Chapter 1: Morning Glory
Four days after the battle
She stared blearily at the ceiling above her. The idea of not waking up and seeing the roof of her tent and the sound of activity befitting an encampment was something almost completely foreign to her, let alone the lack of morning dew and the chill it provided. The sputtering from the firepit was a welcome familiarity though, if a little out of place in how it echoed through the -in her opinion- spacious chamber; lacking as it was in furniture.
Raising herself to sit upright on what she now identified was a bed, she rubbed any weariness from her face using the palm of her right hand. A soundless yawn escaped her, before she opted to shake her head wildly and throw her legs over the edge. With both hands behind her, she arched her back until a distinctive pop was heard to which she let out a pleased grunt.
There was a full body mirror in one corner of the room. Making her way to it, she took note of her mostly unclothed state and surmised that someone had much explaining to do later. Her ability to recall her own memories of the night before were murky at best, but she was certain that she was still wearing mail as she entered the settlement. Despite this, she felt no cause for concern and figured she would find her missing attire sooner or later.
In the meantime, she took the opportunity to appraise her figure. She was unlike those women who lived in Ken or Geofu; her body being riddled with countless scars as well as being far too 'normal' in proportions. Nonetheless, the female characteristics were present enough, and a part of her felt elated at that for the sake alone.
The injury she received in the latest battle had been subject to treatment at some point. The bandage had been replaced, and the lack of soreness meant that someone even took the effort to clean the wound as well. She traced a finger all the way to her chest, taking note of the irregular lines and scabs that remained persistent either by choice or because they couldn't be removed. Such marks repeated themselves sporadically all over her body and limbs, save for her head that for obvious reasons she'd taken care to avoid having one too many injuries.
Some of these scars were also more prominent; there were the two of which arranged diagonally side-by-side on her lower abdomen, another of which she didn't so much as see, but could feel as an old soreness on her back, and finally there were the rough lattice of scars on her shins. These three were of the most meaningful, and they would stay that way for the rest of her life.
THUMP! THUMP!
She jerked and snapped her head to the lone door in the room. It was a sturdy thing, made from heavy timber and framed with iron for support. Most notable, was the addition of a plank used to bar the door on top of having three sliding hinges: a very common design in outlying settlements.
THUMP! THUMP!
There was that sound reverberating sound again. She harkens a guess as to who it was, but one could never be too careful.
"Yes, who is it?" she inquired.
"Milady," came a voice, muffled but still audible. "Breakfast is getting cold. Please come down when you can. Also, there should be a set of clothes in there for your use."
"Alright, I'll be out in a moment."
There was a brief silence before the soft thumps alerted her that the figure beyond the door had receded. No doubt, whoever they were had other things to attend to. At the figure's insight, she now noticed the neatly folded attire on the lone chest in front of the footrest of her bed. With all haste, she quickly donned the attire and made for the door, but not before she gave her room a quick tidying.
The figure that best be described as thematically modest, if not slightly indicative of having above normal social status. They wore a green dress with a sleeveless vest that had an intricate design on top. Their hair that was usually tied into a ponytail was also exchanged for a simple hair bun at the back of their head. For footwear, they had chosen a simple pair of plaid shoes with white knee-length socks.
Altogether, the figure would come down the steps was a sharp contrast to the one who lead armies of men against the night.
When they reached the base of the step, they turned to look to their right and took note the young maiden who was in the midst of cleaning the open kitchen but spared time to glance their way. Immediately, it should be noted that the maiden sported a much broader figure than hers with an equally tomboyish face to match. They wore a green dress a few shades brighter than hers with an apron on top, along with black boots. A blue kerchief was tied over her jet-black hair that was tied into a loose bun at the base of her neck.
"Morning, milady," she greeted. "I trust you slept well."
She huffed. "If you call needing to be dragged to your own room and disrobed in your sleep a good night's rest, then I dread to think what you might call a night of unease. Let alone the fact it's already late in the morning."
Indeed, she could see from the window behind the kitchen counter that dawn had risen long ago. Silhouettes seemed to dance hither and thither, and the faint sound of labour and the usual hustle and bustle of life could be heard if she focused.
"Well," the maiden shrugged. "I assume there's nothing important happening yet since no one came to wake you up earlier."
As if on cue, there was a loud knock on the main door.
"Speak of the Queens," she rolled her eyes. "Talk about a jinx."
Lorraine moved to open the door but was stopped by the younger woman mid-way. The way she sternly gazed at her was all the reason she needed to step back with her arms raised. With a nod of satisfaction, the maiden proceeded to walk up to the door and answer whoever it was.
