Chapter 6 The Newt's Judgment
Henry Hotspur awoke feeling rested and calm, his attempt to talk things out further with the prince the night before having been intercepted by Iamarl. "You need to relieve some pressure." the assassin had said. Hotspur wasn't above admitting that she'd been right, or that he very much approved of her methods. He was a bit disappointed to find that he was alone in his bed, but didn't begrudge Iamarl. His lover was nothing if not dutiful.
The young knight sighed and pulled himself out of bed to his feet, pulling his cloths back on and then tying on his sword belt. Henry then made his way into the hall intent on making his way to the dining hall for breakfast. He'd only gone a few steps when he noticed several archers rush by. "What's going on?" the concerned knight called after them.
"There's a large French host comin' toward the castle, sir." One archer stopped just long enough to reply before following after his friends. Henry briefly wondered if he had time to dawn his armor, but decided against it and followed after the archers.
Hotspur moved quickly through the halls until finally making his way onto the battlements. Upon learning the French were mainly gathering at the main gate, he nevertheless made sure that defenses elsewhere were adequate and moved down to the courtyard to cut across to main gate. He was halfway there when the gate opened and a contingent of French troops cautiously marched in.
As the French commanders entered, Henry noticed the prince and Chandos approach, with Joan in tow. Before Henry could speak, Chandos stepped forward and said "It was the girl's idea."
Henry watched Joan rush up to the other French leaders, apparently good friends, and was lifted off her feet in an affectionate embrace by the big polesword commander. "So I see," The knight remarked. "We're allied to the French now?"
"We need reinforcements, Percy," Edward reasoned, "We've lost more men in the last few days then in the two months before that. Teaming with the French gets us the troops we need...awkward though the arrangement may be."
Hotspur shifted on his feet, everything the prince and Chandos were saying made sense, but the young knight disliked the idea of teaming with a kingdom his homeland had been at war with since before his father had been born. "...I'll trust your judgment, my prince...but I don't like this."
Edward nodded gratefully, "That's all I can ask."
#*#*#
Ilsa marched beside Magnus at the head of his swordsmen, her landsknechts and William's spearmen behind them. The German girl had been getting as much information as she could from the young Irishman as they marched. Magnus shared that she'd have to club skeletons rather than trying to stab them, and what other tidbits he'd learned. Ilsa in turn, told him about the trick she'd used against the Cyclops.
Finding they'd run out of things to talk about, Ilsa conversationally asked, "Vat's your homeland like, Magnus?"
"Ireland? Oh, it's beautiful, The Emerald Isle we call it. I grew up in a little village near Dublin." Magnus was silent for a while, a nostalgic look crossing his face, "And fine people too, no better tribe ever lived then the Irish." Ilsa chuckled "It's true, if God hadn't invented whiskey, the Irish would rule the world."
"Preist Gott in seiner Weisheit."* Ilsa quipped
*Praise God in his wisdom
"How bout you, Ilsa?" Magnus said turning to her, "What's your native land like?"
"Hamburg is a great city, bigger den any city in France." Ilsa shrugged, "Except maybe Paris. Very well off und modern."
"A city girl? Never would of guessed." the mercenary captains shared a chuckle. Looking back to Ilsa, Magnus's eyes settled on her massive zweihander "How are you able to carry that thing? Much less swing it around."
"Mein father taught me." Magnus noticed a mixed nostalgic and troubled look come over Ilsa's face at the mention of her father, but before he could comment they both noticed a battered man coming down the road.
The refugee froze upon seeing the mercenaries and nervously backpedaled away from them. "Don't 'urt me!"
Ilsa and Magnus exchanged confused looks. Turning back to the man, Magnus began to speak. "We're not gonna-"
"'ere! 'ere's my money!" the black eyed refugee tossed a small bag at the mercenaries' feet, "Just take it! Take it and leave me alone!"
One of the Irish swordsmen shrugged and stepped forward to collect the bag of denier, only to be slapped on the shoulder by Magnus. After fixing his man with a stern glare, he turned back to the worried refugee. "Sir, we're not gonna hurt you and we don't want to take your gold."
The refugee looked at them with confusion and disbelief. "Ze group I was with, we were attacked by a troop of mercenaries. Zey killed some of us, took what zey could get zier 'ands on."
"Dat's not us," Ilsa said stepping up beside Magnus, "Ve set up a safe place for refugees, just follow da road und you'll find it."
"And tell the commander your story." Magnus added, "He should know some mercenary troops have turned bandit."
