Valkyrie Profile:
Lenneth Novelization AU:
Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile or any other tri-Ace properties. Please support the official release. Valhalla Calling Me belongs to Gavin Dunne/Miracle of Sound. Lifeblood-A Viking Drinking Song, by Wyndreth Berginsdottir and Karen Unrein Kahan.
Chapter Two:
The Princess and the Mercenary I
Arngrim
A bestial scream rang out through the forest, so deafening the world seemed to shake because of it. Deep in the Artolian forest outside the city, man and beast squared in a desperate battle. The clatter of armor was accompanied by the shouted commands and battle cries. Swords tore through flesh, claws and teeth shredded metal and bone, arrows flew, and all the while, the pounding footfalls echoed in the mist and trees.
A large gorilla-like beast with dark purple fur leapt upon the summit of a hill, holding the limp, mangled form of what used to be a man in one hand. The beast let out another earsplitting howl, stomping its feet menacingly at an opponent who stood at the mound's base. He was a young man with fair features, sharp piercing blue eyes, and very light blonde, wavy hair. He wore heavy plate-mail and carried a halberd, a weapon that was both a spear and an axe. The young man looked up at the beast without fear.
The hairy menace then threw the dead man at him, but the knight ducked and side stepped to avoid it, never taking his eyes off his enemy even as the corpse flew past mere inches past him. The ape monster then leapt high into the air with its fists raised intending to crush the man. The armored fellow drew back his weapon, readying to strike as well. An instant before the ape beast's fists bore down on him, the man side-stepped again, pivoting on his feet to better position himself to raise the axe-blade. The creature struck the earth right where he'd been. Before it could recover, the man took a single well-aimed swing which beheaded his opponent. The beast's body fell into the bushes, lifeless.
"Sir Lawfer, is that you up there?" a voice called from behind.
"None other," the youthful knight replied.
From down the trail, more armored knights ran toward him, led by a man in light leather armor carrying a double-crossbow. Lawfer turned to meet them. The archer regarded him with his one good eye. The hazel color of his pupil made it seem gray. The other eye, his right, he had lost in a battle he had not deigned to disclose. He was a thin, average-sized man near his middle age with somewhat gaunt features, wavy brown hair which was going gray, which had only lightly touched his thin beard and mustache.
"Officer 1st Class," one of the knights greeted.
"Sir Lawfer," the archer. "We've scattered the beasts of the forest, but the harpies are killing us out there!"
"We best not let anyone break formation, Janus. Now come, we can use your skill with the bow," Lawfer replied.
"Ay," Janus replied, shouldering his double-crossbow. "I have already suggested to one of the commanders we rely on the trees for cover until the Captain's archery unit arrives and can be maneuvered into position."
"Have you been able to get any good strikes from the ground?" Lawfer asked him.
"Mostly with this," Janus replied, unshouldering the double-crossbow. "We need those other archers."
"Very well," Lawfer answered. "Let us regrou…"
Before Lawfer could say another word, something burst from the tree-line behind him. A massive ogre with blood in its fangs was suddenly right next to him with its clawed hand raised already. Janus was the first to react, firing both his bolts, one into its upper chest, and the other into the side of its neck. The creature staggered only slightly and went in for the kill as Lawfer and the knights raised their blades to intercept it.
Then the beast's arm flew free from its body. Lawfer and the other men gaped. None of them had dealt the blow. The ogre howled, stumbling in disoriented pain. Then a large blade erupted through the front of the creature's skull, sending blood and chunks of bone everywhere. The beast fell to its knees, revealing the identity of Lawfer's savior.
"Arngrim!" one of the men cried.
Lawfer, for his part, was still too stunned to speak, and merely faltered back a step. Arngrim withdrew his claymore from the skull of the ogre and shouldered it. When the beast had fallen to the earth, dead, he apathetically stepped over it in a single stride. Arngrim was a tall, hulking broad-shouldered giant of a man. He approached Lawfer with a stern look. His brown hair was matted with sweat from the battle, and his rugged, scarred face had splatters of his enemies' blood on it. When he spoke, his voice was a deep, rumbling growl most of the time.
"It's that mercenary the captain hired," one of the knights said in a hushed tone. "He lives up to his reputation."
Arngrim ignored the chatter, still focusing on Lawfer.
"How many times do I gotta tell ya?" he sternly said. "Head and eyes always watching for a knife someone's lookin' to slip between yer ribs. Always. I can't always be around to protect ya."
"Y… yes!" Lawfer stammered.
The cries of battle continued to ring out from both down and up the trail. The battle had spread and splintered all over the woods. It was no surprise, they hunted the hellbeasts of the wilds, not disciplined Villnore soldiers. Arngrim pointed at the knights.
"Well, come on then. Lawfer gave you nancies orders," Arngrim barked.
Lawfer chuckled and nodded for the men to step in line. Then their young officer pointed up the hill with his halberd.
"Onward!" Lawfer shouted.
They quickly marched up the hill. As the ground leveled out, the trees gave way to a clearing, and a grisly scene. The frayed remains of their comrades and harpies alike lied strewn everywhere in pools of their own crimson bodily fluids. Two knights surviving knights were back-to-back swinging at the air frantically as harpies circled overhead and made dives at them. One of the younger winged beasts dove, talons first, and barely avoided a taste of the panicking man's steel.
Although Lawfer and his men paused, Arngrim marched forward alone, and unafraid. Janus held up his reloaded double-crossbow and moved under a tree while taking aim.
One of the harpies noticed Arngrim approaching and turned to face him. Arngrim stopped a few yards from the circling feathered semi-humanoid monsters.
"Hmph," he muttered disdainfully.
He readied his sword, and unleashed a battle cry, stirring more harpies into action. Three of them shrieked and dove for him. Lawfer and bolted toward Arngrim to assist.
"Come on, then!" he shouted to the other knights.
Arngrim banked left, throwing his weight into it allowing him to narrowly avoid the first harpie's lunge. The second harpie course corrected and zipped in close in. Arngrim lunged forward to greet it, thrusting his sword upward in a powerful slice. The blade cut right through its groin and stomach, disemboweling it. In the same stroke, Arngrim used its own momentum to cast it to the side right into the third harpie.
The first harpie landed not far away and tried to take off again, but Lawfer pounced at it, driving his halberd through its skull, splitting it in half. The harpie's body to fall face-first into the earth as he pulled his blade from its face.
The other knights raced past him, forming a wall of shields, stopping several harpies dead in their tracks leaving them clawing futilely at the smooth round surfaces. Then it was the knights' turn to counterattack. Chaos broke loose as the area turned into a mess and stabbing, raking talons, and screams. One harpy managed to grab hold of one of the knights and took off with him. A crossbow bolt impaled its wing and the creature fell to the ground with the screaming man it held.
Janus watched where the harpy fell, and darted out, whipping out a dagger from his belt as he ran over to assist the would-be victim. He dodged and weaved through the battlefield, avoiding both friend and foe as he ran. He spotted the wounded knight wrestling with an equally wounded harpy and broke into his top speed to reach them.
The harpy knocked the man to the ground with a headbutt to his chest. Before it could pounce on him, something jumped onto its back. The harpy barely had a chance to shriek in protest before its throat was slit from ear to ear. The downed knight was showered in its blood as the beast stood unable to move for a moment before it fell backwards. Janus leapt over its carcass and quickly helped the wounded knight to his feet. It wasn't but a few seconds before they were set upon by now and the two men were forced defend each other.
"Eep!" one of the knights unintentionally let out a squeal as Arngrim's sword passed inches from his being.
The large warrior glowered at him.
"Nuisances!" Arngrim shouted the knights who invading his space. "Stay out of my way!"
His attention quickly returned to the harpies, which roared and howled angrily at him after seeing him slay its brethren. They all but forgot the two scared and barely surviving knights they'd previously taken delight in tormenting and turned to this new prey who dared to stand against them. In turn, Arngrim smiled viciously up at them.
Lawfer was immediately at Arngrim's side.
"At least let me assist you!" he insisted.
Arngrim grunted but did not force him away as the harpies bore down on them. He blocked a pair of talons with his sword before smacking the beast with the flat of the blade. He ducked under another set of pincers that tried to grab at his head. A third harpy came for him. He slashed its legs, making it break off the assault. It flew away, howling in pain.
A fourth outright grabbed his claymore in its talons and tried it wrench it from his grip. Arngrim simply grabbed its ankles and used his weight to his advantage, forcing the thing to the ground. Its feathered, humanlike face was twisted into a sneering roar as its mouth opened wide, revealing sharp teeth. It lunged forward to take a bite out of his face, but Arngrim punched it in its mouth, sending chunks of its teeth everywhere. It squawked and screamed as it tripped over. Arngrim took up his sword again and thrust it through the thing's body.
Another swooped in from the side, arching its body sideways to grab Arngrim around his middle. Instead of trying to retreat as it expected, he leapt straight at it, driving his blade through its middle. He bore it to the ground and stood on it, plunging his sword deep into its body.
Behind him, Lawfer had made one of them fall to the ground with a pained yelp and subsequently beheaded it before it could recover. To the side, Janus was helping another wounded man toward the cover of the trees. One of the flying creatures circled over them, forcing the archer to set injured knight down and train another shot on the fiend.
He fired as it dove for him, but he missed and was forced to leap to the side. The harpy flew past and then circled around as Janus rolled. He had one shot left before he'd need to reload, so it'd have to count. This time, he aimed for a wing. He pulled the second trigger, hitting it right at a joint. Then he rolled out of the way as the harpy came crashing down right where he'd just been laying.
The creature roared at him, paying the wounded knight no mind even as he drew his sword. It didn't notice him until he'd plunged it through the creature's neck. The knight slumped against its carcass as he and Janus paused to give each other acknowledging nods.
Lawfer pulled the blade of his halberd from a downed enemy as another came in from behind. He clubbed it with the blunt end of his halberd, dazing it enough to make the bird-humanoid hybrid fall plat on the ground before him. Lawfer took the opportunity to turn his weapon over in his hands before cutting its head from its neck. Not far away, Arngrim was still having a right merry time killing and maiming their quarry.
He laughed as he kicked another harpie that'd landed next to him.
"Think anyone can defeat me?!" Arngrim shouted boastfully.
Arngrim grabbed the screaming thing by its mane and slammed its face into the ground. Then he raised his boot and stomped down hard. A loud, sick crunch pierced the air.
