Mount and Blade II: Bannerlord

Imperial Resolution

"Nothing is slower than the true birth of a man." -

Publius Aelius Hadrianus

Chapter III

The descending water sent icy prickling sensations running down a spinal column as it soon came into contact with heated skin. Shivering strongly, Phaea Dionicos knelt down allowing water in rinsing hair clean of days worth grim and bloodied knots, fiercely cleansing herself to ward off reminders of captivity. Gnashing her teeth tightly after painstakingly taking minutes did little as night fell rapidly over distant valleys looming above. Behind sounds of men talking and chattering gave her a semblance of private time for personal usage. Or rather, in an ironic awareness in the lack of having them around made it slightly unnerving, she'd been aware of her supposed value to them.

Around half frozen, or snow covered tree's creaked around with branches snapping off due to icy weight as waves slightly broke free from frozen sheets. Some voice arose cheering due to some sort of bout, "Knock his teeth out!" She heard echoing with laughter following, if consumption of excessive liquid that these backwards woodsmen considered ale. Uncivilized vermin! No more than beasts who struck down those who they'd never fight in open fields, and I must rely on them until I reach my northern kinsmen. Even if it were revolting and utterly loathsome, it'd be necessary to give praises to the heavens for at least ending up out of that shit hole for captivity.

Behind a torn up dress did little to conceal her nudity while trying to settle in waist deep waters. Her body grew dangerously numb until bracing to dip herself under icy pin prickling waves. Inhaling slightly she dove under briefly, if only emerging with teeth chattering to make haste away. Chattering teeth betrayed her will to rapidly cover herself and begin gradually trying retaining heat, if only to fail due to unmerciful winds whipping across open spaces between forests. Bastard traitor, why are you among those who hate your blood...captain?

What little fur pelt's she carried were woefully not meant for outside elements yet none assisted her when she'd been adamant. Ever since awakening to be in the care, or possible mercy of mercenaries who'd been full of those that wouldn't have spared her any at all. Battanian and Vlandian alike were no different from scavengers who spat on their word to those who'd made them submit in centuries past when the Empire had been whole. And yet perhaps not had been totally hopeless as sticks snapped underneath someone's feet.

A pair of eyes not as prominently blue akin to her own seemed to express exasperation, "You are daft in that brain of yours, if taking a dip in that is sanity." The youth rolled his gaze despite holding a partially burning torch, "Get up. And follow me over here." Shivering violently where a small fire's flames licked upwards between cleared out trees. It'd been done intentionally, if not well positioned so she wouldn't have seen eyes on her so easily.

You may be among savages, oath breakers and those who blood isn't worth yet you stand out too easily Rhemir. Despite having an aloof expression mainly, Phaea hadn't been blind to how much this mercenary shared a similar kinship with her own people. He spoke differently for obvious signs, far more drastically then those brutes or less educated brawlers, always to some degree acted keenly as opposed to blindly rushing into danger and they all looked to him for leadership. Whether he denied it, or not, she wager it wasn't so different compared to those who were raised in strict Imperial military conducts. A crude reflection of discipline imposed for effective soldiers, if I had to place similarities.

Getting onto both feet proved slightly difficult considering numbed limbs ached internally. Even if she made no move to ask for assistance, Rhemir's impatient groan only settled on herself to notice there was a trace of civility. You may hide your blood, but your family raised you as a proper man to lend a hand to those despite it twisted into greed. His lean frame easily got her onto both feet when dragging them both towards a small growing fire pit where yellow flames intensified. Fur pelts thicker than her own were bundled into rolls, in which they got kicked across to her feet with him settling on a saddle used to avoid being in contact with icy tree bark.

"What possesses you to bathe in water that it'd kill you?" In sheer surreal fashion Rhemir couldn't help but grin ever undeniably amazed, "If you wanted to end your life? You should have kept your mouth shut back on that mountain." Wet strands of hair in which her hands carefully dried over flames caused a slightly leaning to get closer for warmth, "I am no commoner, captain. I am not a peasant who wallows in their sweat and stink, I have standards to uphold even on roads regardless as it's my duty as an heir to the Dionicos name."

The man lightly scratched stubble not entirely interested to care as he pulled out a familiar map again. She remained close to a fire's flames until shifting to do her damped side next, "Some standards? Must've been nice chained to that cave's wall, if rotting corpses of your men would say the same and is that stink any different?" Her tongue nearly bled in avoiding yet another jab at his perceptive belief in seeing incompetence. Yet another trait of our people, to use words as blades. You're as different when you using it well, captain.

Smoke forced her momentarily to breathe loudly in avoiding a baited trap being set. While not gifted in words as some she'd known personally, a mercenary band who lead their peoples lessors did provide one hopeful still flickering akin to flames. Sturgians, they can't speak what they refuse to care about until it gives them ample wealth. They paid you far more than most bands, I see why because they're clever enough in their greed to hasten our demise, I at least know to have one of us to use in a war would be common grounds for...surrender.

He crossed both legs while holding up parchment towards a fire's growing light, "You've been plotting our route for nearly two days. What do you fear?" She questioned after managing to satisfy old lessons in seeing hair drip less of liquid potentially freezing. Fur pelts were unwrapped immediately and swung them around herself inhaling deeply to ward off chills. Even in padded like leather armor he'd been mostly content in frigid conditions, somehow.