Neatly cut brown hair was the first indicator, the second was the voice.
"Morning, Matilda," Analach greeted. "I don't suppose our resident warrior maiden -and war queen- is awake perhaps? We could use her presence at the foyer soon. The magistrate and his peer wish for a report on the battle."
There was an audible groan that went ignored for the most part as Matilda simply smiled.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that my Mistress is unavailable at the moment. I'll be sure to deliver your message as soon as possible."
With that, she shut the door on the man's face. Not even bothering with whatever response was going to be given. Turning around, she was met with a stunned Lorraine who looked equally befuddled.
"Not a word," Matilda emphasised with her index. "Have your breakfast and finish the pitcher of tea I prepared. Also, take a bath while I prepare your list for the day. Magistrate be damned, I'm not having you scrambling across town all day long and forgetting something."
The now labelled mistress nodded at every word said whilst her servant returned to the kitchen to continue her previous duty. However, there was something wrong in her servant's instructions that grated her nerves.
"Hold on, what kind of tea?"
Roughly half an hour later, Lorraine finally was able to step out of the house; a rather sizeable sack being carried over her shoulder. She sighed, taking note of the cloud of mist escaping her mouth. Blinking, she narrowed her eyes at the dissipating cloud before she carefully examined her surroundings.
That was when she noticed the layer of frost along the railings of the porch. Looking further beyond, the surrounding buildings all had patches of white on their rooftops, and the ground reminded her of someone having scattered coarse powder across its surface. Taking a step closer to the railings, she tentatively swiped her unmittened hand along the wooden surface, gradually she recognised the sensation on the edges of her fingers.
'First snow already,' she remarked as she closely inspected the small grains gathered on her fingertips.
"Lorraine!"
Her musing was cut short, and she turned to see a small figure rushing up to the porch. A warm smile crept up her face. She walked down the steps and onto the path that led to her abode; just in time to catch the figure head-on and carry them into a twirl.
A child's laughter filled the air. A small pair of feet dangled in the wind. Equally small arms held her waist tightly, both out of exhilaration and genuine joy for a long-awaited reunion.
When their little spin ended, Lorraine set them down and proceeded to cup their face. Brilliant emerald stared into her own brown, a toothed smiled to match a slightly chubby and freckled face. Their brown hair tied into a pigtail that went down her dress. She wore a simple peasant's dress, but that that little to dull her radiant smile.
"Morning to you too, Lin,"
She smiled back with that innocent smile she'd come to love. It was one of the things that kept her going this far into her life, even if it wasn't hers to keep and nurture. Although, she doubted she'd made good for a parent to begin with.
Speaking of which, if the lass was here, she realised just who wouldn't be far behind.
"Lin!" Someone screamed. "Get back here!"
Sure enough, there came what looked to be an older duplicate of the little lady beside her. Poor thing looked out of breath as they crossed the last stretch of road with a basket in hand. Their face a twisted mix between what looked like a frown and a fuming expression.
"Don't run off," she squeezed out between breaths. "On your lonesome like that." Pausing for a deep inhale, she continued. "Now, what made you just run off like that young lady."
For her part, Lin tried not to look guilty. Alas, it probably would've worked better if not for the arm she held close to her like a once in a lifetime toy. Upon trailing the arm back to its source, the newcomer's eyebrows shot up like an arrow.
"Lady Lorraine!" Immediately, she bent forward at the waist. "Oh, how unbecoming of me! Forgive me and my daughter for our transgression. I-I don't know what came over her, but please let just-"
"No apology is needed Elaine," she interrupted, adding a polite nod. "Lin makes for a wonderful morning surprise I'd say." Nudging the child to let go of her hand, she rubbed her head affectionately as a substitute before turning back to the other woman.
"So," she started. "It's been sometime since my last visit. How's Herluin? I'd figure he wouldn't be far behind if both of you were coming back from the market."
"Why don't you ask him yourself!" spoke a third voice, loud and clear.
There, standing in the middle of the street, was a well-built man wearing a plain tunic with the sleeves rolled up and some chest exposed, along with a mundane pair of blue pants. His jet-black hair matched the unkept beard he had and was completed by the healthy amount of body hair on his person. A crutch was tucked under his right arm, acting as a replacement for a missing limb.
Now, it was Lorraine's turn to express delight. Walking up the man, she embraced him warmly, to which the man reciprocated in kind.
"Praises to the Pantheon for your safe return," kindly spoke the man.
