Private Tales Baker's Dozen

[Cato]

"...And I got no fucking reason to care do I?" Cato barked back at the nearest guard. The whole lot of them were bloody amateurs at best. Shouldn't have expected much with this sort of pay. He may have been a Blackshield captain but times were tough; whores weren't as cheap as they used to be. That bastard Quintus had got him used to Thairk ales as well. Mug of that costs more than a half a night's worth of horse piss. Leaving all that aside, Cato was a godsdamned professional and not interested in hearing any gripe from halfwits.

He pulled his reins to the side and watched as the caravan continued to pass. Cato spotted a few familiar faces among the guards but most were unknown. The captain had dragged a few of the Third along with him. Those that had some manner of sense, of which there were few. Half of his lot were just as like to make off with the goods that they were supposed to protect. Suffice to say, Cato had some real fucking troubles keeping the 'Shields reputation intact.

Cato eventually slowed as he found a familiar figure at the rear of the caravan. "To be honest This, got no idea what yer doing here." A casual grin rested on the mercenary captain's face. He wouldn't take half his cohort on a run like this and the rest just didn't care. Dahlia may have been smarter than most but coin was still coin. It had a habit of leaving your purse faster than it was earned. "The lads keeping in line so far?" For all things, she was still one of the Third's company sergeants.

Dahlia Blackthistle

 

[Dahlia Blackthistle]

Dahlia, riding at the rear of the caravan, cast her eyes upon the passing guards with a piercing, calculating gaze. Cato's gruff words didn't faze her; instead, they ignited a spark of playful defiance within her. She arched an eyebrow, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her pitch black eyes as she met his casual grin with a smoldering, sly smile.

"Well, Cato, you underestimate my appetite for excitement," she purred, her voice laced with a hint of silk and venom. "In this precarious world, even the most astute minds must seize opportunities to secure their livelihood. After all, a steady coin from guarding a seemingly mundane bakery caravan can be the difference between survival and desperation."

Her gaze shifted, observing the guards who accompanied her, their forms flickering like shadows in the dim light. "The lads?" she continued, her voice low and rich, carrying a tinge of skepticism. "They require some firm guidance, as one might expect. I've had to wield authority like a whip, cracking it with calculated precision to keep them toeing the line. But rest assured, the honor of the Blackshields will remain untarnished if I have anything to say 'bout it."

Dahlia's eyes flitted over the passing goods, a subtle blend of curiosity and wariness shimmering within her gaze. "Yet, Cato, I can't help but wonder..." she began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Is there more to this shipment than meets the eye? Bakery supplies may not traditionally be coveted targets, but danger often lurks in the guise of familiarity. The shadows whisper their warning."

Her hand, concealed within the folds of her dark leather armor, instinctively brushed against the hilt of her dagger, a silent testament to her readiness. Her magic, an intangible force born from fear and shadows, simmered beneath her skin, an ethereal current waiting to be harnessed.

Cato

 

[Cato]

"You can just say you're broke Lia." Cato wasn't buying this whole 'appetite' bullshit. He wasn't sure what she was spending her coin on and Cato was sure he didn't want to know. The mercenary wasn't sure there was an astute mind this side of the Strait. Cato still appreciated the presence of the sergeant regardless of her reasons for being here. "Fuck honor, just want to make it out of here in one piece. Coin in hand of course."

Admittedly his words were a bit disingenuous. Even the craziest bastard in the Third had some measure of pride in being a Blackshield, their captain was no exception. 'Course that didn't make them more important than his life, not by a long shot. Cato was a mercenary, a sellsword. Can't get paid if you're dead. A simple tenet to live by. "Just keep things tight," he said, reiterating his earlier sentiment.

Cato turned his gaze towards the wagons laden with goods and then back to the sergeant. "Didn't bother asking. Merchant was a real slippery bastard, I'll give you that," added the captain upon giving it some further thought. He hadn't sensed anything overtly off among the members of the caravan. The local guards looked useless but that was hardly uncommon. "Those shadows of yours got anything else to say?"

He wasn't expecting them to conveniently provide an answer, instead he was leaning on Lia herself. She had a knack for getting in and out of places unseen. Meant she was good at setting up ambushes, and more to Cato's interest, spotting them.

Dahlia Blackthistle

 

[Dahlia Blackthistle]

Dahlia's sly smile widened at Cato's response, acknowledging the underlying truth in his words. She knew he saw through her pretense, seeing her desire for coin as a more plausible motive. She respected his practicality and candidness to call out her bullshit. Not to mention his appreciation for the tangible rewards that kept them all clothed and fed.

"Fair enough, Cato," she conceded, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Surviving with a full purse does have its merits, doesn't it? I won't deny the allure of coin in these uncertain times."

She nodded in agreement, understanding the importance of keeping a tight watch over their surroundings. "Rest assured, Captain, I'll keep a vigilant eye on things," Dahlia assured him, her tone carrying a note of inflated confidence. "No shadow or stray movement will go unnoticed."