"Tell me something your, ladyship! Just how are you supposed to prepare in traveling across roads, you or I never have been?" He shot back mildly annoyed considering it nearly made her crack a smirk underneath furs, "Oh, I suppose you'd know. If having an entire party's freezing remains being eaten for wolves and be shit out, so I'd be fairly concerned." It certainly didn't alleviate a streak of shame in losing those underneath her, but Rhemir certainly had an air to mask loathing of those inept to keep living.

Nonetheless it'd taken time to observe to finally enact some direction finally, "What road are you deciding upon?" A pair of eyes closed briefly until they settled back onto her again, "Many." He drew out that word quite smoothly to hide annoyance, "How many come across a major route over a river where Battanian border patrols frequent?" That made him stare momentarily perplexed until he set a map away folded. The fur pelts hid a sly smile due to relishing an earnest degree of victory in making this mercenary finally see reason.

Rhemir leaned forward crossing arms to speak quite coldly even as wind swept past them both, "What else are you hiding away now, woman?" She may not have trusted him outright, yet he wasn't like those other brutes who charged headlong into a sword's blade. For blood never lied, nor could it hide one's nature given there was a subtle difference in getting this mercenary intrigued. You are alike to my countrymen then you'd realize, captain and I cannot help to wonder how one of us ended up, to be raised in these lands. Perhaps the heavens are smiling upon me, I pray for hope if it is so.

Shuffling furs tighter to avoid a particular nasty stinging sensation across her eyes, "May I see your map? Initially I was tasked to skirt past any cities inside Battania, but it didn't mean we weren't prepared to journey on dangerous roads for time's sake." Rhemir hummed lightly not buying that convenience given it'd been an honest admission on her part. And they were underneath her in order for them to garner a reward, if they managed to survive, in hindsight it'd be best to push her own mission sooner than later.

Several minutes passed silence until an intake of breath being expelled quickly made a smile grow immensely pleased. He got up crossing past to settle down next to her, if only to unfold parchment to be held up against flame's flickering akin to living shadows. Taking it partially closer she followed his gloved finger tapping exactly where they camped, "Let's find out, if there's a mystery road you know for the gods to curse me further." It wasn't entirely enthusiastic considering he'd be relying on her, an ironic distaste she shared in using his brutes for safeguarding.

"This is an older map, I take it?" Glancing at an entire hand drawn sketch which had been heavily detailed in western portions. Rovalt, right? An incredible amount of trails detailed weaving between terrain formation were pragmatic habits to harbor it seemed, "It's what you'd call an inheritance from family, if it isn't nothing then I'd say it's something." Reaching over she lightly took a quill to correct details on his own knowledge, more so naturally from memory in giving them both a way out of these frozen lands.

Rhemir took off both gloves to tap a section road where she wrote signs indicating game trails. "Hunter gatherings?" Referring to local villages nearby in which her tone tinged on amusement, "No, captain. Loyal subjects within my northern kindred who wish to swear loyalty to us, but we can't reclaim lost loyalties and fealty until exterior threats are dealt with. The Empire is fractured, but if we don't survive those beyond our borders first then mending these schisms won't ever be possible." She explained practically despite it being an affront that those among her kinsmen would never kneel, as they wouldn't allow them to claim power when it'd be their own to shape.

Those are marks of a smithy's hammer! Callused hands similar to those who'd forged her own sword and supplied to their armies stood out. They weren't cut up as if wielding a blade's hilt constantly, but discolored finger tips were signs of burns. Strange, indeed. Her gaze dipped to marking out several rough sketches were signs created by those who bordered Battanian eastern borders lead up past into the northern kinsman's country. Yet internal questions had to be placed aside due to urgent attention in reaching Epicortea.

"Dangerous territory, especially in heavy snow fall if you think going up that mountains will be easy on us all." The youth next to her laughed knowingly as if he'd done something similar, "We'll lose time but gain distance. You're a curse!" He stated tiredly to simply get himself flat against his back, if only to cover an exhausted expression loosely. What are you trying now, boy? You're clever, but I am not that kind of woman.

That smile alone in her less than impressed experience had ensnared many of lower birth. Or could have melted a heart of some deluded maiden, bar wench and other unsavory occupations. Clever, but not unseen since you men always want what every man craves. It wasn't prudence in which her looks from her mother and father enraptured suitors, pride and honor dictated she choose herself in strengthening a family's prestige. And Rhemir certainly wasn't as wise, if his youth showcased a playful sense of tempting a dagger's tip.

"Your blood shows more than you care to believe, Rhemir." She relented after seeing no hands straying despite an impeccable grin exposing some enjoyment, "Why are you among them?" If the mercenary got incredibly irritated, he hid it well by retorting, "Why? Probably for the same reason why you're sitting in frozen woods, wrapped up in fur pelts and just giving me reasons to be paid in gold coin one way, another...your ladyship." That smile turned deviously pleasant for a twisted humor. Perhaps misjudging intentions were more familiar given those seeking her had returned, if only as a reminder this youth man share outward appearances yet inwardly?