"Not you! Not any of you devils!" he shouted.
One prospective harpy swooped in behind Arngrim while he was busy with one of its kin. Janus saw the beast making its move, aimed, and fired both bolts at it. The first just grazed it, but the second hit it in one of its legs, making it pull out of the dive, squawking. Arngrim turned and saw what happened. He glanced from the retreating harpy to Janus. A silent mod passed between the two men.
"Oh dear. Oh dear, where is everyone? Do I dare call for them? Monsters prowl everywhere."
A lone warrior-woman jogged along a narrow back path used by animals and likely thieves and other vagabonds as she searched the area for her comrades. She was a young woman somewhere in her twenties, a fair-skinned, amber-eyed brunette with her hair tied back in a braided bun by a deep blue bow. She wore partial plate-armor over a pink knee-length tunic. Her iron gear consisted of an iron cuirass across her chest and shoulder pauldrons, elbow guards, gauntlets, and armor plated faulds hanging from her waist, protecting her extremities. She also wore iron greaves over her leather knee-high boots.
The sounds of battle raged all around her, ranging from distance echoes to raging clashes that sounded a mere stone's throw away. The mission to exterminate the beastly hordes of the forest stormed throughout the woodland.
"Kashell. Kashell!" the woman dared only call softly. "'Tis me, Celia. Where do you get to? Aelia, Lawfer, Arngrim, Janus, can anyone hear me?"
Celia rounded a bend in the path. Up ahead, it ended, becoming open ground interrupted only by the trees, but lighter underbrush. She slowed, hesitating to leave the cover of the path, with its high semi-walls of a bushes and tall grass. Just as she was passing the final threshold, she heard footsteps behind her. She grabbed for the hilt of her sword, but arms her were snared in the grips of two pairs of hands. One of them clamped over her mouth as she tried screaming for help, but behind the gloved fingers, it came out a muffled moan as she was dragged into the bushes.
She thrashed and struggled, and kicked against her abductors before she finally wriggled the hand from her mouth and bit down as hard as she could.
"Yee-ouch!" a familiar feminine voice yelped.
"Let go me of me now!" Celia demanded while twisting herself around to get a look at them. "I'll screa…!"
She trailed off when she did see them and stared dumbfounded, recognizing two of her compatriots. They both had fingers put to their lips, motioning for her to be quiet. With a pout, she pulled free of their loosened grip and sat down beneath the cover of the bush across from them, giving them both a hard stink-eye.
"Kashell, Aelia, what are you two doing?" she hissed.
"Sorry, sorry, but we had to get you out of sight," Kashell apologized.
He held up his hands up as if surrendering. She just crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at them both, silently demanding an explanation. Kashell awkwardly picked something that gotten wedged under his armor, but remained silent.
He was a young man about Celia's age, tall and thin with long, thin, almost feminine features, long hair so dark it looked blue tied back in a ponytail with a white shat. He had blue eyes to seemingly match his hair. He wore a yellow tunic and dark tanned trousers. He was armored in similar plate-mail as hers', also having no helmet or protective gear on his thighs. He wore a claymore across his back like Arngrim.
"Trolls," the woman, Aelia, spoke up.
She was a green-eyed beauty with a short red hair. She wore green plate-armor over her torso and arms and had iron greaves over her leather boots as well, also leaving her gray breeches unarmored for movement. A green decorative circlet adorned her forehead, the only traditionally feminine thing she wore. She wore a halberd across her back in a leather holder.
Aelia held up a finger to quiet Celia and Kashell.
"Trolls, everywhere," she repeated the warning quietly.
Celia moaned, letting her head flop to the side in wariness.
"Just great. The ones that really don't like to die are about," she murmured.
"At least we have Aelia and her secret weapon with us," Kashell was optimistic, but neither of the women with him were.
Aelia reached up and nervously fingered the gem she'd had embedded in the forearm plate of her right gauntlet.
"Easy for you to say," her tone was grave. "You're not the one fighting to stay in control when I use the gem to turn dragon."
"Trolls," Kashell pointed out.
"I know," Aelia growled between clenched teeth. "I still don't like to use it unless I have to."
Celia raised her hands to hold them both back so an argument couldn't start.
"Alright, you two, let's just figure out how to rejoin the Captain's brigade," she said.
Aelia turned to her, already beginning to cool off.
"Sure thing," Kashell said, and behind him with his thumb. "When I last saw them, they were…"
"HELP!" a panicked voice rang out from deeper in the forest.
All three mercenaries grabbed their weapons.
Not far away, a wounded man fled for his life. A bleeding, dirty, sweating mess of a knight lurched forward as fast as his wounds would allow. His left leg had a deep gash he'd attempted to bandage, but the bleeding hadn't stopped. It had reduced his mobility to a hopping limp. He winced in agony with each terrified hobble forward he made. His broken sword arm was braced against his chest by his good arm.
Behind him, a ten-foot beastly, bulky giant of a troll lumbered after him. Or at least what the man thought was a troll. The thing's body was wrapped in metal armor that looked almost like metal casts holding a broken form together. The horrid thing wielded a large log it used as a cudgel against its enemies. The bludgeoning tool was both rivetted directly onto its right forearm and lashed in place by iron rings. Over its face was featureless dome of a helmet, so it was to anyone's guess how the abominable creature made its way around as if it could see.
The three mercenaries ran around the trees, leaping over any obstacles in their way as they dashed to catch up the fleeing man and his pursuer. They paused, peeking around either side of a large tree. Aelia gestured for Celia and Kashell to go around behind the troll. They nodded and broke off from her while she took off straight again, intending to cut the troll off.
The wounded knight came upon some very uneven ground, causing his good leg to give out. He fell to the earth and down a short incline before coming to rest. He let out a strangled cry as pain shot through his broken arm. A heavy footstep pounding against the dirt brought his attention back to the metal-plated troll. He rolled onto his back and stared straight up at his assailant.
The troll stopped a few paces away by its reckoning and started to raise its log club in preparation to smash him. The knight couldn't move, he couldn't even scream. He could only lie there knowing he was about to die.
"Ah-ha!" a voice cried out.
A figure dropped from somewhere above the troll onto its shoulders. The beast's muffled bellow was that of surprise as it stumbled sideways a couple paces. As it tried to reach up, Aelia stabbed the creature in the upper back with the spearhead of her halberd. An agonized gurgling grunt belted out from behind the thing's face-plate as reached up to grab her while also trying to shrug them off. The redhead simply pivoted on her feet in rhythm with its movements to remain balanced. She yanked out her spear and slashed the troll's hand, making a long cut across its palm.
The troll yelped and tried to budge its attacker from its back by swinging at it with its club. Aelia simply jumped down to the ground, between the troll and knight. The knight continued to cower on the ground, only vaguely aware of what was going on.
He hadn't caught Aelia's name earlier, but he'd seen her was among the mercenaries hired to help clear the forest of monsters with Arngrim and a few others.
The troll recovered, moaning out a challenge at her, and raised its arm-club again. She smiled confidently at it, holding up her halberd and preparing her next move.
"Come on, then!" she shouted. "None of us are getting' any younger! You shy or something!"
The troll swung its club across, but Aelia ducked and rolled in closer. She ended in a crouch and sprang up, slashing one of its ankles before backing off again. The troll stumbled and fell onto one knee, leaving itself momentarily open. Aelia tried to run back in for another blow, but the panicking wounded knight blindly grabbed for something to hold onto, which turned out to be one of her legs. Aelia yelped as she was yanked off-balance by the unexpected weight anchoring her in place. She landed facedown with a loud 'thud.'
She turned over kicked at the wounded man.
"Are you nuts? Let go of me!" she screamed.
A stomping footstep from the troll made her scream and she looked up as the log club loomed directly over them.
"I don't wanna die!" the knight pathetically wailed.
"LET GO! LET GO! LET GO!" the warrior-woman screamed as she frantically struggled to dislodge him.
In desperation, Aelia raised her gauntlet. Just as the enchanted gem in it started to glow, a familiar voice reached her ears, calling from somewhere behind the beast. Oh, it'd taken her friends more than long enough by Aelia's reckoning.
"Hang on, Aelia!"
Aelia arched her neck toward the voice at the same time the troll turned around to face this new attacker. Kashell shouted his own battle cry as he approached. Troll turned its back to Aelia and took a large step towards him, raising its bludgeon again.
"No…!" Aelia tried to protest.
The damn fool was about to get himself killed trying to fight a troll that way.
Then Celia darted out from behind a tree beside the troll. Aelia could just make out that out her form as she sprinted behind the hulking beast, slashing the tendons in the back of its legs as she went. The troll bellowed as it fell to his knees, only just stopping itself from falling facedown with its arms. Kashell saw his chance, leapt in, and drove his long sword through the troll's neck. The thing gargled and gagged as its black blood spewed everywhere, including all over its slayer.
Kashell retched from foul odor of the troll blood and withdrew, pulling his sword from the troll's jugular as it collapsed, twitching, and kicking its last as its life fluids pooled around it.
"Not bad, Kashell."
He looked toward Celia as she approached him smiling. Her sword lied across her shoulders with her hands resting on hilt and blade. All the while, her eyes and ears focused on their surroundings. There were no other enemies in the immediate area, but one could never be careful enough.
Kashell just smiled and shrugged easily.
"'Not bad', you say?" he pretended to sound wounded. "Killing a troll in just one stroke…"
"Two," his partner held up two fingers to punctuate the point. "My slash across the back of his legs were the first. You'd have been made into tenderized meat without my help."
Kashell chuckled.
"Eh, details, details, Celia," he said in mock dismissiveness.
In truth, he was staring fondly at her the whole time. Aelia let out a "bleh" watching the two converse.
"Oh, how sweet," Aelia sarcastically muttered.
Kashell and Celia turned to their friend, still on the ground with the wounded knight clinging to her leg.
"If you two lovebirds are done flirting…" Aelia growled and pointed to the fool who'd nearly gotten her killed. "Could you please help me out here?"
Oh, my!" Celia cried with secondhand embarrassment for her friend.
Seeing a man making so much unwelcome contact with Aelia's leg scandalized her. Celia's face turned stern as she marched around the troll over to the knight and grabbed him by the ear.
"Ack!" he cried out.
He finally let go of Aelia, who promptly crawled away from him. Kashell also sauntered over, giving their fallen foe a wide birth. He held out a hand to help Aelia up, but she climbed to her feet on her own, deliberately ignoring the offer. He shrugged and let his hand to his side.