The nervous man hesitated for a few moments, then finally nodded his head. He stepped to the side of the road to allow the mercenaries to pass, a few of them throwing reassuring looks his way. It was William who briefly stopped to return the man's money.
The mercenaries continued from there, some muttering about the idea of their fellows turning to banditry. Ilsa was happy to hear most of them were disgusted, but there were still more then she'd of liked who were open to the idea. After several uneventful minutes they came upon a small village, with several people gathered on the outskirts. The closer they got the better they could hear the villagers' crazed shouting.
Just when the fighters could clearly make out shouts of "Burn 'er!" and "Witch!", Ilsa noticed a beautiful Indian woman being dragged along by the mob. "Oh hell, that's Shakti!" Magnus rushed forward as he spoke.
Ilsa followed, noticing several Rajput warriors being restrained by the villagers, and soon she and her comrades found themselves facing down an angry mob. With too much noise to hear anything, the small dopplesoldier turned to Magnus and shouted, "Bang your sword against your shield!"
Magnus did as Ilsa commanded, several of his men following suit, and managed to make enough noise to get the crowd's attention. Magnus nodded to Ilsa and took a step toward the villagers. "What the hell do you people think you're doing?!"
One of the villagers stabbed a damning finger at Shakti and said "Zis woman is a witch! She's in league with ze beasts zat attacked us!"
"I suppose she turned you into a newt as well," Magnus shot back.
"We're gonna give ze witch what she deserves!" a woman in the crowd shouted. This was followed by several shouts of agreement.
"Aw, guys." William timidly said, but was silenced by a gesture from Magnus.
"Let Shakti and her men go." the young Irishman ordered.
"Or what?" the newt shot back, "You'll attack us, like ze monsters?"
"It's alright, Magnus," Shakti spoke for the first time, "If I die here, it's simply my time to fulfill the cycle of life and death."
"Not helping!" Magnus grumbled.
"Guys," William spoke up again.
"Not now, Villiam!" Ilsa said sternly, "Vhat even makes you think she's a vitch?"
"MONSTERS!" William finally shouted. Everyone present turned to west, following William's pointing arm and, sure enough, a force of goblins and skeletons were rushing toward the village. (One of the landsknechts then smacked William upside the head for not speaking up sooner.)
Magnus began to move, but was held back by Ilsa, "Let Shakti go!" she ordered.
"What?" the newt asked in surprise.
"Let Shakti go or ve'll let da monsters do vhat dey vant to you," Ilsa glanced at the approaching monsters and back at the newt, "Ve don't have much time."
The newt hesitated for a few moments before frantically drawing a small knife from his belt and cutting the Indian mercenary's bonds. "Zere, now kill zose beasts, please!"
The mercenaries rushed to intercept the monsters, including Shakti's company to Ilsa's surprise. As she rushed up to face a skeleton warrior, the German girl remembered what Magnus had told her and flipped her zweihander around to hold it by the blade. She bashed the first skeleton with a mighty swing, shattering its skull. She used her weapon's cross guard to hook another skeleton's weapon and yank it forward. The skeleton stumbled after its halbert and fell face down, whereupon Ilsa brought the pummel of her weapon down on the base of its skull. As a third skeleton rushed at her, Ilsa was struck with an idea; keeping her sword level, she grabbed the handle and thrust it into her skeletal attacker's ribs. The bone warrior looked down at the blade as if in confusion as Ilsa shifted her stance and grip on the zweihander. Pushing with all her might, Ilsa flipped the skeleton up and over her head, slamming the flailing enemy into the ground skull first with a satisfying crunch.
Looking around, Ilsa was impressed as she saw the brutally efficient Rajput warriors slice their way through the goblins. The monsters had clearly been expecting an easier fight, the goblins where already beginning to break. The apparently mindless skeletons, on the other hand, seemed content to fight to the end.
Nearby, Magnus faced off with a larger than normal skeleton. The swordsmen reversed the roles of his weapons, attacking with his shield and blocking with his sword. He guided the bone fighter's polearm away from himself and countered with his shield, bashing his enemy in its skeletal face. Not letting up, Magnus continued to literally beat his opponent's skull in. Finally, the big skeleton's skull shattered and the rest of the thing suddenly compressed together into a tight bundle. Around the small battlefield the other skeleton warriors also compressed, their weapons clattering harmlessly to the ground and confused mercenaries cautiously regarding the bundles.