Not a youth driven by what's between his legs, but behind that pleasant face which reminds me of dangerous men in father's court. Hearing constant jeering hadn't been beneath her, if utilizing it to keep her task in sight manageable. Yet it certainly played into using looks for men to fold even though using such despicable means went against her natural habits. Perhaps he's not as experienced if what I've overheard as a means to keep standing within his company's tastes. He doesn't reek of ale, or wine unlike most in that camp.

"You know of my family name, is it not fair for you to say of your own? You're keeping word in my service, Rhemir." An eye cracked open lazily before closing momentarily, "Because I prefer to keep secrets only with coin, or spill them." The dagger's hilt seemed far more colder given his hand idly flipped a knife over and over. Greed, or insufferable cockiness. You stink of both, mercenary. It certainly became difficult expecting a smooth implication, if only to be disregarded as merely another who wasn't worth more.

Phaea didn't dare assume if being vexed to this extent dishonored herself, or her own mother's lessons in reading men's intentions. Youth, or not! He'll be prone to urges, even if I have to lower myself to be akin to fearful of dangers. Stubborn persistence never ceased to reward those on a battlefield, more so in commanding those to victory. And trying to rationalize with a distant kinship among barbaric savages and sell-swords who thought they knew honor? Heavens, do you mock me for being saved or despair for being locked in iron?

"You'd fight your own blood for just coin?" She prompted to relent in asking him outright as he shrugged despite resting near burning wood, "You and I don't share anything, Phaea." He said it once more clearly at peace to vex her strongly, "Whatever home I had, or not is my death trap because I had to pick your accursed mouth off along on a road. Truthfully, I could have been in Sturgia, ready and willingly diving into war for wealth beyond I'd imagine."

And now his eyes opened staring coyly with that knife lightly tapping his chest's vest, "But I'm in a war where if I die? Or you?" Pointing that gleaming tip due to flames brightly fighting against chilling temperatures with stars flickering overhead, "I get nothing out of it. War starts, we're dead and I will not miss out on earning my claims regardless if you're a horrid liar...your ladyship." She refused to cave to give this smug youth satisfaction even if cutting out that tongue proved tempting, it'd been an unending circle of words.

"Is this a child's game you seek to humor!" Growling out words past an ever emerging impatience to have him laugh lowly, "I think that's the first time you're speaking honestly, for once." He sat up idly cracking a neck left to right, if to ward off stiffness. Reaching over towards one pelt in having it clipped from secured rope, "Maybe we'll get somewhere, if you keep it up. You have a gods cursed thick headed nature that makes me wish, I could ignore it."

Fur belonging to either wolves, or maybe bears of smaller breeds wrapped around him comfortably with hands rubbing against flames. She stared undeniably stunned in hearing someone just dance in wordplay, as if it were indeed a game of humor. What makes a youth several years younger than I, feel absolutely vexed and belittled with but words? His slim face held distinct traces of Imperial ancestry given not entirely uncommon, but there was something different. It struck her curiously enough, if only to remind herself of kin bordering eastwards.

"Can I ask where you think your family hailed from?" She asked uncertainly trying to picture a clarity in having him chuckle quietly to expel hot air. It took several moments until a thicker stick tamed wood not being burned into being tended too, "Not around here. I've gotten used to the cold and snow, I don't mind it yet...home is a word in itself." Absently musing from older times in which it was more dismissive to her bitter rejection to fight for their fate. Her people, family and lands were at risk with this youth toying in words for mere humor.

Distantly a wolves howl echoed in making them both look across a lake's murky surface. Moments passed until howling wind swept that lone sign of life in frigid climates aside. And she tightened fur to ward off bone aches unable to be quelled. Wretched land, it's as if it seeks to eat away and kill me for simply being on it. To frozen hell with these savages, they strike only because we mistook their compliance for trickery.

Shuddering deeply caught an eye partially to make a snort of resignation, "Let me show you a trick to appreciate cold." Using a knife's edge, he began to dig just in front of her until one lengthy scar along earth became clear. Idly taking burning smaller pieces of burnt logs, or sticks which were rippling white and blackened char. He nimbly used another piece of fur pelt significantly smaller, if only to flip it over and dump embers within. The bundle of pelts only hissed when air escaped from loosely padded edges, but it remained nonetheless hotter than the very air they breathed.

After filling an entire length of reddish flickering embers, he swept dirt over it and padded her closer towards a fire's edge. Smirking slightly to convey smug amusement, "Sit! Sit and let yourself be warmed until it burns out. Pelts retain heat, if they're not too thin." Reluctantly she skidded herself to feel warmth underneath legs and exhaled contently. It's not heated water, but I'll admit it helps in keeping my blood from turning into icy chills.

Although that act of supposed generosity turned sour due to how close it'd gotten her within arm's reach of a smirk. Insufferable prick, I can taste your arrogance. Hands were considerably closer to retain heat and she appreciated some comfort in this hellish land. Expecting a hand to inch towards fur's ends, Rhemir only pulled out that map of his again. Lighter blue iris's stared tiredly going over new information, detail and it seemed to satisfy whatever was behind them. She inwardly dared to imagine what such greed, or lust of coin tempted his capability for her own sake.