"What are you thinking grabbing a lady like that?" Celia scolded the wounded knight.
All he could do was cry "Sorry! Sorry!" over and over again.
"Well, what's done is done. Come on then. Let's get your fixed up," Celia said.
Looking on the sight, Kashell shook his head. Aelia glared at the knight, red-faced, causing Kashell to chuckle again. She turned her indignant ire towards him, and he held up his hands in surrender.
"Steady now," he said.
With a "humph," she looked away with her chin high.
"Anyway," Kashell decided to change the subject. "How does Artolia get by with these guys?"
"Right?" Aelia huffed.
Shewas conspicuously pretending the whole thing never happened, even as Celia tended to the knight's wounds. She'd sat him up against a tree with the cuisses removed from his left thigh and set to the side so she could wrap the gash up.
"If the king didn't always hire us out, either the monsters or Villnore would have overtaken Artolia by now," Aelia muttered.
Kashell chuckled again, and then stopped as he thought of something. He turned Aelia with a question on his mind.
"Hey, how come you didn't use the Dragon Gem?"
Aelia shrugged.
"I was going to. You two got here right before I could try. Shame you stopped me. I'd have loved to give a weepy over there a scare in dragon form."
"As long as you don't eat him," Kashell said.
Kashell started to laugh at his own comment but stopped when he heard a familiar grumbling growl behind him. Ice-cold dread filled him as he turned around and saw the troll rising onto its free hand and knees again. He and Aelia backed away as it began pushing itself up with its log club. By now, Celia and the knight looked up as the two other backed towards them. Then they all watched in stunned silence as the slashes on the back of its legs healed and the unnatural thing stood back up. Then it turned to look behind at them, growling angrily. The sword wounds on both the bottom and top of its neck closed up, and it was as if they had never laid a hand on it.
Kashell and Aelia continued to back up. Celia didn't wait. She grabbed the wounded coward and wrapped his good arm around her shoulders. She hoisted him up, ignoring his pained grunt. In a moment, it had started again. The troll slammed the trunk club down, right next to Kashell. He tried to flee, but it was quick enough hit him on a second try, knocking Kashell against a tree. Aelia's eyes filled with worry as she watched him bounce off the trunk and fall limply to the ground. She looked at the troll with a mix of fury and determination. First things first, she had to get away from everyone before she turned.
"Hey, ugly!" she shouted.
She ran in and slashed the troll across the side as she sped by. The fiend yowled and turned to follow her. It spun its club around in a long arc to splatter her, but Aelia dove to the ground. She felt the wind rustle her hair as it swung past just over her. Instinctively, she rolled to the right. Immediately after she did, the club slammed into the soft earth where she'd been.
Even as Aelia jumped to her feet, the troll brought its bludgeon down again. Aelia gracefully quick-stepped as it pounded the ground right to her, and she ducked low as it tried to catch her with a swipe as it had Kashell. Then the club came down again, and again, and again. Each time, Aelia jumped and sidestepped.
The troll growled as it became angrier and charged at her. Aelia dove behind its legs and ran toward Kashell. Behind her, the troll was trying to force itself to stop, but was clumsily sliding across the earth, nearly falling over again. She turned and as it faced her again. Alright, she had placed herself and her opponent on the board where she wanted them both. With her back turned to her friends, she could finally use the gem without worry. Not far away, Celia emerged quietly from the brush, having safely tucked the wounded knight behind a bush while she aided her friends.
"Damn, Kashell actually stabbed this thing right through the jugular," Aelia thought, teeth clenched.
Her hand moved to the gem in her gauntlet, the dragon gem. Behind her, Celia had crept over to Kashell, and started shaking him back to consciousness looking between him and their enemy.
"Come on back, and you get to see my party trick," Aelia taunted.
The troll dug at the earth with its feet, preparing another charge.
"Not on your life," Aelia thought.
In the same instant the troll began to charge, she grabbed the dragon gem and felt its energy fill her body. She shook pleasurably as her body exploded into swirling, misty light, and let out a gasping cry.
"My soul burns!" she thought as the immense energy took her. "…Feels so good!"
The troll slowed and covered its face-plate as if blinded by the brilliant light. Kashell blinked several times as the flash brought him back to consciousness.
"The gem!" he murmured.
Celia also covered her eyes as their friend glowed with the dragon gem's power. Aelia's features twisted and morphed into that of a Komodo dragon-like beast's. She let out an inhuman roar and then opened her fanged maw, spewing fire out from the depths of her throat. The troll tried to back away, to run, but the oncoming wall of flame shot right through the area like a fiery bull and engulfed it.
Aelia's body spasmed as it reached its limit and she was forced to cut off the stream of flame before doubling over into a hacking, coughing fit. She held herself up by bracing her palms against her knees. With each whooping cough, smoke billowed from her mouth. The troll screamed once as it flailed around helplessly with its entire body burning. Without direction, it stumbled off, letting out rumbling wails of agony before it tripped and fell over the side of a ditch. It left in its wake the horrific smell of its burning flesh. It laid facedown, trying ineffectively to drag itself across the ground, but each motion got weaker. After one more pitiful attempt, it finally collapsed, dead and burning.
Celia and Kashell had kept a close eye on the beast as it fled mindlessly into the woods and careening over the side of the ditch. They turned their eyes back to their friend, who was still wheezing. Kashell tried to get up, but his legs were still shaky.
"Here, here, lean on me," Celia offered.
Like with the knight, she wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pushed up with her legs. Once he was on his feet, he leaned against the tree for support. With that done, Celia turned to Aelia.
"Aelia, dear, are you alright?" she called.
More hacking and coughing from the warrior-woman was her answer. Aelia hugged herself as her morphed features contorted into a feral grimace. Celia reached into her belt, unhooking her waterskin from it and walked over to Aelia.
"Here," she said, offering the canteen. "This might help."
She tapped Aelia on the shoulder with it. In response, Aelia whirled around, howling animalistically as she grabbed her friend's wrists. Celia yelped as her redhead stepped in real close, invading her space with a toothy maw. Celia nearly screamed at her friend's still dragon-like features. Aelia let go of her wrist and latched onto Celia's shoulders, instead, still howling and snarling. The other woman pushed against Aelia's chest-plate to keep her away. Aelia snapped her teeth at her a few times, but didn't actually get close enough to take a chunk of flesh. Kashell gasped and did his best to run toward them.
"Aelia!" Celia cried.
Her friend hissed in response.
"Aelia!" she shouted, louder and firmer this time.
That did the trick. Aelia ceased and stared at Celia in dumbfounded silence for a moment. She looked down and realized what she'd just tried to do, and her grip on Celia loosened. As she regained control, her features slowly returned to normal until they were human again. Her arms fell to her sides as genuine remorse crossed her features.
"S-sorry…" she sputtered.
Celia breathed a sigh of relief, but still kept a wary eye on Aelia. Kashell came in behind her.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded.
Aelia gulped and reached for the dragon gem again, stopping just shy of touching.
"I… I don't know. It has… never been that bad before," she weakly replied.
She looked at Celia and Kashell, both still staring at her in concern. Kashell's eyes trailed down to the dragon gem in her gauntlet, looking at the thing which had been strictly beneficial for so long with a suspicion now.
"Ah…" Arngrim moaned as he remoted his shoulders to release some stress. "That was a good fight."
He sheathed his massive claymore across his back and sat down on the last felled monster while Lawfer stared at him incredulously.
"Good… fight?" he blanched. "I feel as though I am fortunate just to be alive."
Arngrim's response was an amused chuckle.
"The son of the knight captain losing his nerve after a little monster scuffle?" he joked.
Lawfer just rolled his eyes and ignored the barb.
"Oh, coming from anyone but you, I might challenge you to duel over that," the humor was apparent in Lawfer's voice.
"I'd take anyone else up on it," Arngrim answered.
Janus approached the main gathering of knights, carrying a fallen comrade over his shoulders. He set the man down next to the rest of the fallen, who were lined up in a neat row. Not far from them, others tended to those who were too wounded to move. He looked up from his work toward Arngrim and Lawfer.
"It will be difficult to move the wounded," Janus told them.
"Ay, and I hate to leave the dead out here," Lawfer looked around sadly at how many they lost.
"Without their final funeral rites, they may rise again as Undead," Janus told them.
Arngrim's only response was a single nod.
"Then we must hurry and hope we can fetch carts to recover them quickly. We must prioritize the wounded above the dead for now," Lawfer stated.
Lawfer then turned to the men.
"You four. Help Janus and me tend to the wounded. The rest of you, fashion travois for those who cannot walk at all," he ordered.
As soon as they were divided up, Arngrim rose to his feet while working out a kink in his shoulders one last time. He walked past the procession of men to get to work.
"Let's make this quick, so we can get the Hel out of here," he said.
Behind him, Lawfer winced.
"Don't use the gods' names in vain, Arngrim. Especially not a volatile one like Lady Hel," Lawfer scolded.
"Peh," Arngrim dismissed without turning around.
Instead of further arguing with him, Lawfer turned to the men.
"Fall in!" he ordered.
Over an hour later, Arngrim, Lawfer, and the knights marched down the trail going back from whence they had originally come. The going was slow. The lesser wounded were able to walk, leaning on makeshift crutches. Then there were the those who dragged those with the worst wounds on the travois, each one constructed out of 12 foot wood poles lashed together with three or four cross poles. The injured knights lied on the frames as they were moved across the ground. It wasn't comfortable, but it was better than leaving them for prospective harpies who come back smelling the blood.
Lawfer, Arngrim, Janus, and several of the other men all bore travois. Their were alert, eyes and ears trained on the forest around them.
The fact they had not come across anyone else yet was disconcerting. Yet, there was no evidence of anyone being dragged off into the woods. They also counted their blessings they had not encountered any monsters yet.
"How did you end up by yourself before Janus and the others caught up with you, anyway?" Arngrim asked.
"Quite involuntarily," Lawfer replied as he eyes the tree-line circumspectly.
Another ten minutes of silent walking passed without sign of the main force.
"Wait," Janus spoke with a start. "I hear something."
"Beasts?" Lawfer asked.
Everyone immediately tensed up, but Janus shook his head.
"No, sir. I think…"
He paused and set the travois down, and then dropped to his hands and knees. He put his ear to the ground, listening. Everyone watched the woods while Janus discerned what was approaching. After listening for a moment, he raised his head and looked up at Lawfer with a slight grin.
