Where Alliances Are Made
Two months had passed since Setther and his mercenary army had begun the war on the Black Hand. In this time, the army had grown slightly larger. Half a dozen new archers joined the group, as well as a score more warriors. All had been picked up at small villages that the Black Hand had razed.
By now the veteran mercenaries had become far more experienced in combat, and they were no longer running training dills in between marches and battles. The only ones who needed combat training were the new recruits. Peerha made sure that he was always there whenever Setther trained them up. As usual, Setther was rough and highly unfair.
"Wield that sword like you mean it kid. Now come at me again!" he roared.
The 'kid' was actually a 35 year old Breton man. Setther was calling him a kid because the man had never taken sword in hand before, making him seem like a child. The man furrowed his brow, obviously angered. He charged forward to attack Setther. The Nord merely parried and wacked him viciously upside the head with the blunt of his claymore.
"Useless! Keep practicing with your partner, if he can put up with it." Setther grumbled, stalking off in his usual bad-tempered manner.
Peerha had watched this rather uncomfortably from the sidelines. He'd simply been sitting on a rock, eating lunch and watching the training. He shook his head, side deeply, and handed his food to Tactus, whom he'd befriended recently.
"Off to help another one eh?" Tactus asked.
"You weren't much different from him. Remember that." Peerha pointed out as he went to greet the Breton.
"But I was much better looking." Tactus murmured to himself.
As Peerha was walking towards the Breton, the man once again began to spar with his partner. The Breton charged forward and swung for the other's legs. He blocked the blow and flicked his sword up to the Breton man's chest. Defeated.
When Peerha reached them, they both stopped. The victor, whom was also a new recruit, but obviously used to combat, relaxed as he greeted them. The Breton held his head down, as if expecting to get chewed out again.
"Greetings." the Breton did nothing, the other nodded. "Might I have time to work with him sir?"
"Fine with me. I might actually get to eat something this time. Jekhel here keeps holding me back."
The man walked away with a smirk. Once he was out of earshot, and when the Breton had decided to speak, he said, "That guy is like a miniature version of Setther."
"I'd noticed." Peerha replied.
"So your that guy I heard about. The one who helps us 'maggots' out. The one who holds the real power around here." the man added this last part in softly.
"Where did you hear that?" Peerha said, curiosity peaked.
"I hear lots of things. See some things too. And from what I've heard and seen, there's two people running this show. Setther and you. Setther knows how to fight the Black Hand, knows where to find them. But he's ruthless you see. If you can't fight worth a squat like me, then your nothin' but meat to him. Nothin' but fodder. But if your a good warrior, or you follow orders to it's exactness, he likes you yeh see. And with Setther, things are very good for you if Setther likes you."
"That's interesting. Anything more?" Peerha was very intrigued now.
"With you, we're all on the same level. We're all equal, and you take time with people like me, help us out-"
"And I still intend to."
"-and help us improve. Your a good man. Some people like those qualities in a man. Some people are just damn thankful for what you've done. Now, if your also a smart man, you'll see that there is a definite split between power. Those people that are in on Setther's slightly better side have allied themselves with Setther. Those that admire you, or respect you, have allied themselves with you. Now these alliances aren't being put into affect yet. But that's because you still follow Setther. When you split apart from Setther, those on your side will follow."
"You've concluded all of this in how long?"
"Two days."
"Not bad at all. I can see why you can't wield a blade. You were a spy. For whom I don't care, but if it pleases you, I'd like you to be my spy. Keep me informed on anything I should know about. Would you do that for me."
"I admire and respect you. You already have my eyes and ears. But if yeh want me blade, I think that helping me out part would be handy right about now." Jekhel said.
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Peerha trained up Jekhel as best he possibly could. It was rigorous, as Jekhel was near inept with a blade. But when the next battle came, not only did Jekhel survive, but he'd tallied a few kills of his own.
In return, Jekhel kept Peerha informed about everything. Who was loyal to whom, and how many either leader had on their side. He was also very adept at reading all the signs the Black Hand left behind, and predicted where they went. Sometimes, Jekhel had it figured out before even Setther himself. This skill was something Peerha had not expected of him, and something that would prove very useful to him as well. With Jekhel's skills, Peerha would no longer need Setther to lead him around and fight the Black Hand. All he would need, in fact, was Setther's troops. With them, he could win the war. Without, they would be cut in half and weak. But until that time came, they would wait it out. It was all a matter of time.