"How much do you want, mercenary?" Dreading an answer didn't distract him much to her internal irritation, "As much as you're willing to pay. Sooner we get you to your destination, maybe I consider other contracts...if the price is right." She stared trying to decipher whether he'd willingly break word with her enemies. Wait, am I hearing that right? You're willing to be hired, if we manage to live and therefore...earn wealth in war.

That drew a pleasant smile with him almost ruining her disbelief, "That's my only bone! My only one, I'll be throwing at you willingly, your ladyship." Whether he had other intentions, or future opportunities didn't matter in their present as brutish words daringly echoed freshly. War is coming, but you've been left out and saying that you do hold a shred of valor to redeem yourself. To take up arms against those who are after me, because they involved you and staining their blood upon soil is your way to tell me to live with honor.

Snow steadily kept obscuring Rhemir's eyes to the point where he yelled over howling winds, "Your suggestion just makes me believe you are a gods damned curse, Phaea!" Four days of travel in cutting through terrain of dense forests finally ran it's course. An incredibly near suicidal trail lead towards a range of mountains whose peaks were all but covered by whitish clouds. Three days from here over to the border my ass, or gods help me! I'd rather go back on that damned road, before my horse freezes to death from this madness.

An entire column of mercenaries using every piece of warm pelt, or leather padding strayed no more than arm's pace. Horses were constantly trying to stop, as fresh snow continuously was being dug out to aid them in moving across rocky terrain. Between two mountain passes, an entire valley dips and then narrows where waterfalls to keep a small bridge hidden from view. Oh, I'm impressed that peasants had such kindness in just getting across Battania so easily done. Gashing teeth to avoid getting off an almost fatally exhausted animal hardly helped, "You'll pull through girl! You're the only family I got left I don't regret seeing."

Patting a mount's neck consistently gave hope the Vlandian coursier would live through ten more seasons before long. Above towering behemoths of rock, ice and other such wonders of lands ascending closer to the heavens did Rhemir strain looking back, "You're drinking?" Calling out to a large figure wrapped in bearish fur, as Falonog waved less than happily. Ale had all but been frozen once a cork exposed internal liquid.

"Maybe you should walk for once!" The Battanian's gruff bellowing laughter could still be heard as numerous members of his party kept heads down. Probably a league left ahead of us, or else we'll being calling this valley our graves soon enough. We lucked out in finding a crevice to use torches to keep our horses somewhat alive, but if this gets any colder? It'll probably rival Strugian winters on a good day, if rumors hold truth to them.

Their descent sharpened abruptly when he pulled reins teeming with frozen icicles to keep himself from falling off, "Horseshit!" Snarling to constantly look back in seeing older animals stumbling as men assisted through near white out conditions, it couldn't even been seen who had done it to keep carts from tumbling over. But their route held truly in the god's hands for mercy, luck and enough promises to sacrifice an entire village's populace. Only joyful thought I have, no one is going to catch up or won't see our tracks for too long. Winter is harsh, but it never fails to make someone venture away akin to spirits.

Wiping snow away for an unknowable sake from being blinded Rhemir peered around in seeing granite cliffs wedging closer. They were grayed outline among a whitish murky environment yet it was a sign he'd been praying for two days and nights. Path narrows sharply, if only enough for one horse to move at a time. Apparently hunting parties poach on Battanian lands behind us, or so what Phaea knew about those who viewed them. Can't say I haven't dealt with poachers, yet I think these are simply too mad to reason with willingly.

What little light above certainly made visibility absolutely out of a nightmarish tale mothers told children in hell's embrace. Rhemir coughed due to inhaling a fair bit of frozen liquid, "Appreciate cold? Gods kill me, I'll never do it again." Compared to that night almost a week ago, he'd prefer it and wish for such nights on every moon new, or old. Cliffs steadily started clawing upwards in briefly giving him respite to keep sight on two distinct features said to be an entrance of local superstition. And his faith was rewarded after hell's chilling presence.

Two statues of distant guards carved by hands long ago briefly stood over most men guarding one narrow slit among granite, ice and wind. Almost completely covered by snow barely made out legible forms akin to spears, or maybe they were shields held upright. Imperial roads once meant for lands beyond current borders, if what our esteemed payday implied. She hasn't let up in speaking about it, I really will not consider dropping hints for good will. In a bid to acquire anything more than just simply signs of hunters from illegal poaching, Rhemir had grudgingly kept himself aloof due to some sort of local legend pertaining to Phaea's original journey.

"Lass has a flair for her own to make them seem grander." Falonog's voice carried over winds as he shifted leather clothe to wave them forward urgently. Legion of the Damned, or so they're called now were apparently apart of the Empire's reach centuries ago. Left markers, tributes and only lost because Battanian strength pushed them out gradually. Rolling eyes to the gray skies did he begin getting his own mount throw a passage capable to support them barely.