"Horses, sir."
Lawfer's eyes lit up. He looked farther up the trail.
"Fa… Captain Lawson's cavalry."
The distant sound of pounding hooves soon became audible to the rest as well. They gradually got louder until Captain Lawson's legion of riders came into view. Lawfer walked ahead of the rest and saluted as his father rode up to him. All but one of them were garbed in the same steel plate-armor as Lawfer and the other knights, except for one: the captain. His armor was gold-trimmed, and he wore a long, blue cape, complete with a helmet with a red feathery crest trailing down the center to the back. Lawfer was the very image of his father twenty years ago, and if the young warrior ever grew a beard and Imperial mustache like the captain had, it might become harder to tell them apart as they shared the same fair features, blue eyes, and blonde hair.
"Hail, Captain!" Lawfer greeted.
"Old man," Arngrim said, nodding to Lawson.
"Officer 1st Class," Lawson responded first to his son and then turned to the scarred mercenary. "Arngrim."
"We've eradicated the beasts in this part of the forest," Lawfer replied. "But we have many wounded, and we had to leave the fallen behind. They're on this very trail farther back, so they won't be difficult to find."
"Well done," Lawson congratulated him. Then he looked at Lawfer's company. "You've all served your kingdom honorably this day. The king will surely see to it that you are all rewarded, but first…"
Lawson then turned his horse around to address his own men. He gestured back the way the other party had approached.
"Now, let us extradite the dead before a curse has the chance to set in," he ordered. "The last thing we need is for their corpses to rise again as Undead and put us right back where we started."
"Alright, you miserable lot!" his righthand man shouted to the men. "Let's get this recovery mission under way before it becomes a moveable buffet!"
Lawfer looked at his father, about to speak, but he bit his lip. Lawson caught his look, though.
"Speak, Officer 1st Class," the captain prompted.
"How fares the battle, Captain?" Lawfer asked.
"Tis been won, for now, Officer 1st Class," Lawson replied. "Let us finish up here as soon as possible."
"Well, I think these corkscrew curls came out fine doing it myself."
The girl of about fourteen admired herself in the mirror, turning her head left and right, watching as each blonde lock swayed, but remained perfectly curled. Her shoulder-length hair was tied back with a red bow. She put a hand on the cheek of her round face, still rife with baby-fat. In fact, she lamented how much like a child she still appeared. Wide blues eyes stared back at her in the mirror's surface and pouty lips curved up into an impish smile.
"And this'll teach the maids to be late," she thought.
She could already see their faces when they saw her having dressed and prepared herself as well as they could ever do it. She bet they'd be more punctual after that. She stared down at her purple, ruffly formal gown. She smoothed out the wrinkles and stood up.
"Now, then, time for Princess Jelanda to be off for some magic practice," she thought.
Jelanda grabbed her decorative scepter she always kept with her as she started to leave her bed chamber. She'd etched magicks into it to help with her spellcasting in case she ever had to defend herself.
She left her room and headed down the hall for the back courtyard of the castle. As she went, Jelanda realized she was hearing a distant sound, but she ignored it at first. It wasn't until she reached the west wing that it became clear it was the sound of trumpets. The princess paused in the hallway, listening.
"Trumpets?" she wondered.
She went over to a nearby window and gazed out, trying to find the cause of it.
"It could not be the knights and the mercenaries father hired back from the forest already?" she thought.
From her current vantage, she could not see where from in town the commotion was coming, so she ran from window to window until she finally got a decent look. In the distance, she saw a precession of figures whose outfits reflected the sun's light. Ah, knights. They had returned. Had They actually finished clearing the forest of its recent monster infestation before nightfall, somehow? She would have never counted on it being finished so quick.
"They couldn't have just left the job half-finished. Captain Lawson would have them all flogged if they did," she thought.
A somewhat wry crooked grin crossed her features.
"Well, they certainly earned that reward money father is putting aside for them," Jelanda said.
Then she hitched up her dress and ran off toward the throne room at a jogging pace to make up for lost time. Magic practice had just been put on hold because the returning heroes were due their congratulations.
"Home sweet home," Arngrim's deadpan tone betrayed how he really felt.
"You still wish you were back in the woods fighting monsters, don't you?" an aged knight asked him.
Arngrim ignored him and just kept his eyes forward as the drawbridge of the East gate opened to let them in.
"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, for beyond lies the capitol of Artolian kingdom," he thought. "The shit-hole end of the continent."
Ahead of them, the dirt road of the castle town had been cleared with the city guard keeping the people from out of the way. Crowds had already formed on either side of the street beyond each baricade and cheered them on as they entered the city. Most of the cheers were for Lawson and his horseback cavalry, which was just fine with Arngrim. He wasn't really one for public adoration as long as he got paid. More than money, though, it was the thrill and the kill that brought him back to the battlefield every week.
Uniformly made stone houses and buildings stood tall behind the crowds on. While these structures were intact and repaired, they were without any luster. That had not always been the case, though. Even within Arngrim's lifetime, the homes and businesses of Artolia were once lavish, but that had all been when he was just a boy, less than ten summers old. Before the Civil War between Princes Kristoff and Langley broke their country. Many lamented the lost wealth those stone structures represented for Artolia. Unlike other kingdoms, whose major cities still had many wooden houses and places of business within their walls, Artolia had been rich enough once to make them all stone.
Located almost dead center in the south of the Nordrick continent, Artolia was nestled on the west side of the Artolian mountains, which ran roughly through the continent's middle straight from the south shores to the north ones. The fact they were still called the Artolian mountains was another remnant of the nation's former influence on other territories. It had been the cradle of humanity, but the Princes' bids for the throne against each other had left Artolia vulnerable for their competitors to swoop in and take control of important trading routes and chunks of territory. The children of that time were now the adults of today, struggling as the generation before never had to in order get by.
Artolia's rival nations during this upheaval were now it's economic and military superiors. They were the kingdom of Villnore, located to Artolia's North. The other was Crell Monferaigne, which dwelled in the Northeast on the east side of the Artolian mountains. Both had aggressively expanded their own territories and trade routes as Artolia waned.
The fact Artolia's most recent king was not a strong ruler did not help the situation any. Joshua. Yes, King Joshua, neither of the Princes, had been put on the throne while they were both away, killing each other. The newest monarch had tried to set things right, but it was too late. The damage had been done. Both the internal and external forces conspiring against Artolia reduced the once great kingdom to having sovereign reign over but a part of the southern region of Nordrick. No longer did they even control the southwestern most regions of Lassen and Gerabellum, leaving the south without a strong, unified front. Artolia was now just a small kingdom nestled right against the mountains, awaiting conquest from one of their enemies.
Across the North, Villnore and Crell Monferaigne thrived and grew, coming ever closer to the day they'd finally invade and crush Artolia into the dirt, assuming they found the time between their attempts to one-up each other. The only thing really protecting Artolia was a wilderness full of monsters, undead, and even demons haunting the forests outside of civilization. Any forces their enemies sent south would have endure the hunger of these creatures well enough to arrive in Artolia in fighting condition.
All of this was far from Arngrim's mind as he marched with the rest of the hired blades and the knights to the castle. He stared on with disinterest at the crowd as they sang their praises. Now that the job was done, he just wanted his money and to go home, but no, since his benefactor was the king, there would be a drawn-out public ceremony to endure.
"Screw that," Arngrim thought.
As they neared the castle, he already dreaded having to listen to that pathetic dishrag of a king for at least an hour. As their march continued, he looked around at the soldiers which had already gathered. He noticed many familiar faces, most of which he was surprised to see still lived. Many did not have the experience yet to be counted on in a pinch. Others had been in the business perhaps too long but couldn't afford to retire. The ones he wanted to see, however, were not present.
Arngrim's eyes returned to the front as he made a note to try looking for them, later.
"Aw, why the long face?" a familiar voice teased.
Before he could even react, an arm wrapped itself around Arngrim's neck and nearly dragged him off-balance as he was pulled into a headlock. Lawfer and Janus both glanced over to see what the commotion was. When they saw what was going on, Lawfer smiled.
"Ugh!" Arngrim grunted as he stumbled in his attacker's grip.
This elicited a hearty laught from his assailant.
"Hello, Aelia," Arngrim grumbled before wrenching himself free of the redhead.
He stood and glared down at the emerald-clad spear woman, who simply smirked back at him.
"Oh, don't even pretend you're actually mad," Aelia chuckled. "You were looking all serious because you were worried about us."
"Humph! You musta hit yer head out there," Arngrim growled.
This got another round of laughter out of the woman. Lawfer closed the distance between himself and his friends to join the conversation.
"Well, even if Arngrim won't admit it," Lawfer said. "I will. Good to see you made out alive, Aelia."
"Like there was any question I would?" Aelia shrugged confidently. Then with an impish grin, she added: "It's soft little wusses like you we gotta look after! You stick close to Arngrim like the Old Man told you?"
Lawfer's face turned bright red as he huffed indignantly.
"Now see here!" he cried.
"Yeah, that's about what I thought," Aelia smirked.
All the while, Arngrim simply stared ahead, stoically.
"Sourpuss to the end, eh, Arny?" another familiar companion asked as he stepped in beside Lawfer and Aelia.
"Kashell," Arngrim acknowledged.
His fellow claymore wielder saluted in response, giving an earnest smile.
"Glad to see we all made it. That is truly a blessing," Kashell said. "I long for Valhalla as much as the next warrior, I'm in no hurry to end our blood and thundering on Midgard just yet."
"That we can agree on," Lawfer nodded.
"The Valkyrie willing we'd all be together there, too," Aelia said.
Then the third person Arngrim been looking for stepped in line after the others.
"Hello, again!" Celia greeted sweetly, while waving to him.
"Celia," Arngrim nodded.
"Ah! Is that really all we get?" Celia demanded with her hands on her hips, putting on her best fake pout.
Arngrim suppressed a smirk in amusement, but he couldn't hide it completely.
"Ah! Ah! We got him! We made him smile!" Kashell cheered.
"Knock it off," Arngrim grunted dismissively.
"Aw, he's blushing!" Aelia teased.
"I said knock it off!" Arngrim growled.
Even so, his old comrades broke into more chortles at his expense.
"Ugh. This is why I work alone these days," he muttered grumpily.
"Another victory for the remnants of Fenrir's Brood," Aelia cheered, and threw her head back, doing her best impression of a wolf howling at the moon.