"To you as well, old friend," came the reply.
When the two separated, Elaine had shifted to her husband's side with Lin in tow, now looking much more composed.
"So," her lips curved. "How have you all been? Still going strong, I hope?"
Herluin barked. "Says the one who saved us yet again from demonkind," he patted her on the shoulder. "This whole damn place should be hosting a feast in your name, Lady!"
"… I suppose so," came her soft reply. "However, I don't think I'd like that, earnestly."
Her friend let out a rather jovial laugh before turning to his wife.
"Go on, El," he gestured ahead. "I'll find you and Lin at the lane, soon."
For her part, Elaine tilted her head before raising her eyebrows in silent understanding. She turned and bid farewell to her before motioning Lin to follow her. As they continued down the path that would lead them to the commoner's quarter, Lin managed to turn around and wave at her idol, to which Lorraine reciprocated.
It was just the two of them now on the streetside. Those around them seemed to go about their daily lives as normal.
"What happened," Herluin asked. "I know from some of the guys at the inn that the company got hit hard. Just how bad is it?"
The query went almost answered. She could only stare downcast as her lips betrayed her in producing a definite answer. However, the person before her wasn't one that she could just brush off callously without care. It was what it meant to have a friend after all.
"We marched to meet them with six hundred," she began. "And met them head-on with valour and wit. Their dead now, and that's all that matters. Our fallen will find peace in the night."
The way she worded her sentence caused him to frown in apparent scrutiny. His eyes bored into hers trying to discern some hidden fact, but alas they came up with naught. A sigh left his lips and he turned downcast, clearly displeased with how aloof the conversation was. Pursing his lips, he raised his head to meet her gaze, and this time she noticed the hint for dismissal. She smiled ever so slightly to express her own hidden apology for being evasive.
With a final pat on the shoulder, he gave her a smile then proceeded to walk onwards in the direction his had headed. She watched as the man disappeared into the crowds. When she was sure that she couldn't see him no more, her turned to address the other figure behind her.
"I hate gnats," she said. "Especially the ones that think they could elude me by standing behind my own door."
From where he stood at the side of her house, Analach stepped forward with both arms raised in faux surrender. His usual wargear was changed for a simple tunic and kilt wrapped around him and held together by belts but continued to wear his greaves and sandals. In addition to his shoulder length, unkept hair, he looked more like a Wildman in comparison to the other people in the city with their brighter clothes and short, neat hair.
"Hey, that's not nice of you, innit?" he said merrily.
Lorraine merely rolled her eyes. "For you, it's probably being far too generous," she beckoned him to follow, and he soon fell into step beside her.
Decaying imperial and troubling destitute.
Whatever grandness settlement had, it was long since swept by time. The ancient marble still stood as a reminder of those times. Daunting, imposing and of course lording over all the common masses across the ages; it was something she never seemed to ever get used to despite having lived here the past five years.
The area they were heading to was at the heart of the settlement. It required them to navigate through the commerce district, pass the hustle and bustle of trade in an everyday marketplace. All around them, men of every social class mingled with next to no friction aside from the occasional curse and complaint, or heated bargaining going on. The goods ranged from foodstuffs and basic clothes, but gradually gave way to ceramic pottery, marble sculptures and textile the closer they got to the centre.
She and her skirmisher captain were taking the scenic route as it was the most sensible path at this time of the day. People were beginning to file out with their newly bought goods, causing a sizeable throng that would've impeded their progress to the meeting. On the upside, it also meant there was a quiet atmosphere that they could engage in dialogue without overt worry of unwanted eavesdroppers.
Analach was taking this opportunity to fill Lorraine in on the state of the company.
"We've taken the liberty of calling back the camps around the Valley. Reports from the troops coming here speak of an increase in patrols across the entire region."
"It seems our allies are just as spooked as we are."
"As they should," he affirmed with a nod. "Dastards owe us for this. They could've at least sent some more men to bolster our forces."
"But then we'd lose credibility as an independent fighting force. Not to mention, the fact that they were willing to give us a hundred and twenty of their men that had more than done enough to tip the balance in our favour."
It wasn't a false statement either. The auxiliary troops attached to their host had held their line with all the durability of an iron wall. It was their formation that had reacted immediately when the orc chief's rampage had made a gap in their lines. It was also their stalwart defence that Gilroy based his reason for imploring Lorraine not to give up the fight, for when the rest of the army had lost cohesion, the auxiliaries continued to maintain discipline and simply formed squares to deal with attackers in their rear and at the flanks.