Once he got entrapped by cliff's going upwards into thin streaks of grayish heavens did he manage to hear himself, "Get every horse and man in here. We're taking a breather before getting across a bridge, or gods damn us for coming to our icy tomb." Dismounting to wedge himself past an almost exhausted animal, one of his near frozen mercenaries tiredly took reins away. He started harshly pulling anyone stumbling who'd been completely saturated in white and darkened mixed coloration's, more so not one of them uttered a word to only shake themselves down to slump against granite to retain some direction for blood flow.

Every crevice had been taken up some extremely, Rhemir had to duck under carts to reach the passage's entrance to keep an eye behind. Not in any mood, if I see something regardless of man, or beast I'm cutting it's head off. One man who seemed to be frozen alive managed to breaking off a strip of leather asking quite frigidly, "Captain? Mind if some boys warm up inside a cart, get a small torch and ward off frost claiming fingers? Woman inside isn't too happy, but..." His voice trailed off shivering due to an overtly powerful gust sweeping through them effortlessly.

"Do it, if our lady has an issue. Tell her to walk!" Grinning coyly in making a bearded mercenary salute ever appreciated in contending with curses. Snow and ice kept slamming him relentlessly when seeing utter misty conditions to just make up tracks, if only to be obscured after ten minutes in making their presence masked. They had to rest now, or be frozen by nightfall since sleeping wasn't too far off in venturing towards hell's warmer temptations.

It didn't take long until Falonog wiped off snowy residue from dark red dampened hair, "We're missing two, boy." Rhemir eyes closed to blandly understand in saying, "Probably fell over earlier, snow and wind covered them quickly. And now they're buried, Gods be with them." At this rate they would easier pickings for looters in groups capable to strip their bodies clean, or other familiar groups that wouldn't pause into talking. You better tell me your northern kin keep their roads cleaned, or else I'm no in mood for bartering favors for mountain men. Pathos only lucked out, if only for us sneaking up on him years ago.

Behind a cart shifted roughly with some faint trace of smoke departing out torn up flaps. Yet no screams, or shouts of men trying to have their way gave credit in behavior. Too cold to get hard, too tired to care and many including myself, all want to get off this frozen hellish landscape. Sturgia is worse, by far but this is too close for humor. As long as they had time to regain sanity, strength and simple necessities for fire? Rhemir shivered strongly to ignore skin blistering chills along a back due to being closer to granite cliffs.

"Could be worse, if I had to say." The large man admitted rather straightforward in which a younger mercenary youth agreed partially, "Least we'd be losing numbers, but gaining something if Battanian border patrols found us. And to think we'd be in Sturgia, I'd reckon." Both of them chuckled knowing winters in that country were making them quite relieved. If only to stem off flesh blistering winds whenever leather, or clothe fell harder to retain heat. Absently trying in pulling one piece of leather snapped off much to his growing irritation as it fell loosely.

Standing on opposite lengths in viewing near total enveloped landscapes provided little relief, if they continued to lingered. Yet at least they were able to not be blinded constantly, "Boy, do you see that?" Falonog questioned abruptly ending their conversation as a hand gripped an almost entirely encased handle of bone and ice. He ventured just several steps glaring pointedly as Rhemir frowned in hearing the man's tone, "Where at exactly? All I see is damned ice, snow and nothing but white for my eyes to burn."

An axe literally leveled off towards their right in which he drew a knife accordingly. Staring attentively did a subtle difference begin emerging, "We've been followed." Among whitish landscapes grayish silhouettes were growing in coloration, lightly biting an interior cheek since they were related to men appearing ghostly, "It's not possible for our track's to be discovered. Unless they were already inside this valley, or gotten ahead of us."

The larger man grinned mainly savoring some movement to warm their frozen veins, "I needed blood to flow better anyway." Rhemir frowned as silhouettes grew larger yet he walked out staring long and hard at something familiar. As forms grew more pronounced he swore that they were covered in whitish gray mixtures of pelts, if seeing ears akin to wolves sticking above heads. Either I'm seeing spirits of dead men, or I think the gods have been listening to my prayers because I don't believe it entirely.

Three heavily fur covered men were struggling jointly due to something being pulled behind them, a makeshift sled of crude construction. As he drew a long-sword mightily from one sheath did a leading figure pause immediately. Both mercenaries stood nearly shoulder to shoulder, if only for them to see them clearly against a cliff's exterior. And they stared momentarily, "Pathos's men?" Blurting out nearly in sheer disbelief as Falonog raised an axe with one hand, if only to flip it twice over and waited in confirming that sign of approach.

The leading bandit quickly raised a spear held up by two shaking arms and signaled back by dropping it to chest level three times. Well, I'll be praising spirits of dead men. Rhemir saw a frozen reddish beard hide an impressed leer, "Looks like some were smart enough, if they're alive." Regardless if there were bodies capable to track them through such hellish landscapes, either they were after them or potential scouts to cut their throats in their sleep. But musing in flesh blistering winds wasn't appealing until gesturing for them to come forward urgently.

A small trio dragging some sort of hunter's sled hastily moved as Falonog strode out calling out to them laughing, "Weren't you lot killed with that sack of shit?" All three wore wolf heads with traces of leather and desperate scarves hiding near bluish faces risking a frozen death, "Pathos got everyone, but us three killed...you fucking red face drunk bastard!" Rhemir strained to hear them yet there wasn't mistaking a sense of relieved joy for old faces.