Kashell, Lawfer, Celia, and even Arngrim despite himself chuckled and then repeated the howl together. Janus stood to the side, wondering why they sometimes did that. He was about to ask, but his train of thought was broken by some nearby chatter from a pair of guards.
"Did you hear the news from Crell Monferaigne?"
"Crell Monferaigne?" Janus thought. "Is news from my home common this side of the mountains?"
The archer slowed down, training his ear on the chattering men.
"No, I have not," the other guard replied. "What of it?"
"The old king of Crell Monferaigne has passed away. The young prince just took over. I hope this doesn't mean we have to start repelling Crell Monferaigne in the near future," the first explained.
Janus's good eye widened as he listened.
"Where'd you hear this?" the second guard asked.
"The news came officially to King Joshua's throne room this morning."
"I must return home soon," Janus thought. "I need to check on the well-being of my father."
"Hey, Janus. What are ya doing?" Kashell called back to him. "We're about to go get our reward money!"
"Coming," Janus answered.
Before he went to catch up with the others, he could not help but glance back at the two guards one more time before going. A grim thought crossed Janus's mind as he rejoined his comrades:
"If Prince Ferdinand has taken the throne as intended, I can't predict what he might do with his father's old loose ends."
Within the hour, they were within King Joshua's court, bowed in ranks before the throne awaiting his arrival. The captains of the knights came first, standing near the base of the throne steps. Next were their subordinating officers and then the regular foot soldiers. Those who were hired for the job, were forced to stand in the back of the ranks, despite having done just as much as their conscripted comrades. Arngrim noted this bitterly as he, Aelia, Kashell, Celia, and Janus were behind the ranks of soldiers they had fought beside for during the battle.
Arngrim looked around at the throne room. The palace that'd housed generations of Artolian monarchs was always too fancy for his tastes. It's complex lines and elaborate design was supposed to reflect the elegance and refined culture of its inhabitants, to invoke an air of grandeur. The windows consisted of exquisite stain glass designs that lit the royal court.
"These idiots really like to show off," Arngrim oft thought when he entered to take a job from Captain Lawson. He wasn't the only one who thought so. Even some of the staff would complain about it when they came to the taverns, once adequately inebriated anyway.
There wasn't much time to ponder it today. After a short wait, the king and his entourage entered the throne room, walking the carpet with the soldiers and mercenaries lined up on either side, bowing to him. As he walked past the mercenaries in the back, King Joshua took one look at them and up his lips went in a sneer. However, he quickly covered it and waved to his knights as they showered him in cheers and adoration. He smiled for the knights and his commanders as pleasantly enough, though. It seemed that quick scowl had been missed by all, except for Arngrim. Oh, Arngrim had seen it very clearly. His eyes narrowed at the ungrateful coward of a king who dared to mock them after they had risked their necks for him.
Behind Joshua, Princess Jelanda followed. She smiled and waved to knight and mercenary alike. Behind her, the king's chief advisor, Lombart brought up the rear of the three main persons of interest in the entourage, followed by their personal guards as they went up to the throne.
"At least she seems not half as bad as her father," Aelia muttered quietly.
"Mm," was Arngrim's response.
Once at the head of the throne room, the king stood proudly despite his frail features and slight build. Some found it comedic how feeble Joshua was in comparison to those he commanded, but he was the king, and that demanded respect. From most, at least. To Arngrim, the little princess Jelanda standing at his side seemed more dignified and worthy of the throne than her father. However, they both stared down their noses at the soldiers and mercenaries before them with the same air of superiority. Nothing burned the large man faster than unearned pride, and the sad little king was full of it.
"Thanks to your meritorious efforts, the beasts of the forest have been driven back. We have been able to ensure the safety of Artolia today, thanks to all of you," King Joshua said in his nasally, high-pitched voice. "I salute you all!"
The king gave a half-hearted salute to his men. Next to Arngrim, Aelia rolled her eyes but remained still and said nothing.
"And let's see…" the king looked around the assembly of warriors. "Among you, one knight has great merit."
Joshua paused and let everyone wonder who it might be for a moment.
"Sir Lawfer, please step forward," The king said.
Lawfer looked up with a look of astonishment. He slowly rose to his feet and stepped out onto the carpet. He did not move toward the throne though. He glanced back at his friends among the mercenaries and smiled. He bowed low before the king again, bending the knee.
"With respects, My Liege, I was not the finest blade on the field of battle today," he said. "My life would have been ended today if not for the mightiest warrior of all, Sir Arngrim."
A look of bewilderment crossed Arngrim's features before he smiled.
"Heh," the large man quite pleased.
"It is true, my king," Lawson spoke up.
The king looked at him doubtfully while Princess Jelanda just listened intently. Lawson rose to his feet.
"Arngrim's work is always excellent. He may be a mercenary, but he's among the best blades in Artolia," the knight captain explained.
King Joshua's face contorted into a sneer.
"Ugh. Father and son…" he thought sourly. "If only those two had taken their reward and been silent. Now I've been put on the spot."
"Very well, then," the king said.
He looked out onto the crowd, visibly looking down on them. Besides him, Jelanda eagerly looked around for this mighty warrior who'd just received such praise from their captain.
"Arngrim, was it?" Joshua called. "Step forward and receive your reward."
"Hmph," Arngrim grunted as he stood.
"And there he is," the king said, raising an arm to usher him over.
He then motioned to a servant who stepped in beside the king with a small box.
"Come, Sir Arngrim!" the king beckoned. "I present you with this cash bonus and this statue made in my likeness."
Arngrim began to make his way toward the throne, his armor clanking heavily as he walked. In his well-worn gear of many repairs and chinks, large well-muscled frame, and scared face, he was a frightful sight for the king.
"Not even a knight," Joshua thought disdainfully, not caring that his face reflected his contempt and betrayed his feelings. "Why should I have to give this reward to one such as him?"
As Arngrim drew nearer, the servant opened the little box containing his reward for services rendered that day. Arngrim looked up and saw the scorn on the features of the little bearded monarch as he stared down at him. The princess seemed almost curious about him, in contrast.
"Although, I'm sure mercenary taste is no different than a beast's," the king thought mockingly.
"Ugh, to receive this from such an ungrateful little snot who looks down on those who risk their necks for him," was Arngrim's bitter thought.
Arngrim stopped beside the servant, instead of standing before the youth to take the gifts from the box right away. The boy looked up at him questioningly, but Arngrim's gaze was upon the king.
"How delightful," was Arngrim's contemptuous response to the gifts.
Behind him, at the head of the ranks, Lawson and Lawfer sucked in apprehensive breaths, knowing what was coming.
"Excuse me?" the king demanded.
"Be mindful of who you're addressing, barbarian," Jelanda also spoke up, sternly.
Arngrim just scoffed before bursting into woops of jeering laughter, catching the king, princess, and their guards by surprise. He grabbed the cheaply made little statue from the box and turned it over as if studying it.
"Oh, I thank you from the bottom of the gaping void of my soul," Arngrim's words dripped with sarcasm. Then he held the little figure up, scowling. "You really are a pitiful little man, your highness! You think this makes everything alright? This cheap little statue is nothing but a lie."
He laughed again.
"You were really gonna dishonor Lawfer with this crap?" he shouted between chortles of laughter.
"What… What are you…?" Joshua stuttered.
But Arngrim turned to the crowd, and pointed right at the knights, his scarred features having contorted into the deepest scowl. In the back, his friends just winced at the display happening before them, unsure of how react.
"I don't have time for this farce!" he shouted.
Then he turned to the king again.
"This statue really does look like you, doesn't it?" he asked.
Then Arngrim's hand gripped the hilt of his sword. The knights grabbed for their own weapons but were uncertain of what the large man was going to do.
"Eeep!" a high-pitched shriek erupted from the king, more akin to that of an adolescent girl than a full-grown man.
"Father!" Jelanda cried in alarm.
She was certain that Arngrim was going to strike Joshua down and aimed her scepter at him.
Instead, all Arngrim did was throw the statue down on the floor at the king's feet without taking his Beast Killer out once. Joshua's legs gave out from under him, and he collapsed onto his throne. Arngrim then picked the figurine up and practically shoved the now headless statue into the king's face. Beside him, Jelanda was both relieved and appalled, but also ashamed of her inaction.
"I'd have been too slow if he actually struck father," she thought.
She cursed herself for not getting off a Fire Storm right in Arngrim's face before he'd made his move.
"Don't waste my time with this crap," Arngrim said warningly.
Then he grabbed his money and turned from them, also taking the broken statue with him. Jelanda all but snarled at him.
"S-such impudence! You ungrateful brute!" Jelanda shouted at him. "Come back here! You will apology for subjecting my father to such barbarianism!"
Arngrim just ignored her and walked away. Jelanda gaped at his nerve and clenched her jaw with angry indignance.
"What a rude person!" she yelled. "Ten-thousand deaths is not enough for you!"
Again, Arngrim ignored her, walked down the carpet between the ranks of soldiers, sitting on knee, making no move to stop him.
"Guards! Take him!" Jelanda ordered.
Again, they stayed their swords and did try to detain Arngrim. No one did. No one dared. Jelanda looked around aghast at the inaction of those who swore to serve them.
"What are you all doing?!" she demanded. "After him!"
When they again refused to attack Arngrim, Jelanda focused on his retreating form and looked down at her enchanted specter, considering firing a warning shot to make him stop.
Before she could decide, Lombart reached out and lowered her specter. She glared at him huffily.
"Wait, your majesty," he said. "It would not be wise to assault him publicly. There will be a better opportunity, later."
Jelanda continued to glare for a moment, but crossed her arms turning away from the advisor, 'hmph'-ing.
Arngrim walked out the giant double doors of the throne room, unimpeded. At the head of the room, the king still shook and Jelanda seethed. Aelia, Kashell, and Celia all looked amongst themselves, glancing between the princess and the exit. When they were sure she wasn't looking, they fled the throne room as she dressed down the knights for just letting Arngrim go.
Oh, he'd done it this time! They were certain of it.
As he stood, Lawson sighed and shook his head.
"Someday, that ego of his is going to get Arngrim into trouble," he thought.
Lawfer also shook his head.
"That's our Arngrim. For better or for worse," he thought.
"That arrogant lout!" Jelanda screamed.