With the battle having died down, Ilsa looked to see the few remaining goblins being cut down by the Rajputs and moved to intervene. She blocked Shakti's sickle sword from disemboweling the final goblin, earning the stocky girl a confused look from both. "Ve had a request to bring one in alive." Ilsa explained. She punched the little monstrosity's lights out and gave a quick order in German to her landsknechts to hogtie the creature.
The four mercenary leaders gathered while their men secured the area, some curiously pocking at the compacted skeletons. "You think Christine would like to pock at one of those bone piles as well?" Magnus wondered.
"Worth a shot," Ilsa said with a shrug.
"What do we do about this village?" William asked, "The camp around the tavern isn't big or fortified enough to move all these people in."
"My men and I can stay and safeguard this village." Shakti said evenly.
"Vhat?! After dey vere gonna burn you?" Ilsa nearly shouted.
"That is in the past."
"Da past of about a half hour ago!" Ilsa persisted.
"Even so, it is behind us, and there's no point in dwelling on it." Shakti said evenly.
"It would be smart to expand our territory," Magnus argued, "We can fight the monsters off until we rot, but they'll just keep coming back if we don't take back the countryside."
"Alright den," Ilsa sighed, she still wasn't too eager about helping the newt and his lot, but Magnus made a good point. "Me und Magnus will go back and inform da general, you two stay here und protect this village. I'll see if ve can spare any more troops to come und help."
With the plan agreed upon, the mercenaries split up and Ilsa and Magnus headed back to the makeshift base camp with a hogtied goblin in tow.
#*#*#
Joan, la Hire, and de Rais followed Prince Edward and his top commanders into the castle's war room. There was clear line of segregation between the two groups of commanders, with Joan and her friends trailing slightly behind the English. Entering the war room, the two groups stood across the table from one another. Edward leaned on the table, displeased at how much of his weight he had to put on it and spoke. "In light of the threat posed by these monsters, I would suggest that we put our war behind us, at least for the time being, do you agree?"
de Rais, who'd always acted as the de facto leader of the trio, met the prince's gaze easily and nodded. "I agree, zese creatures are a much greater threat to France zen you lot ever were." He looked over his shoulder at la Hire, the big man glanced at the English then back to his friend and nodded. Beside de Rais, Joan smiled, happy that her friends were willing to cooperate.
The next several hours where spent compiling troop numbers, figuring which strongholds were worth defending, and discussing strategy. A great deal of information the two sides would normally protect with their lives was revealed during the meeting. Both sides attempted to be cordial, but there was nevertheless an uncomfortable formality born of their very recent hostilities. All throughout de Rais had demonstrated a surprisingly good knowledge of the monsters.
At long last, the gathered officers decided they'd done all that they could for the evening. Allowing himself a weary sigh, Edward turned to Joan and her friends, "The three of you are welcome to stay here in castle, your officers as well."
Seeing la Hire and even de Rais look hesitant, Joan stepped up and said. "I did promise you two drinks in ze English headquarters after ze last battle."
Reactions from the English ranged from irritated (Hotspur) to amused (Branwyn). la Hire cracked a smile, "True enough. Perhaps zis once you'll join us in trying something a little stronger?"
"I doubt it," Joan said with a good natured smile, "But stranger zings 'ave 'appened."
#*#*#
In Champaign, near a crossroads, there sat a small but well-fortified outpost. It had been built by the French, but had changed hands many times in the endless war between France and England, usually at great cost. Fittingly enough, the French were the last humans to occupy it, the blue clad soldiers who'd been guarding the outpost now impaled on spikes around the gates. Inside, goblins milled about; inattentively watching for attackers, sharpening weapons, preforming other menial tasks, or simply relaxing.
Standing beside a pig carcass hanging from a chain over a fire, an apron wearing goblin hatched charred meat from the pig with a clever and handed it off to his comrades waiting in line. Upon receiving his ration, one goblin warrior seemed displeased. He held his slab of pig meat up to the cook, complaining about its size and quality in the goblins' indecipherable language. The cook angrily shot back that he'd take what he got or nothing at all. Behind the discontent fighter, other hungry goblins were getting impatient.
Before the argument could continue the cook and angry goblin were struck by arrows in the left and right eye respectively. The goblins still in the chow line, and elsewhere in the outpost, recoiled in shock and surprise. The frantically looked around only to spot Fastolf and de Richemont sitting calmly atop their horses at the head of several armed and stone faced human warriors.
"Good evening, gents." Fastolf called, "Lovely evening for a fight."