Keeping a long-sword level did four of them move together in getting within one narrow passage way. The cart and party's rear was further behind, if only to keep those from risking flames being out by unmerciful winds. Oh gods, these are Pathos's men. Now why are you tracking us, I doubt it's because you missed us. All three collapsed to lean against walls preferably to ward off dangerous chills, if their muffled groans and panting indicated nearly dying on two feet. They were determined if he had anything remotely positive to give them freely.

"You're a ghost...boy." The lead wolf pelt wearing man praised bitterly, "Spent five days and four nights trying to keep up with ya." Rhemir leaned close with a blade lightly pointed at the man's slumped over throat to question him, "What brings you to my feet? Pathos's hideout got wiped out when I found what was left of your group, Falonog isn't one to lie and as such? Pray to the gods to have them beg as to what's stopping me from gutting you three?"

One rasped out wheezing air through near ice filled lungs, "You mean rumors of a huge prize on some band of banner-less sell-swords? Boy, if we were mad enough to stab ya...we'd have more." Another kicked a sled's contents in having frozen icicles shatter on frozen leather coverings, "Bands of strange folk and Battanian patrols are cutting all us free folk. They've been sweeping along roads akin to wolves smelling prey, if you believe it."

A pair of blue eyes lazily looked to a massive axe wielder who chortled, "How bad?" Another lifted their white infested wolf pelt to reveal near pale reddening cheeks, "Every group you, or Pathos met and knew are being skinned down for information...about your band's trail." Crinkled fur gloves nearly in tatters gestured sharply to their supposed speaker, "Came across him and three others, we lost two because they decided it'd be smart to cross through forests. We hid our asses in trees, if only to see these strange men try making them loosen their tongues about where you, or this drunken monster would travel from Car Banseth."

Rhemir chewed that over since it certainly made avoiding man roads dangerously apparent, "Men in black hoods, or don't say much at all?" The original speaker laughed far too amazed to speak truthfully in being right, "Right on a whore's loving hole, boy." Kneeling down with the blade still relatively prepared to impale an exhausted man's rib, if they were that desperate to keep up on their heels then he demanded in knowing, "Alright! How did you three find us?"

They didn't mince words in showing some grim acceptance, "We found your camp along a stream, or traces of a fire near some lake. This sharp eyed fuck!" Motioning to one across who coughed dangerously in trying to keep eyes tiredly open, "Saw your band leaving our hideout, we doubled back in and tried to take what little scraps left. Then he told me and I figured to keep ourselves open...if we wish to live longer."

It seemed they were indeed desperate to join them just to see another day. Well, it seems I lost two but might gain three. And they're hardy souls, if gold keeps their swords away. He stood up idly mentioning to them almost convinced, "If I let you lot among us? What do you have to convince me, or think you'll be after the prize that might clear a bounty up?" All three bandits who'd been accustomed to harsher threats tossed their short spears, or crude blades onto a sled signaling willingness to prove their open intentions.

"If you think we'll slit your throat so easily, we have something you missed." One man laughed tiredly to point at a sled's covering, "Pathos had a bear head pelt. It was underneath a cellar of booze and used it to make some captive women piss themselves, if they didn't provide fun." Falonog only hunched over to flip a leather covering in seeing an assortment of objects. And yet he pulled up a massive black bear's head to place onto his own smugly.

Between that beard and black fur did Rhemir cheekily jab at the man, "You look like the damned beast who birthed you. Drunk, ugly and worse for whores." An axe's frozen edges came within inches of slicing his own neck, "Not after I cut that pretty face of your own, boy. But it's Pathos's own, I can smell the shit and piss even when he's rotting leagues away." That just gave these three a place among them, if their efforts were giving them food and drink. He couldn't shy away in providing coin for those mad enough to brave storms to die for gold, or less.

"There's a small torch being fed inside that cart, get in and warm yourselves. Once we make camp, we'll find out what more ya know." Rhemir sheathed a blade in grasping one man onto weakened legs, "And don't touch the prize! Woman's pretty, but she's our potential contract and gold in getting her across these frozen lands." If the man seemed eager, it never showed considering what came next to make all three silently relate.

The wolf pelt wearing mercenary tiredly gestured towards an icy hell, "Our balls are so damned cold, I don't have blood to think in getting hard for a woman. Yet alone touch our first pay, captain." Rhemir subtly allowed a hand to drop away from one knife, "Good man." Roughly jostling him forward as two others were assisted into getting towards what little fire endured on a mountain's unforgiving nature to kill them all.

Once they got hauled into an interior cart, Rhemir stepped away to only clear his face freely of icy frost again. It's getting incredibly dangerous, more then I've placed myself into before. Gods I'm almost certain, if Phaea hadn't kept her tongue or else we'd have been followed and entrapped in this valley's icy comfort. One way, or another the roads were being viewed by eyes who'd do anything to prevent them from venturing outside one country's border. Yet it left him staring ahead of them to garner an ever growing paranoid, in which that they'd be hunted ever dogmatically worse off in those lands seeking a war.