She threw open her bed chamber door, and stomped in, clutching her scepter tightly in furiously shaking hands. The ceremony had ended in shambles an hour ago with her father's public image in complete tatters after the stunt that brute had pulled. Then he was allowed to just walk out as if nothing had happened! Who did he think he is?! More importantly, why was this man more feared than the king?
"Cowards, they could have taken him together," she hissed.
Her clenched teeth were bared as she began to pace about her room frenetically, trying to conjure some plan of retaliation against Arngrim.
"I cannot believe they let him humiliate father like that," she grumbled.
In her anger, she kicked the chest of drawers by her bed. She turned away, ignoring the pain in her toes, lips turned out in a pouting frown.
"I will have to handle this myself, since the knighthood is apparently no good! The whole lot of them!" she muttered.
She paused her movement and pressed the back of her thumb to her lips thoughtfully.
"But how to get back at him?" she said.
Even as she thought back on what happened in the throne room again, her blood boiled. She wrung the scepter in her hands as rage overtook her. As the image of Arngrim smashing the statue replayed in her head, she flung the rod across the room where it clattered to the floor next to the opened door. At someone's feet. Seeing someone standing in the open doorway, Jelanda cried out and flushed with embarrassment.
"Oh, drat!" she thought as her face turned hot. "How could I be so careless? Even worse, it's… Lombart?"
She scowled at the advisor for daring to invade her privacy.
"Lombart, how dare you approach my quarters without permission!" she said haughtily, putting her hands on her hips. "Explain yourself. Immediately!"
The aged advisor had bent down and picked up her rod for her. He adjusted his round spectacles as he regarded his princess without discernible expression.
"Forgive me, your majesty, but I anticipated you would be distressed about what that ruffian subjected both yourself and the king to earlier," he said. "So, I came to check up on you and to assure you."
Jelanda's eyes narrowed.
"Assure me?" she asked.
He stood upright again, smoothing out his violet robes. His well-combed gray hair was flat against his head and a thin little mustache was barely visible on his lined, oval face.
"Yes. I believe I know how to take care of… Sir Arngrim," he replied as he went over to the princess.
He offered her the scepter back.
"But first, it is unseemly for the lovely future ruler of a nation to lose her temper in such a manner," he scolded her. "You must be mindful of your station as princess."
Jelanda scowled at him.
"Silence, Lombart!" she ordered, and snatched the rod back from him. "I will not stand here and accept abuse from the likes of you!"
As she spied the still opened door, she became mindful that someone else might overhear. She swallowed back some angry and coughed into her fist.
"More importantly," she said more evenly now. "We cannot allow such boorish behavior from a lowly mercenary."
"Oh, you need not concern yourself with thatmatter any longer, Princess," Lombart said with a sly grin. "I will take care of everything."
Jelanda eyed him suspiciously.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
"Oh, worry not about the kingdom suddenly lacking a mighty warrior," Lombart answered. "He will survive to rue the day he humiliated our king for however long the Norns has threaded his lifeline."
With another smile, much more sinister this time, Lombart bowed.
"But I must take my leave and make preparation. Enjoy your evening, Your Majesty," he said.
Lombart left, leaving Jelanda with that final thought. After he closed the door behind him, Jelanda flung the scepter in his direction again. It bounced off the floor, settling next to the doorway again.
"As if I could just rely on Lombart for this matter," she thought. "Now then… There must be some way to get that arrogant lout."
Jelanda pressed her fingertips together as she thought about it.
"Let me think…"
Then her eyes lit up and an impish smile crossed her lips.
"Oh, I got it!" she thought.
"Woo hoo hoo!" Kashell cackled.
He and Janus had just arrived with everyone's mead from the bar and set them down for their consumption. On one side, Arngrim sat alone at one end until Kashell and Janus took their seats next to him. On the other side, Lawfer, Aelia, and Celia had settled comfortably onto the bench.
"I thought for sure they were gonna come for you this time, after that stunt!" Kashell said between laughs. "Guess it goes to show that King of Artolia really is just a sniveling little coward."
"That's him over there! Ol' Arngrim, never a dull moment with that one," someone spoke from another table.
"Did ye see him when Arny smashed the statue? Just about fainted, he did!"
Arngrim looked quite pleased with himself as a choir of laughter boomed over the verbal public flogging he gave the king. Celia couldn't help but stare sourly at the large man as he soaked up the attention, with a wide broad on his face.
"Oh, his ego just might become insufferable after this," a weary, resigned thought entered her head.
"Still, you shouldn't provoke the knighthood like that," she said. "They actually thought you were going to hurt the king."
Arngrim just turned away, clearly unwelcoming of this beratement. Annoyance turned to anger, and it sizzled up from the pit of Celia's stomach. She stood from the bench and slammed both hands down on the table.
"I mean it," her voice was sharper now. "You have to think before you do these things. What would happen to Roland if they'd decided to make what you did treason officially?"
Arngrim shot her a fire-filled scowl at the mention of his brother. Celia fell back, almost dropping onto the bench, successfully cowed into a ceasefire. When she'd backed off, Arngrim's lecture-ending glower faded, and he shrugged flippantly.
"Eh, not one of those knights has what it takes to bring me down, and they know it," Arngrim dragged.
Lawfer gave his old friend a withering look.
"All the same, in the future, please refrain from such actions," he requested. "I spent much of the afternoon trying to put out your fire."
"I never asked you to do that," Arngrim replied.
"Still," Lawfer said. "A little restraint every once in a while never hurt anyone."
Arngrim grumbled something under his breath. He was about to take a long drink of his mead.
"Wait," Kashell said.
Everyone paused and looked at him as he stood. He held out his mug.
"A toast. To victory," he said. "And to curbing our monster problem."
"Hear hear!" Aelia cried.
They clinked their drinks and took long drinks of their mead, ending with satisfied "Ah's". Celia alone took dainty little sips while even Aelia gulped down her mead in an unladylike fashion. Celia looked at her fellow woman and sighed in resignation as the alcohol rolled down her chin. Oddly, Janus seemed to be the only other one who drank in a dignified fashion, which made Celia wonder about the man's origins again. He hadn't been a part of their group long. In all honesty, he'd just shown up one day and joined her and Kashell on a job. He'd been working with them off and on ever since.
Celia turned her attention from him and looked around the tavern. Around them, the bar bustled with life, as other mercenaries milled out and laughed amongst themselves about something or other. Intermixed with them were travelers, merchants, millers, and other persons of the lower-class employ, all taking a load off after a long day's work. Minstrels sang their song, filling the air with their cheer.
"Ship on vigor of the waves are skimming,
Barren summits to the verdant plains,
Each horizon a new beginning,
Rise and reign!
"Far from the fjords and ice cold currents,
Ravens soar over new frontiers,
Songs and sagas of a fate determined,
Shields and spears!
Vows of favor of the thrill of plunder,
Pull together for the clan and kin,
Clank of hammers and the crash of thunder,
Pound within!
Oh-oh-oh!
Echoes of eternity!
Oh-oh-oh!
Valhalla calling me!"
The crew listened to the music, letting the promise of a paradise for warriors such as themselves move through them. Most of them wondered if they were truly worthy of being chosen by the Valkyrie and being taken to fight for Odin and the other gods. Then there was Arngrim, who just didn't worry about it.
"Hey, Lawfer, let's get everyone another round," Kashell said.
"Ay," Lawfer obliged.
"You are certain you can get us the cargo by tomorrow evening?"
Lombart smiled knowingly in response to that question. The person who'd asked was seated across from him at the table in his study. His visitor was a woman clothed in a long dark gray dress. She wore a black hooded shawl that obscured her face. Only her mouth was visible under the hood. The only other visible feature was that her skin was very pale, which made her lips look all the more red.
"Oh, don't you worry about that. It won't be difficult to slip this package through the cracks," Lombart replied. "Now I have a question my own: will your man be able to make the delivery?"
"You insult me, dear Chancellor," the woman in black replied. "I only hire the best for these jobs. He will arrive on time when the package is due to go out in two days and he will see it through the wilderness."
"Even so…" Lombart muttered.
He reached under the table and slowly produced a burlap sack which he shook, making the coins within jangle.
"I want a second man on this job," Lombart instructed.
"Very well, and I see you are prepared to cover the additional cost," the woman in black replied.
"Indeed, I am."
He shoved it towards the woman.
"This will just about cover the additional supplies you will need to procure for a second man," he said. "Worry not, there's enough in there for you to take your cut for arranging this."
The woman in black smiled and took the sack of oth in hand.
"By your leave, Milord," she said.
Lombart motioned for her to go. When she was about to open the door to leave, he spoke up again:
"I trust you will be as discerning as you were with your first hire?"
The woman in black only smiled back him.
"Worry not, Milord. I know just the man for this job."
"…Drink to the storm-tossed seas!
Drink to the lasting nights,
and those who warm our beds!
Drink to the mead that warms our hearts…"
Kashell and Aelia drunkenly sang from atop the table their group sat at.
"Very funny, but now please come down from there, both of you!" Celia begged.
A lightly inebriated Kashell and Aelia had scaled the table without warning and were currently giving Celia near heart failure while they danced dangerously close to the edges belting an old sailor's drinking song. The worried Celia was trying to coax them down while Lawfer, Arngrim, and Janus watched them with looks of amusement. An onlooker whistled suggestively.
"Yeah, sing it, lass!" he shouted.
"Oh, Aelia's gonna let you have it tomorrow if she remembers you said that," someone else said.
"What? I was talkin' about the dark haired one," the first one joked. Then he raised his voice to shout over to their table. "Hey, Kashell, when's a lass like you gonna settle down?"
That was followed by a roar of laughter. Kashell overheard this, and smirking, stepped to the edge of the table. Celia felt her heart nearly stop as the tips of both his boots hung over the sides.
"Oh, careful, careful!" Celia cried. "Lawfer, help out, will you?"
"Very funny, Bart!" Kashell called over to the other table. "But to be perfectly serious, I am completely out of your league!"
While he and the other drunks let out more whooping cackles, Lawfer got up and maneuvered over toward Kashell to catch him if necessary. Then the predictable happened. Kashell tried to turn around, but his feet slipped and down he went, falling into Lawfer bearing both men to the ground with loud thuds and 'oofs'. While Arngrim guffawed at their misfortune, Celia gasped, covering her mouth in both hands in worried shock. A tipsy Aelia took a couple of wobbled steps to check on the downed men, who still lied prone on their backs, draped over each other.
"Whoa," Aelia muttered. "You two okay?"