The memory made the war maiden mentally wince, knowing she'd have to also explain the casualties from the auxiliary to the city's rulers.
Soon, the world around them shifted in tone. The loud, densely packed crowds and shops gave way to a more quiet, sombre tone. The crowds became small groups of men chatting away in hushed tones, and the stalls were now imposing buildings with guards posted at every entrance with patrols making their rounds.
The duo continued heading straight ahead towards a massive building at the far end of the forum. Here, an officer and two soldiers stood in attention. The leader eyed them rather expectantly, and as they neared; Lorraine realised she knew the man; her lips thinned ever so slightly.
"Greetings Captain, I am here as summoned by Magistrate Daedalus. We are here to give our report on the battle at the steppes," she handed him the official scroll given to her with the seal denoting the priority of visit.
The man before her was quick to snatch the paper, sparing a glance at her before ripping the seal and reading the contents. He gestured for one of the soldiers who then immediately gave a salute before making his way up the steps and inside the building proper.
For a while, it was just the two of them staring at each other. Analach stood rather laid-back a few feet behind and to her right, uncaring of the harsh stares and soft curses he was getting. His gaze shifted from building to building, and there was a small smile on his face for all the attention he was getting.
"Forty men, dead," the deep voice of the captain broke the silence.
"Eighty more alive and well," came the maiden's counter.
"That's forty men sent to serve and die under the banner and orders of an outsider, a harlot no less."
"Those men and their still living brothers all joined voluntarily to stop an oncoming enemy. An enemy that was heading to their city no less, and not of one of their neighbours. With valour and honour, they held their where even the best troops of the outsiders couldn't. There is no greater pride they could've achieved."
The already imposing aura of the officer seemed to flare even more.
"It should've been one of ours that led them, not you," he growled. "Damn the magistrate, damn them for letting this happen. Had I-…. Had any proper general of the triumvirate been leading them, then no doubt they would've never allowed even one man to fall under their leadership. There can be no doubt about it!"
The tail end of the captain's sentence did not go unnoticed despite the more subdued tone used. A soft expression appeared on the maiden's face, and she understood why the man before her was acting up.
"Your son is safe, rest assured. I had met him by chance during a break on the way back to the city. Other than a simple arm wound, I'm sure he has his reasons for not seeing you as of yet."
Immediately, whatever agitation from the man before her seemed to gradually subside. It was still there, but it was far more controlled and more in line with how men of his station were supposed to act.
It was around that time that the soldier from before returned and informed them that the leadership of the city was ready to see them. Lorraine spared the captain a nod in dismissal, to which he reciprocated, albeit subtlety. The same couldn't be said for Analach, who earned a sneer and dry spit.
"Wild-thing," he growled.
The two soon made their way up the steps that led into the building. A set of intricate double doors stood in their way, supported by two guards. Both men paid the three no heed as they passed.
The space within was certainly large and gave the impression of being much larger on the inside. It was also sparsely decorated, with an interior design with an emphasis on function.
Awaiting them at the centre of this place were two men, one in a dark red kafan, sporting military gear and the other in pure white toga, with a quill and parchment. Both were loomed over the map that lay spread across the ornate wooden table at the centre of the empty chamber, engaged in hushed whispers. The one in white was the first to notice the newcomers and motioned his companion to turnabout.
The messenger came to an abrupt halt at a respectable distance from the two men and gave a salute. He was subtly dismissed with a nod from the man in red, which prompted him to turn on his heel and exit the building.
A still silence filled the room. The two parties betrayed nary a breath for the moment that came to pass, before the one in red addressed them.
"Report," his demand was curt.
"It is done." Lorraine replied sharply. "The orc hoard has been wiped, and the people of this valley shall get to sleep peacefully for a few moons. On our return here, we made sure to clear out any stragglers that we could find. As such, you can expect the return of merchants aplenty. Perhaps, enough to even consider new commissions for the betterment of the people."
"What joyous news!" abruptly said the man in white. "As expected of your company, Lorraine. No doubt your deity shines upon you this day."
At the mention of the faith, Lorraine managed a frown, but she didn't have a chance to return the praise when the one in red spoke again.
"Very good news indeed," he said. "As promised, we reward you in both gold and goods. However, the portion of gold has been reduced to make up for compensation for the families of the men who lost their lives."
Lorraine nodded at the terms. It was fair. Daedalus was always steadfast, and she liked it that way.