Night blanketed an entire forest still enveloped by storms as a mountain was fortunately smaller than being within it. Rhemir sat underneath a tree where one massive fire assisted in starving off colder sleeps as most of his party prayed to the gods for mercies. Most were asleep except pairs of rotating watches that kept themselves wary of unknown territory, "We're still two weeks at least, if this winter continues hounding our pace." He muttered when absently tossing smaller pieces of sticks into his own personal pit just off along an arm.

Northern Imperial lands, I've never been this far east from Rovalt ever since calling that place home when I can first recall memories. The map which had been detailed previously left little imagination in simply doing a repetition of trial and error. Villages, hunting trails and so much more would be needed before remotely settling into usual routines in garnering incomes somewhere in a future growing closer. If war broke out, it'd be best to prepare and eventually establish internal opportunities whenever this accursed mess cleaned itself up.

Although something akin to frozen twigs snapped in making him quickly pull out a long-sword, "Captain?" Rhemir blinked several times regaining a sense of instinct in seeing their ladyship who eyed him due to a weapon drawn. Gods, I can't catch a break from anything. Lightly easing down to absently toss some dried out sticks into his own personal warmth, "What is it, now? Aren't you supposed to be resting like everyone else, you realize I'm on watch regardless until everyone has some sense of their surroundings."

Phaea's face was covered mainly due to fur pelt keeping her mostly warmed, or at least not as closer to a freezing death early on that mountain. She remarkably kept herself aloof with newer arrivals considering none of them made any indication to speak about it, "Seems your senses aren't as keen if your blade is easily shown." Said piece of metal sheathed itself when he ignored that less than pleased tone, if at all it'd test restraint. Even so she surprised a small bit in actually sitting down next to him sticking hands over flames to warm them gradually.

"There's a river that borders my people's land, my northern kin and these savage woodsmen not too far from here, if I recall." Rhemir grunted lowly accepting her word due to not being this far east as opposed to journeying into Sturgia years ago on northern roads, "Isn't this the city that is said to be built upon three rivers?" He asked for clarification since only rumors and gossip faintly reached where what was once considered home grounds. Every league they traversed was more or, less new unknown territory to expect unforeseen dangers.

A brief nod with one amused smile emerging, "You've never walked inside lands that are your blood's birth?" One long-sword's pommel came nearly in drawing further again, "No." He answered quite frankly in keeping an urge to snark aloud, "I've never ventured so far east, not from Car Banseth or Rovalt considering...I traversed into Sturgia on occasion, but never this way." Idly feeding more wood into a fire allowed him respite to exhale comfortably again the lone tree with pelts and leather keeping himself warmer.

"We've bypassed Sennon, captain." Rhemir looked over earnestly impressed, "That's further north along mountains and dense forests, I never needed to go to that city." Phaea's smile remained in place a tad more entertained to indicate smug accomplishment, "Loyalty among those who remember who they served and wish to be united, it seems my father's spies have earned that much. But ahead of us is a river where a village, one dedicated to riches and contested between my kin is our destination. There if our course holds true, I'll be able to send word to my northern kin and be expected for arrival without others taking notice."

The youth absently began pulling out his map again to somewhat detail a rough sketch of an entire outlying area. Everything beyond that mountain they crossed would need to be marked, if only for future prospects in finding new income and grounds for dealings. Apparently that made a soft laughter make him glance over annoyed, "You are one of us, Rhemir." She said confidently to sit back looking upwards in seeing sporadic snow fall being blown strongly overhead, "Why one of our people is among these barbaric woodsmen, sell-swords who'd sell honor and yet you simply observe, to write and record so you know land to overlook for a future."

Wood crackled sharply due to it folding inwards as whitish coloration fueled an internal heat. You're invoking my brother's ghost. The woman's persistence bordered on near outlandish comprehension since his own elder sibling held similar dedication. He'd been the loyal soldier to their village's lord, or city with his father working tirelessly in building engines of war. Weapons from swords, to spears and other such wonders that garnered them exile instead of treason. Every gods forsaken day and night, you are reminding me of times I'd rather wish remained dead...or buried.

"I told you beforehand, lady." His voice tinged on exasperation for humoring wealth that wouldn't be denied for efforts after weeks of maddening pace, "Gold is what sells secrets, or makes me keep them as such. Your bounty, my bounty and it's all against a war, a war in where I'll earn what I want in blood, or more. We don't share anything." Marking down potential routes would need to be refined over and over again, "And you'd best hope that your words will reward my party, or else I'll consider other options."

Phaea's smile grew partially in staring at him quite expectantly, "My survival is your contract for a war and I doubt even you are foolhardy to ruin that chance. Sturgia has wronged you, they've spit on your word and from what you've said? You're more than willing to be paid beyond what they initially offered due to your unique position." Rhemir's gaze rolled in gracing to remain silent to be blessed favorably preferably in writing a map entirely. Yet he couldn't help internally thanking the gods for her in taking hints after-all.

"War is coming, captain and if you raise your sword at those who seek our destruction? Gold is a small price to pay for the honor in breaking their spirit, my people are divided but we are not going to allow barbaric savages desecrate our destiny." She vowed strongly refusing to give in to past trials and never once broke underneath captivity. Rhemir hardly blinked to ignore most of her words due to them being eerily familiar to his elder sibling's unwavering stubbornness. And look where that got you both, in my damned grace in having you live longer by telling you otherwise.