"Stop right there, Aelia! Arngrim, Janus, please sort Kashell and Lawfer while I deal with Aelia, please," Celia pleaded.
So, while Celia helped the redhead down, Janus and Arngrim both went to disentangle their pretzeled friends.
"Alright, you two, let's get you up," Arngrim had a chuckle in his voice as he picked Lawfer up by the underside of his armpits.
Lawfer groaned painfully, rubbing the back of his aching head.
"Steady," Janus cautioned Kashell.
After both men were seated again at the table, Celia gave Kashell and Aelia a stern dressing-down. Arngrim largely tuned out the lecture, turning his attention to the sun hanging low in the sky.
"Hope Roland's staying out of trouble," he thought. "Eh, what am I worrying about? I don't think Roland even knows how to get to cause problems."
"…You two are just unbelievable," Celia grumbled as she sat back down.
After she was done fuming, all was silent at the table for a moment. It didn't take long for it to get uncomfortable Lawfer, who decided to break it with conversation:
"What now, with the battle won? Will you go looking for new job offers right away?"
"Got a job offer coming in the day after tomorrow," Arngrim answered. "That will give me time to make sure Roland is set for the next couple weeks."
"How is your brother these days, speaking of?" Celia asked.
Arngrim stared into his nearly empty mug for a moment. It was unknown what was going on behind his eyes.
"About the same as always," he finally answered. "Can't use his right leg and has to hobble around with a crutch. I don't think he's ever gonna be free of it."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Celia said.
"He's got his painting hobby, so he has a way to pass the time," Arngrim said.
He sighed, setting his mug down.
"I should probably check on him before too long."
He glanced at Celia.
"How about you and the screwball there?"
"Screwball?"
Arngrim ignored Kashell's protest, casting his second question:
"Got a mission or you finally tying the knot?"
Celia's face turned bright red as she made a choking sound with her throat. Her mouth opened and closed like she was talking, but only more babble came out. Kashell coughed uncomfortable, his own face tinged red.
"Ashtually, Celia and I have another job," Kashell replied with a slight slur. "Bodyguarding some nobles going to Lassen."
"Y-yes! Business as usual," Celia squeaked.
Beside her, Aelia was trying to contain her snickering. The vexed stare she was receiving from Celia warned her to keep her own comments on the matter contained down her throat. But she couldn't help how infinitely entertained by her friend's a luminescent blush she was. In fact, it just made Aelia laugh harder. Celia pouted while Kashell buried his face in the table.
"Lassen?" Arngrim was surprised. "That merchant town west of here? That's a pretty rough trip even before you hit the Amenti mountains. What're they going there for, anyway?"
"Funeral," Kashell answered. "Our clients' are going because the wife of a relative has passed away. They're also taking the kids to attend. We'll be escorting them back to Artolia, too."
"They better be paying you good," Arngrim muttered.
Kashell smiled slyly.
"Oh, they are," he chuckled. "We were able to haggle up quite a good price."
"What about you, Lawfer?" Celia asked.
"As usual, I must do my rounds defending the kingdom with the other knights," Lawfer explained with a shrug.
"Why did you join them, anyway?" Arngrim asked. "As a mercenary, you were a lot freer to take any job you wanted."
"Because as the son of nobility with a long history in the knighthood, there are things expected of me," Lawfer did not hide the annoyance in his voice. "Not all of us are lucky enough to have everything we need or want as a crestless warrior. Or to be allowed to do as we wish."
Arngrim fell silent, taking another drink of his mead.
"Like you know everything," he thought, bitterly.
"What about you, Aelia?" Celia asked.
She hoped to redirect the conversation before it turned ugly.
"Anything upcoming jobs yet?" Celia then added.
"Hmm…" Aelia hummed, looking into her goblet.
She set it down and tried getting the gears working under the fog of the alcohol.
"Well, I suppose I could check the bounty marks posted outside the sheriff's office," then she paused. "Or…"
Her eyes happened to stray into the crowd beyond the other side of the table. Her answer died on her tongue when she spied a very familiar face staring right at her among the many patrons. He was an older man with a broad, round face with shaggy gray hairs and a long white beard. He wore simple robes and an eyepatch over his left eye, and his remaining good eye stared at her as piercingly as a hawk.
"Or I can ask Gilbert over there," Aelia said. "He looks like he's got somethin' for me, anyways."
She stood and left, navigating the crowd well despite her half-drunken state. Everyone watched her go. Arngrim glanced over his shoulder and spotted the man right away as well.
"Ah," he thought.
"What was that about?" Janus asked.
"You see the older gentleman she's walking toward?" Lawfer pointed to the man.
Janus nodded.
"That's Gilbert Longfellow," Lawfer explained. "He's the most reliable information broker for any mercenary in the whole region. He always has his ear to the ground, eyes everywhere, and always has good intel for the right price."
The knight leaned to the side to look around Arngrim.
"He might have a job, or…" he paused for a second. "Or he's found him."
Another silence settled at the table. Kashell and Celia exchanged grim looks as a forbidding understanding settled in between the old comrades. Janus found himself the only outlier. However, he could tell the other possibility mentioned was something they'd all been waiting for.
"You think it's Grey?" Kashell asked Celia quietly.
"Grey?" Janus asked.
Kashell took a deliberate swig of his drink even though it was nearly empty, leaving this to Celia. She sighed, accepting her fate. Lawfer pointedly looked away, and Arngrim was the only one who looked Janus dead on.
"Hard to tell 'til she gets back," Arngrim said. "We'll find him sooner or later, though. You can count on that."
"Maybe…" Celia replied cautiously.
Janus looked around at the dour expressions that had settled into his current associates. None of them had yet to tell him what this 'Grey' had done. In fact, they avoided the issue on the occasion it was brought up.
"What did Grey do?" Janus finally asked.
Before anyone else could answer, Aelia stormed back to the table, plopping down into her seat.
"He killed Lamia," she answered bluntly. "And when we find him, we're going to kill him. Gilbert's found a lead on Grey."
Kashell slammed his mug down on the table as anger filled his eyes. Celia tensed up, Lawfer's expression remained grim, and Arngrim's hand closed tighter around his mug, on the verge of breaking it.
"Where?" Arngrim asked sternly.
"Near someplace called Coriander Village," Aelia answered. "Gilbert says he's been spotted near a little village Northeast of the Villnore capital. It's along the outer edge of the kingdom, not far from the North coast. I'm going to go check it out. I should be fine by myself."
"We should all go together," Celia protested. "Kashell and I can…"
"We can't," Kashell interrupted.
She looked at him in surprise. Kashell did not look happy about what he was going to say next, not one bit.
"We already signed the contract for that escort job. Besides, you know there are kids with the nobles we'll be guarding, and the wilderness is still very dangerous," he explained. "I wanna make that bastard pay as much as the rest of you, but we can't back out of this job now."
Celia visibly wilted as she listened. She knew he was right, of course, but she couldn't help but worry about Aelia. Arngrim looked at the remaining mead at the bottom of his mug.
"I've got Roland and my next job, so I'm out," he said.
"I have to report in in the morning," Lawfer said. "I will be patrolling the southern border with the 10th battalion. Even if I could convince father to give me a leave of absence, I'm not sure it would be wise to be seen traveling with an Artolian knight in the Villnore region."
"What about your old suit of armor?" Arngrim asked. "It didn't have Artolian's golden dragon engraved on it."
"Unfortunately, I sold it when I was presented with my current armor," Lawfer didn't seem proud of that fact. "It'd simply have been too costly to keep and maintain both when I was likely to only ever wear one of them again."
That just left Janus, who still had half a mind on what he heard earlier.
"I would accompany you," Janus said hesitantly.
"The king of Crell Monferaigne has passed away," he recalled the words of the guard.
"But circumstances demand my attention elsewhere," Janus added. "'Tis a family matter. I am sorry for that, sincerely."
Celia gave him a concerned looked.
"Is everything alright?" her voice was genuine.
"'Tis fine," he answered. "I am returning home to see my father. I leave early on the morrow."
All eyes were on him now.
"Where's home?" Arngrim asked.
"Very far away," Janus answered.
"Heh. Care to be a little more specific?" Arngrim asked.
Aelia cast an irritated eye his way.
"Hey, let the guy have his privacy," she said.
"Well, I am sorry to hear we will be losing you for a time, friend," Lawfer said. "May our paths cross again when you return."
"Thank you," Janus answered.
Janus privately lamented he could not disclose more.
Celia looked at Aelia apologetically.
"Well, Aelia, it looks like everyone is busy," Celia said remorsefully.
Aelia nodded.
"Hey, it's not a sure thing, anyway," she said, shrugging. "I'll check it out and make sure word gets back to you guys if it is him just like we planned. Thankfully, it sounds like he's in a remote location, far from the capital or any of their other main cities. I shouldn't have any problems with Villnore patrols if I move along the Artolian mountains and keep to the woods."
"What about Villnore border patrol?" Celia asked. "Crell Monferaigne is right on the other side of the Artolian mountains from both us and Villnore. King Kraad the 7th is no fool. He'll have Villnore troops stationed at every passable mountain road."
Aelia waved her off.
"I'm traveling along the mountains, not going to them. I'll be very careful, Cel, so relax. You act like none of us have never had to sneak by a patrol before," the redhead said. "As for Grey… I'm not selfish enough to put him in the ground by myself. We all have a stake in this."
Janus looked at her contemplatively while they chattered a moment longer. Finally, he asked:
"Who was Lamia?"
Lawfer was the one to answer that.
"She was… his wife," he answered hesitantly. "She and Grey used to fight alongside us in the old days."
He then went silent, hoping that was enough. Kashell glanced at Janus and could see he was going to press for more information.
"This was back before Lawfer joined the knighthood," Kashell said. "We were all together as a mercenary group. Arngrim, Lawfer, Grey, Lamia, Aelia, Celia, Bartos, Rolf, and myself. Fenrir's Brood, we called ourselves."
A wistful look crossed Kashell's face, a longing for better days. Something clicked in Janus's mind.
"So that's what the wolf howl is about," Janus said.
Arngrim laughed almost ruefully.
"Yeah," he answered. "That was Bartos's bit. He started doing it after successful jobs, and then we joined in."
"Those were good times," Kashell said melancholically. "Then, one day…"
He still remembered that day like it was happening again at that moment.
"By the gods, Lamia! Grey, what happened?" Celia had cried.