The process was rather straightforward after that. She nonchalantly skimmed the written contract for what amounted to the eighth time, and signed her signature below on the second section, just above her first signature. There was no need for worry since the barely discernible smudge near the top right corner was still there which meant this was the same parchment she'd read through and memorised.
Turning heel, she beckoned for Analach to follow, but was stopped less than two strides from the door.
"Warrior," echoed Daedalus' voice. "About the other request you made."
Her heart almost skipped a beat. She turned, barely able to keep the tinge of excitement within her down.
There the magistrate stood; his expression tight. "I'm afraid I must inform that the council has not yet given you permission to recruit from these lands. While the peregrines that come to and fro are free to choose wether to enter your services or not, the people of the Triumvirate -from plebs to nobles- are still not allowed to be inducted to your band."
Ah, so there her fortune goes again. She nodded in understanding, briefly taking a glance at the face of the councillor; noting his clear indifference despite how 'enthusiastic' he looked.
With that, she continued her exit out of the building and down the steps of the basilica. She descended the steps and with her aid, disappeared into the crowds. The captain from earlier was nowhere to be seen, having presumably gone to attend other duties.
Upon reaching the marketplace, the two made their way to a public space that provided benches and even tables in certain areas. She was informed in the past how the place was meant to be an outlet for the people to engage in idle activities outside the baths, but it sadly never caught.
Finding seats in a secluded spot, they got on to their next business.
"Well, that could've gone better," the skirmisher shrugged.
"You think?" grumbled the maiden.
"Hey, it could've been an utter no. The way I see it, it seems like we made 'some' progress. Afterall, he didn't seem too mad about losing some men," he adjusts into a comfortable position with his legs stretched out across the length of the bench and crossed one on top of the other.
"That doesn't mean much, and you know it," Lorraine messaged her temples. "Do you know how badly I wanted the permit? It could give such a great boon to the company. Just imagine, the manpower of the Seven Shields with the Triumvirate's rigorous training. Bet you we could start doing those campaigns in the Wastes a hell lot sooner."
Analach snorted. "In your dreams, Lori."
"Of course, where else would I ever have gained such magnificent vision then?" she smirked.
The two parted ways after that. Analach needed to check up on the few connections he had within the town, whereas Lorraine still had her own to-do list that needed attending.
Which was how she found herself at the smithy, her expression rather most disgruntled at the appraisal given by the man before her.
"No can do, ma'am," he waved at the pieces on the table. "This set is done for. Mail's too worn out and torn, and the gambeson's literally hanging by the threads. Never mind the wolfpelt."
Sighing in frustration, she pressed. "The helm?"
"That… I can make do," he responded. "But let's be real here, ma'am. You need a new set of armour. I can give you a bargain if you need. Four-fifths of the full price, how do you say?"
"Don't your best pieces cost me the same as four war horses? (1)" she countered.
"Bah, and what's the value of a good set of armour to a life?" he queried, crossing his arms to set a point. "For a mercenary lord, I'd thought you'd have a better mind in saving your skin. And keeping 'em legacy going."
"What good is fair armour if it leaves me short changed for the men's wages?" she breathed in sharply. "Look, what sets you have that I could trade in for this? I'll throw in an extra six hundred denarii (2) if you could give me one that's good for long-term travel."
The smith he looked at her with a rather contemplative expression, before he bent his knees to rifle through the shelves under the counter. When he rose up once more, he had with him a rather surprising set than succeed in leaving her perturbed.
Lorica hamata she believed the locals called it. A rather cherished set as well given the significance it held with a much more grandeur age that the people of these parts believed they were once apart of. This particular set seemed to reach down to the knees, but included a split front and back for seeming ease of movement. Along with this set, the smith gave a set of vambraces that lack any distinctive pattern but didn't detract from their sturdiness.
"It's a fine thing," praised the aged man. "One of a few I made in all my years. Used some of the more fanciful steel your patricii's use for 'em, what you call… Templars?"
Her right hand that had been in the middle of tracing the index finger across the surface of the armour when he said that. Immediately, she pulled the limb back as if having been struck by a curse. The look of disgust on her face was barely concealed in time for her to look the smith again in the eye. She could see that there would be no room to manoeuvre with words or actions. Lest, she offend the man.
Inhaling deeply, she carefully chose her next words.
"Three wagons of salvage and an additional five hundred denarii," she gave her curt response. "No more, no less."
The man gave her a wide grin, ear-to-ear, before spreading his arms wide over the sides.
"My pleasure to be doing business with you, lass!" he all but yelled.