Perhaps that lingering bitterness in not strangling his elder brother's wretched neck gave way to him blandly sneering, "And what good is that? You're alone, at my mercy and if I hadn't been different to your kind? You'd be strung up, rotting and being humped until your so called father would think of you dead...to never have a chance in getting free." It never ceased to amaze himself whenever stories pertaining to their old home kept trying to arise from dead men. Mother, father and you brother are all dead rotting somewhere with myself as your sole blood to endure in this world. Gods grant you peace, because I'll never beg them for it.

"It is honor, captain and I can say it is not just by mere chance you came to me to get myself near my quest's end." The blond lady smiled charmingly to laugh at his feebly stark differences. She leaned over to point where his quill pen paused, "You are not them and therefore they'd have continued onward. But you are different as you've admitted, that alone is more than enough for someone of our blood to do more in life and service."

Unwillingly a distant voice flirted to make his teeth gnashing together lividly. What do you know of service, brother? I served, I still serve and I refuse to allow our family's name to be stained because I swore an oath to my lord, to die in his service for our people. And you chose a coward's path, to sell yourself for gold. That rotten son of a bitch, uptight bastard elder sibling's voice never wavered when an argument broke out in going their separate ways. As he'd come of age, he chose another path despite what little family attempted to bridge together in clearing their names which wouldn't amount to an honorable life.

"If you're so eager to die for honor, your ladyship? Then I won't stop you." He finally laughed aloud in seeing her expression twist in a mix of frustrated disbelief. You aren't the first in playing guilt, or having hope in me, Phaea. You're two years too late, so wallow in your disappointment and hate because I saw my own brother have that same look. Folding parchment back up in simple fashion did he settle back in resting finally. Groups were being awakened in accordance of watches being timed and he'd sleep at last.

"Get some rest." He simply advised her grinning in allowing a fire's warmth to do it's natural purpose in making dreams burn away, "Because we're done talking. I don't need ghosts haunting my sleep and soul when I've kept them at bay." Settling in with boots crossed over one another, as a saddle kept himself elevated with pelts cushioning. It certainly made rented rooms in a hot tavern far more appealing, if having a whore who kept herself busy in making it akin to paradise blessed by divine touches.

Phaea's silence proved wonders in earning sleep considering only crackling wood and winds howling overhead provided solitude. Yet he didn't hear her move after minutes passed, if in a bid to starve off irritation again. He cracked an eye partially open in seeing her form leaning against a tree looking upwards stoically. And here I thought nearly freezing to death made most wiser. But if she doesn't return to that cart, I may have to cheat my way in obtaining a prize pool. Regardless he stiffed a yawn to settle in comfortably to await sunrise eventually.

"If your word is what you value, we always honor our own once it is given." She finally said exhaling to shuffle closer in a bid to avoid resting in frozen snow. Either her stubbornness rivaled gods and legends of old, or else exhaustion made her lack of walking away clearer. But nonetheless he wouldn't force such closeness away, it certainly had it's own sense of an appeal. Either way, the young mercenary eventually closed himself to at least find a sense of peace to rest. Sometimes sleeping with woman has it's rewards, although I'd rather not freeze alone for once in my life.

End Chapter III

Author's Note: Sometimes in order to achieve an already daunting task, if you can't go through than go around! Couple things to mention, in-game mechanics rarely describe the journey from one land to another, or rather how long it really takes if we're on the ground. Personally, it's a large continent spanning possibly the width of modern day Europe and Asia, still there's nothing to imagine beyond random events taking place. Hence the interaction with some random additions to the party, I've always been a fan of events popping up, some good, bad or ugly to give a dynamic enjoyment on whatever you're campaign is immersing yourself into respectively. So what is there to say?

The build up to war, as I call it, the race for securing a contract to fight within it is indeed profitable. The motivations for mercenaries in this setting is clear, the more they fight and win, pay is increased excluding their own expendable position. However with an ever ticking bounty, there's very little hope beyond finding an opportunity to turn the effort into something rewarding...Rhemir maybe a young man, but his experience in navigating shady routes is quite insightful. Truth be told, you can argue he's putting up with a lot of irritation and taking the steps to really understand: the past cannot be forgotten, for if it is, history will repeat itself. There's no future without a present and if dying in said present...well, the future is officially done. Case in point, his own experiences which the game certainly doesn't include in opening introductions, so I tend to take a far more intriguing humor into it all.

Again going off traits in game, Phaea's personality is quite stubborn and having a sense of valor and honor, it's a stark contrast to someone whose pragmatic, cunning and less keen on maintaining integrity to survive another day. Honor has it's place, but really, it's just an excuse to justify something more as opposed to Rhemir whose ironically honest and genuine with how the world works on a day to day basis. It also changes the backstory for any character to something more fluid, understandable and at least gives an attempt in why traits in game don't appear to really affect anything in my opinion. Still things are progressing, there's a lot of potential for things to go wrong, or right, it's all about time and whether this mercenary band isn't going to end up in a ditch somewhere.

Nonetheless, leave a review and have a good week ahead.