When she and Kashell had entered the hollow, Lamia lied dead in Grey's arms. No enemy was nearby, but strangely, the only mark upon Lamia's body was a single sword stroke. They could not see Grey's face behind the closed visor of his helmet as he held her.
"What happened?" Kashell demanded. "Who did this?"
Then Grey looked up at him.
"'Twas I. I did this," he answered.
Celia gasped, bringing her hands to her face in shock. Kashell mouth fell open, and after a moment of trying to make himself form words, he found his voice again.
"Don't even joke about that," he shouted. "Of course this can't be your fault."
"This is my fault. She's dead because of me," Grey reiterated.
"How could this possibly be your…" Kashell started to retort.
Then his eyes fell on her wound, and he noted its size and shape. His eyes trailed over to Grey's sword, lying on the ground next to Lamia, still fresh with blood. The width of the blade matched that of the cut. To a trained warrior's eyes, there was no doubt about it. Grey's sword had ended Lamia's life. The dark haired claymore user's teeth clenched in fury as he glared at the armored man.
Then, before Celia even knew what was happening, Kashell had leapt from her side with a roar and brought his claymore down on Grey, who just barely blocked.
"You son of a bitch! I'll kill you!" Kashell had shouted from the bottom of his diaphragm.
Celia could only stand there, rooted in place by the horror she was experience. She tried to process this information as Kashell tangled with Grey. Who did she help? Did she stop Kashell? Was there a misunderstanding? Then Kashell was knocked to the ground, bringing her out of her stupor. She drew her blade and prepared to charge Grey before he could hurt her closest friend, but then instead of engaging her, he simply turned and ran off. His full suit of plate armor loudly clanked as he went.
"Get back here!" Kashell shouted.
He jumped to his feet and started to run off after Grey, but he was stopped by Celia.
"Let me go! I'll kill him!"
"But what about Lamia? We can't just leave her here," Celia said.
That made Kashell stop. He looked at Celia, then at the fallen form of Lamia.
"We… we at least need to take her back home," Celia had said as tears began to roll down her face.
Kashell looked toward where Grey had ran. He'd run into the trees and they could hear the pounding of hooves fading into the distance. They'd lost their chance, and it was Celia's fault. Kashell closed his eyes and calmed down, knowing he had to or else he'd explode on her.
"…Right," Kashell answered as he calmed down.
The gallop of Grey's horse was already gone. He'd gotten away.
Janus leaned back on the bench as he digested this information.
"You are… certain he is the one who killed her?" he asked.
"Of course! He even fessed up when we caught him in the act! Besides her wound was consistent with the size of Grey's sword," Kashell replied.
"We've been hunting him ever since," Aelia said.
Then her face contorted in a pained grimace as a series of unpleasant memories surfaced.
"We… We lost Bartos, our old archer, along the way. Rolf also fell. He was trying to protect him," her voiced strained. "Turned out we were following a dead end. We lost two more friends for nothing."
"My condolences," Janus said. "I'm sorry I said anything."
"It's alright," Aelia muttered. "You were gonna find out if you kept working with us, anyway."
"We weren't trying to hide it, I swear," Celia told him. "It's just…"
"The pain of discussing it is evident. I understand," Janus said.
Aelia stood up.
"I'm going to turn in," she announced. "I'm getting' up before the sun does to go after Grey. See you all."
One by one, the others stood and exchanged a forearm shake with her. Then Aelia plucked out some coins from a small bag hanging from her belt and plopped them onto the table in front of her spot. She turned to leave.
"Be careful out there," Celia called after her.
"Yeah, and try not to get in too many fights," Kashell added.
"Hey, I love I good a fight!" Aelia said confidently, flexing one of her arms with a big grin. "You're the one that's got to be careful, Momma's boy."
"Momma's Boy?" Kashell cried in mock indignance. "Why I never!"
Aelia walked away, laughing.
"I should have the servants give you thirty lashes," Kashell called after her in his best nasally 'noble' tone.
Arngrim stared after her with a grim look.
"Aelia," he spoke up. "Don't just disappear on us, you hear. Villnore is our enemy, even if we are just mercenaries, we're still Artolians. If they catch even an Artolian merc within their borders, you'll wish they just killed you."
Aelia gave him a wave acknowledging his words of warning, looking back at him with a confident smile.
"Don't worry. I'll be fine," she promised.
"I hate when she says that," Celia said wearily.
"See you," Aelia called.
"Bless," Celia gave a return shout, which was echoed by the others.
Aelia left the tavern and headed to the inn she was staying in.
Celia stared at the door as it shut. She looked down at her empty mug and made a decision.
"Actually, turning in early doesn't sound like a bad idea," she mused.
Celia tapped Kashell on the shoulder.
"Mm?" he hummed quizzically.
"Come one, Kashell," Celia said, grabbing him under one arm. "We have to be up bright and early tomorrow morning to start that escort job. We'd probably better both go to bed for the evening."
Kashell groaned in protest.
"No, come on! You are not showing up to another job hungover!" Celia said sternly.
She hauled him off the bench and he just limply went along with it, reluctantly.
"After just a few? That's hardly an evening well spent," Kashell whined.
"Get up! You were the one who insisted on taking this job instead of going with Aelia. Accept all that comes with it," Celia said with a grunt. Then she turned to the rest of her compatriots to bid them good night. "Bless, everyone."
Kashell childishly whined as he was pulled along. He gave in and started following her without having to pulled.
"I will hear from you," he said to the remaining men at the table with his best faux-nobleman voice.
Soon, the duo were gone from the tavern as well. Lawfer held up his mug.
"Another round?" he asked.
It was late, and Arngrim was drunk when he opened the front door of the humble home he shared with his little brother. His sword caught in the doorframe, causing him to stumble slightly as he tried crossing the threshold. He quickly caught himself and clumsily stepped through. As usual, the place was a little run-down. The aged stone walls were chipped and some of them even had moss growing in. Everything in the home they had inherited from their deceased parents was old, hailing from the time when both men were but boys. The furniture was simple but functioning, and showed signs of having been repaired many times, mostly due to Arngrim not being able to afford many new things for himself or Roland.
He closed the door behind him louder than he'd have liked, given that Roland was probably in bed.
"Oh, is that you, brother?" came Roland's voice.
So much for that. Wait, what he was doing still up?
"Yeah, it'sh me," Arngrim slurred.
"Welcome home, then, brother," Roland called.
Arngrim unfastened the strap of his sword from around his body and let it slide down his back. The end clunked against the floor loudly. Arngrim just shoved the weapon behind the coat hanger before heading into the living room. Roland sat at his stool with the easel, paints canvas in front of him. He was painting the old abandoned castle just outside the city. The portrait was set at sundown with the reddening light of the sun shining on the landscape and castle. His brown hair was darker than Arngrim's, but they had matching blue eyes. He was also a small, frail man as opposed to the big, burly warrior that was his older brother.
Roland looked up from his work as Arngrim entered, and immediately noticed something was off about his brother this evening. He looked on the large man with concern. He started to reach for his crutch to get up.
"Whoa, are you okay?" Roland asked.
"Yeah," Arngrim replied. He waved off the concern with a dismissive gesture. "Don't get up. I'm fine."
Roland nodded and eased himself back down as Arngrim approached.
"You've been out drinking with your friends?" Roland asked.
Arngrim answered with a rumble from his throat as he stopped by the easel to get a look at what his brother had been working on. He scoffed.
"You're still drawing that shtuff?" he asked skeptically.
Roland's eyes filled with incensed annoyance immediately.
"Art is more than just "that stuff"…" he said firmly.
"Meh. If you can't sell it, what's the point?" Arngrim demanded.
Roland looked down at his lap, a looking of yearning filling his face.
"I don't do this for money…" he muttered.
Arngrim grinned, already knowing the answer. He decided to let the matter drop.
"Whatever," he said.
"Brother…" Roland said but faltered.
He swallowed his nerve and went on.
"It's different from war where you just kill people," he said.
"What?!" Arngrim balked. "I'm not a mercenary for money. I do what it because I enjoy it!"
Roland winced at the troubling meaning behind those words.
"Same as this, right?" Arngrim queried, gesturing to canvas.
Roland had no answer, so he turned and started walking away, toward their shared bedroom.
"I don't give a damn about "expressing myself" or whatever," Arngrim growled.
As Arngrim entered their bedroom and sat down on his bed at the opposite end from Roland's, he managed to remember a previous conversation about he'd had to his brother once. He recalled watching Roland work on another painting on day. A horse and knight, if he remembered correctly.
"Say, Roland, what's so fun about making art, anyway?" he'd asked.
Roland had looked at him, and answered:
"You think it foolish, brother, because you are content with what you already have."
Arngrim remained silent and waited for Roland to continue.
"For me, art is…" Roland looked down at his thin, delicate arm. "Art is a way for me to escape the confines of this frail body of mine."
Arngrim was drawn from his memories by the sound of Roland hobbling in on his crutch. The warrior had to rub his eyes to try seeing straight through the effects of the alcohol, and it worked, somewhat. He looked Roland square in the eye as the smaller man entered. He had a guilty look on his face and offered a weak smile to his older brother.
"I'd like to apologize, brother," Roland said. "I know part of the you fight is to support the both of us."
Arngrim didn't say anything. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bag of money.
"I got quite a bounty today," he said. "I'll leave the money here when I head out in two days."
His hands happened to feel something else in the pouch hanging from his belt, which paused Arngrim to pause.
"What else did I bring home?" he wondered.
He reached in and nearly laughed when he pulled out the smashed statue he'd been presented with earlier by the king. Roland just blinked to confusion at the sight of it.
"What is that?" Roland asked.
Arngrim actually chuckled, turning the thing over in his hand again before setting it down at his bedside.
"That thing? Just a present from his majesty. They handed that cheap piece of trash out to whoever killed the most monsters today."
Roland was too afraid to ask why it was already broken, and simply hobbled over to his bed. Arngrim peeled off his armor and took off his boots before climbing into bed. His eyes slowly fluttered shut as he allowed the land of sleep to claim him for the evening, completely unaware of a plot being laid against him. Fore in the depths of the Castle Artolia, Princess Jelanda was finishing up the preparations.
"Oh ho ho," Jelanda chuckled as she looked herself over in the mirror. "He'll never suspect a thing. Just you wait, Sir Mightiest Warrior. Tomorrow I will make you pay for humiliating father. Just you wait…"