Lorraine rolled her eyes at the man's exaggeration. Their talk then shifted to other matters, mainly in regards to the latest prices of attire and armour used for armies. She nodded after confirming the new trend set in the wake of the most recent conflict, opting to jot down the minute developments to better adapt her own host. When all was said and done, she turned to leave the abode but felt compelled to turn just as she was about to step out.
With her neck craning back to see the man, she watched quietly as he started work once more. She pursed her lips trying to piece together the right arrangement of words she'd wish to express. In the ended, it was -and always will be- the most straightforward path that won out.
"I'd have to insists on asking yet again just why is it that you're so nice to me," she asked, her gaze steady. "I'm sure there are plenty of better choices to offer such a uncommon relic."
The inquiry was heard loud and clear over the sounds of hammer and anvil. The response that came was even louder.
"One too many starry-eyed no names to count come through the forge," he said. "Not even a fifth reach back 'ere to get their armour fixed. You're the first that seems ta have a proper head on their shoulders and has the looks of someone fitting for the wear. No need to complaint for someone looking for the right stuff."
Lorraine stared back in utter silence as she processed what he meant. She knew well enough how useless it was to press once the man started his work. Hence, she merely gave a mute shrug before stepping out of the doorway.
Her next stop was the arms seller. Unlike the armourer, this one was a pure-blooded merchant that acted as a middleman for all the artisans. It was perhaps keen foresight that the man was an actual 'good' merchant and not some cutthroat with a good dress.
"Beg your pardon, milady, but must you be so adamant in keeping this decrepit thing? Such crude, and more so rotted tool is surely unbefitting to be kept in your ownership anymore. My, I could even have my associates craft you a much better single bladed sword if you wish."
She repressed a sigh. First her armour, now her preferred scythe was getting buried under the hatchet. The weapon in question had served her for the better part of two years since she'd first found it by chance at a rural town. Granted, she had it refit time and time again, but never had she been pressed for change as now, and at the worst of places.
Unlike the armourer's closed abode, the arms smithy was an open space with more than a dozen people working their craft day after day. It was a testament to how many blades they could create per day that so many were on display at the large stall in front of the building, ranging from simple knives to a couple of two-handers. Sadly, the choice for single-edged blades was rather lacking.
"Is it truly not possible to save the blade at least? I'm far more comfortable with slash and hews than I am with a trust. Better so, that I spent more time on horseback than on the ground."
The man put a finger to his lips in thought. A certain gleam in his eyes heralded a new offer.
"Let me see what I can do for you."
She eyed him as he headed to one of the racks behind him and pulled two weapons before walking and presenting them on the table. The first was a long seax, and the other a shortened spear barely reaching four feet in length. The former, whilst still being practical, had a small degree of décor whereas the former was simply balanced and well-made.
"What's this?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
"Why, your new weapons of course!"
"I wanted my weapon repaired. If I'd needed a new weapon then I'd asked for it."
"But with all due respect my dear," he countered, both hands placed firmly on either ends of the table. "For someone of your calibre to be relying on a glorified farming implement for war is
"Four hundred denarii," said the merchant. "Set price."
"Deal," she handed him two pouches, and waited as the man counted and checked for false dealings. Upon feeling satisfied with the count and authenticity of the coins, he gave her a pleased look.
"A pleasure dealing with you, milady." he added with a short bow, making her roll her eyes in response.
"How goes the other order I made?" she inquired, changing the topic. "Will the new batch of weapons be ready on time?"
The merchant seemingly paused in them midst of keeping away the second pouch. His momentary freeze didn't last as he visibly relaxed and turned to face Lorraine.
"Fortunately, yes," he nodded. "I must say though, please refrain from doing such spontaneous requests in the future. Had it been not for the advance pay, there would've been no convincing my associates to take up such task."
"Oh, most certainly," was her reply. "I'll be sure to spread the word out for all the demon chiefs and their next-in-lines. Wouldn't want to be caught fighting an enemy that didn't even have a chance to arm their own men, yes?"
She didn't bother to wait and see if the man had anything to say in response.
The rest of the day went without a hitch. As she was in town, Lorraine opted to help in the household affairs by buying the necessities for dinner. It was the least she could do for her dear friend who has helped for the past year.
In regards to her band, she was assured her aides could carry out the task of reorganising for now. Gilroy would've approached her far earlier if there had been something urgent or noteworthy regarding the management, and Analach hadn't been seen after their earlier separation, so she assumed that he hadn't screwed up and angered the men once more, a semi-regular occurrence. Her role would come much later when the new blood was ready to be properly introduced to their foes.
