways out, it honestly became too damned clear for him to admit it.

"That Strugian contract will get us killed." He decided upon taking out parchment to cross it off in marking it as worthless, "Even if we somehow get there, if what she says is true? Strugia and Vlandia lords seeking war would get it, if they catch us and kill us all." Falonog eyed him momentarily undisturbed to point out slyly, "Who says we have to fight for them? Seems like all the gold coin is being split up...except for one place in a war. There's always two sides to a battlefield, boy if you're willing to fight familiar faces."

Rhemir paused momentarily to glance down at a man who managed to reach his thighs, "You terrify me sometimes with that drunkard wit! You know that?" It certainly did wonders for his own sanity to know a larger man who knew how to split others into pieces, "Gold and blood is where I find my axe on someone's skull. I need teeth for a necklace, I think it suits me like it'd suit you for someone fucking you senseless. You get strung up too quickly, boy!"

Flatly referring to yet another betting pool made him snark out, "Maybe I should have our ladyship scream my name a few times and you fucks pay me more!" A Battanian's grin bordered on sheer savage glee, "Who said it had to be her? I meant a whore!" Rhemir gnashed his teeth when a powerful slap made due with bellowing enjoyment. He only looked back towards several smirking men until holding up five fingers, if only to pat his chest confidently.

Gods, I knew it! A long trip, I'll loathe it until I am dead! He vowed silently to go over a map for once in peaceful solitude. Absently mapping out distances with him tapping a feathered tip against parchment didn't change vast distances. If winter didn't outright destroy decent pacing, it'd be a long journey and just getting out of Battania would be quicker. If border patrols don't spot us, or if those who supposedly want you dead, Phaea.

Between being effectively hunted by those in these lands as well as back in a place he'd considered home didn't bode well. Rhemir idly kept crossing off potential places normally utilized, or occupations meant to keep his band of mercenaries under reasonable alternatives. Until this is all sorted out, I can't keep losing so many in such a short amount of time. Only way to clear this up, or use it is getting to the northern Imperials. Lightly tracing roads while trying to gauge any side trails proved increasingly complicated, if a given lack of being further east left very little familiarity in spending two years to garner means of income.

"Traversing through these lands bypassing roads might do us a favor." He considered sitting up right in saddle to groan tiredly in eying mountainous terrain which had been covered by snowy forest tops, but it eventually ended into lower plains eventually. Or stick to roads, scavenge off peasants and patrols. Wouldn't be too difficult since no witnesses, means no rumors for others to pick up on. Unfortunately time kept on racing to make every week a potential bounty force him into extremes he dabbled into before, if not just of sheer convenience to remain living.

Inevitably he'd decide since it'd been another few days until the border came up with crossings. They continued along for another league's worth of travel until founding a camp would be needed considering cold bit into their flesh, "Start making camp at this clearing." He pointed along a streams bank that wasn't entirely frozen over, "And give us a leg's warning. We don't need visitors coming to cut our throats when we sleep."

Falonog gruffly chortled to comment when raising an axe and sharply waving it to halt an entire company's worth of men, "Haven't used those tricks for several weeks. Expecting someone to sneak into your bed, boy?" Rhemir merely pointed up at tree canopy's leaning over due to excessive icy as a fading sun got him to smirk, "I'm more worried about someone jumping into my bed. Sneaking is just an idiot's way of telling us otherwise."

Supply carts carrying their food storage, gear and among other needs started being aligned normally spaced out. Yet he kicked his horse's side firmly to have it trot over, "Form a wedge between us along the road's edge and on this stream. Set fires on both sides of it with two on watch to get some height in seeing wood-lines." Several of his own saluted accordingly when he got down off a mount that would be tended too. She's incredibly thirsty, this cold is dry as a desert and it'll only get worse with valleys making winds sharper than a knife's tip.

Most of their horses were older yet still sturdy to haul around huge weights as long water kept being given frequently. The stream itself may have been wider than most, but it fed downward flow towards a larger body of some small lake. Fish. As long as they traveled along roads, it'd be easier to secure food without wasting too much besides patience. Winter tended to make those creatures sluggish, if only baiting with food made them actively easier to catch. Though in time during spring it'd be a bountiful time for rods, harpoons, reels and hooks alike.

Approaching those who sat down catching their breath as well get feeling into their hands, "Groups of five and stay armed, at all times. Careful in gathering wood, we're all dead men now." Grinning as a few mercenaries laughed keenly aware they were indeed walking coin pouches, "We'll keep eye on these newer ones, captain. Some of us are worth the gold you pay!" A man commented cheekily as Rhemir lightly kicked snow in making them jolt aside laughing entirely in jest. Falonog wasn't lying since most were entirely anxious, or too paranoid at times.

Among roving groups who were setting up bed rolls between two lines of carts, a lone Lady sat with hands together merely watching. She didn't seem outwardly confused, or interested except glancing around surveying an entire camp's perimeter. Pairs of men lightly joked who got first watch, if only to groan when a coin got offered for others to take their place. Yet there was a lack of eased attitudes due to some remaining in armored padding, or stuffed helmets to wear them throughout an entire night's rest at a moment's notice. Overall she seemed incredibly comfortable given a dagger remained attached to her hip whenever men of his party passed by undisturbed.