On the way back, she happened to past by the same marketplace from earlier that day. It was good fortune, perhaps, since it happened to be selling fish. She was happy enough to spend extra of her own allowance this time, considering it'd been weeks since her last stop within the settlement.
Just as she finished paying for the goods, the guffaw of a group of men from behind attracted her attention. There, she spotted a group wearing simple linen and trousers, but what separated them from the crowd was familiarity. Specifically, she recognised two of them for their wounds. The evening crowd was mostly confused as to why the men were festive, but not her for she knew why.
Normally, she'd just ignore it as it wouldn't do good for a superior to nose about their subordinates business on what by all accounts was an 'off-day'. However, the same couldn't be said when they clearly were making a fuss in the middle of a settlement where their actions will undoubtedly have repercussion no matter how small.
A soft reminder was in order.
"Evening, gentlemen." She greeted.
Immediately heads turned, the group consisting of five men were in various states of shock ranging from frozen in place to wide-eyed, gaping mouths. From where they sat on stools around a round table, the sight of her standing before them must've made for a frightening encounter. A thump was heard and she turned down to see a bottle conveniently enough roll right to her feet. The smile on her face couldn't have been anymore terrifying for the men at that moment.
She hummed. "Enjoying your evening splendidly, I see."
One of the men at the back raised their hands. "Pardon us, milady, we just came to enjoy the evening here. No harm, right? It wasn't as if we'd cause a scene to upset you."
"Analach agreed with this?" she queried.
The silence she got was very reassuring. Regardless, she'd gotten enough muse out of the situation.
"I'll leave you to it then," she turned to one of the ones she was more familiar with. "Gregor, see to it that you and Temples are sober enough to carry the others back. I'm sure you are aware what the morning punishment will be if you all get caught."
The man in question sported a wound across the bridge of his nose. A veteran footman of his own right, and one she knew had done this more than once and had even gotten caught in some occasions. His cleanly shaved scalp was another feature that separated him from the rest. He gave her an across the chest salute and bowed in response.
"Good man," she nodded in return, before picking up the bottle and taking a whiff of the contents within. Good brandy, she thought. This had to been from Geofu, she was sure of it. Against her own wishes, she placed the bottle on the table alongside tossing a small pouch with silver coins in it.
"This one goes well with cheese," she explained. "There's a stall a fair bit back there that still has some, go get it."
The men nodded, and she left without another word and continued making her way back. She admitted to still being glad that she knew some of them, even if it were just past acquaintances. Skies above, she was still waiting for the full list and report from the camp of the damage done. Not that she wasn't already aware just how many friends she'd buried by this point.
Dinner had been wonderful as always.
The soothing warmth from the fireplace matched the candles illuminating the room. Her abode sported a space sizeable enough to fit a long table and accompanying six chairs. For now, most were vacant of occupants with the exception of two, that being her and Matilda who busied herself with knitting.
The warrior maiden was reading through the reports coming in from the camp outside the walls. Thus far, she was pleased that in a combination of refined techniques and some magic potions, the majority of the company would be up and about within two days. It also explained just why those five men from earlier could get away drinking.
Unfortunately, the number of men they loss in the last battle represented a serious setback for her future plans. Of her aides and field captains, only half remained including Gilroy, and the lower ranks were even worse as some had expressed a desire to leave after they'd recovered. Overall, the mood in the camp was dour unless they did something.
"Staring at those parchments isn't going to cure your problems, you know?"
Lorraine looked up at the other resident of the house. Sometimes, she felt a familiar grip in her heart seeing the serene yet entranced expression of the other woman as she continued her knitting. All the while, Lorraine knew she was more than capable in carrying out any level of conversation.
She let out a long, drawn-out breath. "You know by now how much we suffered in our latest exploits. The reward for the venture isn't going to be enough. We can't expect to replace so many men anytime soon."
"And sitting here isn't going to change that either, yes?"
"What do you expect me to do?" Lorraine retorted. "Ride out and holler at every village between here Feoh and Ken to see how many bored men they have to throw my way? Times aren't as easy as they were five years back."
"They weren't as easy back then as well. Did you forget what those first two years were like?"
'She had to throw that in my face,' was the foul thought that came to her mind.
Yet, the other woman's retort wasn't without reason. Her company had started with twenty men-at-arms that were reduced to five within the first week. In truth, she didn't think she'd have made it this far without the aid of her closest companions. Starting with encountering Analach, then being approached by Gilroy and finally recruiting the late Saul, these three had been of so much help she worried at one point that they were after something reprehensible from her. If she hadn't been set straight one night, she would've thought to flee from her own warband at some point.
Despite all that, here she was now leading a force many times the number that she started with. Granted, she didn't see herself that stupid enough to think that everything would go smoothly, and she had the scars to prove. Still, the image of her riding beside her amassed host of six hundred strong had never left her mind. Not then, and not ever.
"I want to give up, Matilda," the maiden's palms moved to cover her face. "This isn't going to work anymore. I can't keep going deluding myself into believing I'm some war valkyrie that'll change history. P-perhaps, a letter to the House is in order. I can try to find a-,"
Slam!
"Don't," Matilda growled. "Finish that sentence."
Lorraine didn't visibly react to the sudden aggression. Her gaze fell and her hands lowered just enough to expose the thousand-yard stare behind it. She remained in that posed even as the other lady moved to kneel by her side.
"You started this with reason," she began, her voice soothing. "Do you really want to prove her right?"
Mud, crooked teeth and dirtied sun-kissed hair flashed in her mind's eye. The image was akin to a punch to the heart.
"No," came her soft response. Void of emotion, but not of resolve.
"Then see to it that you keep your end of the bargain, milady," she brought her hands to clasp Lorraine's in a firm grip. "For those lost on the long road, and to those yet to join us. Make it so that they're their fires burn yours brighter than the moon and sun."
Hearing this, she managed a small smile. "You have a funny ways with words don't you Matilda?"
"It comes with the territory of a strange lady I'm serving for," she smiled back.
Knock! Knock!
The sound of fist on wood broke the warm atmosphere they had.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Sparing a glance to one another, the handmaiden tilted her head in a silent inquiry. Matilda eventually sagged in relief when she noticed Lorraine rolling her eyes and shaking her head thereafter. Standing up, she made for the door already knowing just who was at the other side at this hour.
Opening the entrance by a crack, she peaked out and saw a familiar face with brown hair standing in front of the doorway. Immediately, she noted the man's unease.
"Uhm, hey Lorraine," his voice bled unease whilst shuffling in place. "A-Am I interrupting something at this hour?"
"Who and what do they want Analach?" she asked bluntly.
This made her officer wince. "For the record, I'm really sorry for interrupting you this night, but the seal on this says otherwise."
He handed her a rolled-up parchment through the crack. If the magic radiating seal wasn't a dead giveaway, then the fact the parchment was one of the highest qualities she'd seen was enough of a dead giveaway as to where it's from.
She swiped the thing from his hand and quickly tore the seal and unfolding its contents. Skimming through the contents, it would be the signature at the bottom that made her feel like an invisible hand was squeezing her heart. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to throw the message into a fire and sent the poor errand boy back where he came from with nothing but her spits and screams.
Instead, she rolled it back up once more and tucked it into her left sleeve. She then turned to her subordinate.
"Get Misha prepared to ride by sunrise," was her order. "Have an entourage assembled, lance, wall and sticks."
Her skirmisher gave his own chest salute before disappearing into the night. The moment she couldn't see him, she closed the door and locked it. After double checking to see that it was secured, she leaned her back on it and rubbed her face with both palms, a groan escaping her mouth.
"Let me guess, work or trouble?" Matilda asked, currently seated in Lorraine's chair.
"I don't want to go to Ken," she grumbled.
"Ah, what a splendid coincidence!" the handmaiden expressed. "Why, I have just the list and clothes for the occasion."
"Curses Mats," she sneered. "Can't you see the pain this brings your mistress?"
"Yes, I can. No, I don't care," she got up and began collecting the plates and cups. "Now, I say you should get to sleep. You've got a long trip ahead of you tomorrow."
As her friend disappeared into the kitchen, Lorraine let out one last frustrated sigh before stomping towards the ladder and going up. The sound of her feet slamming on the wood of the steps was very audible.
"I better not find imprints on the stairs, milady!"
"Shut up!"
A/N: Honestly, wasn't expecting to update this story of all things. But hey, this is a nice change of pace from my other ones.
So not much happening this time around, but that's okay. I think this by far has the second fastest pace next to Allied Stars. Kaleidoscope possibly having the slower burn of my working trinity.
Thanks to those that follow. Feel free to hit up how you think the story goes. This does follow a Mount&Blade style of army building and I already have an idea of the progression tree for Eostian Free Armies. However, feel free to add input. Who knows, somebody may get lucky and see their ideas in.
See you then! Until next chap!