And now the gods curse me, I actually have to keep her relatively safer. Walking across an entire camp coming to a slow pace did her gaze settle on him sternly. Before he could even say anything Phaea's voice tone tinged on a commanding demand, "I will not wear such fragile clothe in this cold, captain. I require anything that I can wear for armor, after I bathe myself." Rhemir's jawline tightened since this wouldn't be changing anytime soon in his mind's eye.

A dress's lower half had been completely torn asunder where it'd been tightly wrapped, "I'm sure I have pieces lying about, if eight men I once had were living." He drew out less than happily despite not outright denying it'd suit his own needs entirely, "And as for bathing?" A gloved finger pointed downstream towards a lake whose waters were noticeably colder than normal, "That way! Freeze your self to death, if stink is worth your life."

She lightly dropped off a cart's seating curtly demanding him, "Do you not have heated water? I will not lower myself to bathe in open view in front of so many...deviants." The mercenary youth wasn't going to humor what exactly this Lady meant by heated waters. Yet he suggested quite plainly, "Start a fire, heat some rocks to throw in pool of ice and maybe light yourself within it if we had oil to make it hotter, your ladyship." He shook his head in sheer disbelief, as if they were civilized folk inside some castle's interior, "Gods really...heated water?"

What in the name of gods curses in which did that seem possible? It's so frigid besides strong winds, any water freezes and you think heated water is something I have just inside a cart because of privacy? They didn't haggle pottery, or have smithy's capable to iron out platter for home comforts? And who in their right minds believed heated water would be easy, or less so to not give away their position to require some large fire pits? And considering half of this forest was frozen, it'd be damn near impossible to humor it.

Phaea's expression turned disgusted in suggesting she'd burn herself willingly, "Do you have not have iron pots?" Rhemir wasn't humoring demands to a point where he thumbed back towards one supply cart grinning, "We have a wooden bucket, it keeps warmer waters for those who can't piss properly though." Her fist clenched tightly around a dagger when he began walking away not even trying to deal with a Lady's ideal sense of bathing. If she wanted to survive among them, he'd have her do it without driving them all absolutely mad for thinking they were an army of dedicated soldiers meant to cater to her words alone.

"Captain!" She sternly barked out supposedly a rank which even seemed loose to imagine, "We're not a hunting party, Phaea." He spoke over a shoulder grinning, "We fish, if we're lucky and make fires to cook meats with plenty of ale. Washing...is us in warmer weather, in a river or pond." Laughing loudly to walk away in seeing her glare bordering on furious indignation. Perhaps there would be some joy in this curse he'd found himself granted, if someone enjoyed her misery it'd make the journey into northern Imperial lands ever so sweeter.

End Chapter II

Author's Note: Couple things to note, especially pertaining to the soon to be in-depth remarks about ethnic slang going around. The nations in game, I do believe are very distinct considering these people know who is who, it's fairly easy for them comparing how one acts, does and appears amidst many who are their own identity. Case in point, the Imperials, there's an impression at their peak, they are cunning, vicious, and absolutely self-controlled to utilize their greatest strengths into forces unrivaled...Caladric Empire as a parallel to the Eastern Romans after Rome itself was splintered, fractured and fell into a mix of peoples who took over the Italian peninsula wiping out who were 'Roman' given there's very traces of them even in the modern day. More, or less I'm not an expert or even competent about genetics save that modern folk don't have what our ancestors had thousands of years ago, too many conflicts, migrations and other factors do delude it based on sensible assumption.

Also considering lore wise, Vlandia broke off and became their own kingdom, nation as the elder Empire splintered into the scenario we start off witnessing. Similar in appearance yet vastly different culturally to a point where Rhemir is not exactly hidden. He can act slyly, but that's a problem given there's plenty of historical aggression pertaining to the nations viciously sinking their teeth into Imperial lands due to past...interactions. It's all give, or take, adding in some plausible animosity which is fairly prevalent in our time, so I have a sense someone's already seething for me proving them wrong. Now, moving onto our dear band of mercenaries who are now in what I call, a fairly reasonable plot with a lot at stake.

War is not simply declared, there's preparations and causes needed for such resources being mobilized. The game is fairly geared for quick shifts, but in practice, I'd imagine it's all but a trigger needed for someone to enact their decision. We don't often witness, or rather there's very little pay-off in certain aspects of this game that I tend to feel were cheaply ignored, or simply were lazy by the developers for others to give more in-depth mechanics. Having friends in low places, now that is ideally what is needed if one is get out of a hostile city, considering there's a similar power-play in each city comparing to the Lords and Ladies of the Realm. Save the fact in terms of scale, dangers and resources...even the Slavers do not risk much when seeing loose ends for what is potentially coming, that could make them richer, if not lose their heads.

So this issue is simply lighting the spark for war, and wouldn't you know it? We have one in others noticing movement, swords are being bought up, gathered and now with assassins, trackers or whatever on your trail? Choices will be made, tension and anxiety are only natural, for we have a ticking timer until something gives. This is how war begins, with maneuvering, observations and once one side blinks...gold shall flow when blood runs freely. And at least in this story, it does what the game fails to really enact when leading mercenaries into any conflict, there's no build up, or tension beyond a snap decision that is randomly generated. Now imagine if your the western Empire...you have three nations bordering your east, one in the north and among them all, only one is a quarreling kin of your own, would you stretch the hand to at least give yourself more time, or risk something far worse occurring?

Nonetheless, leave a review and we'll what happens on my next update.