The sergeant's eyes gleamed with a subtle intensity as Cato mentioned the enigmatic merchant and his elusive nature. "Ah yes, a slippery merchant. Those tend to be the ones hiding something," she remarked, her voice dropping to a whisper laced with intrigue. "And as for the shadows... they speak in whispers, in half-formed shapes. We should remain alert, for danger may lurk where we least expect it."

As the caravan trudged onward, a faint whisper carried on the wind, an insidious susurration that only Dahlia's ears could discern. The shadows stirred, their ethereal tendrils gently urging her toward the supply wagon. Dahlia's eyes darted towards it, her senses being pulled forward by a sudden urgency.

Urging her horse closer to the wagon, Dahlia motioned for Cato to follow suit, their steeds moving with hushed anticipation. As they drew parallel to it, Dahlia's gaze fixated on the wagon, her eyes scanning its surface with meticulous scrutiny. Amidst the mundane appearance, she spotted it - a subtle irregularity, a flaw in the pattern that would escape an untrained eye.

Dahlia leaned closer to Cato, her voice barely above a whisper. "Look there," she murmured, her words laced with a sense of intrigue. "The side of the wagon, near the rear axle. See how the wood appears slightly different? It's been tampered with, cleverly disguised unless you knew what to look for." She exchanged a charged glance with him. "What exactly do you think our proprietor thought so valuable to keep hidden from the likes of us?"

Cato

 

[Cato]

Cato couldn't say he knew anything other than 'uncertain times' but didn't press the issue. The shadows apparently weren't going to tell him anything he didn't already know. It was a damned shame but he supposed there was some comfort in that. Best to trust your own instincts when it came down to it. Magic had its uses but often became a crutch. He'd seen good fighters forget their foundations just 'cause they learned a cantrip or two. Hells, Cato still didn't feel comfortable half the time he slung a spell.

He eventually caught Lia's signal and moved closer to the wagons. "You a carpenter now?" He said with an arched brow. "Can't say I see much difference but I'll take your word for it." He knew she wouldn't be saying these things just for fun. Not something that could be said about other members of the Third. Cato paused his thoughts for a moment as he sensed a watchful eye. He glanced around but couldn't see anyone giving them any undue attention.

The mercenary captain looked backed to the wagon and then the sergeant. "Like I said Lia, got no idea. Who knows what these bastards consider precious. Our company knows its business but we're just sellswords in their eyes. An expendable hand, nothing bloody more." The disrespect grated on some of his peers but it didn't bother Cato all that much, at least not anymore. Still, he had to admit that Lia's revelation was only adding to his growing sense of unease.

"So what's your read? This something our employer's gone and done himself, or is our journey about to get a lot more crowded?"

Dahlia Blackthistle

 

[Dahlia Blackthistle]

Her hands gripped the reins in mounting anxiety. Dahlia didn't like not knowing. And she liked even less not having all the goddamn information they needed to do a job properly.

And considering the mercenary was not one to do anything by halves, she felt the poor attempt at subterfuge, even more irritating.

Keeping a casual exterior for the watchful eye that burned at the back of her neck, she shrugged at Cato. "I say we don't have enough information yet to act. Seeing as how we don't even know what's being hid from us. Let alone, how many people outside our circle our involved with keeping it a secret." Her horse shifted nervously beneath her, which was common for her. Animals could sense the shadows beneath her skin. "I say for now, we wait for the cover of dark. Although we only have a single night out here to find out what we need before we arrive tomorrow at the baker's. And in turn, whether this is even worth our fucking time anymore."

Cato

 

[Cato]

"Bloody all we can do really," replied the mercenary captain in agreement. Thus they fell back to their usual positions as the caravan trundled on throughout the day. As the sun was finally beginning to set, they pulled not far off the main thoroughfare to make camp. Cato was familiar with this area and didn't sense anything immediately untoward. 'Course they still had a long fucking night ahead of them.

"Lia and I'll take second shift. Would like it if things weren't completely shit-backwards by then," warned the captain. Things had been a bit tense between the 'Shields and the regular guard. Usually he'd have the sergeant on a separate shift to avoid issues like this but considering there was potential fuckery afoot, sacrifices had to be made. And even though some of the others were liable to cause a ruckus, they'd do their jobs. The 'Shields were a serious outfit and a nightraid was no fucking joke.

Cato settled in and was quick to drift into his sordid dreams. He woke with the usual litany of curses near four hours later. Everything seemed to still be in order as he found the sergeant being roused from her own slumber. "Quiet as crypt." Cato looked towards the perimeter of the camp and saw that the other guards were actually properly patrolling. "Maybe they weren't half as useless as I thought."

The mercenary made sure his weapons were secured and then turned back to the sergeant. "So? We taking a gander at this precious cargo or what?"

Dahlia Blackthistle

 

[Dahlia Blackthistle]

Clouded moonlight hid almost all her features from Cato, except for the flash of her teeth and the way the whites of eyes were swallowed by her shadowsight.

"I thought you'd never ask, Cap." Into the dark between them she offered her arm, "You know the drill. Hold on."

When she felt his gloved hand grasp her arm, she sent a wave of shadows over their forms. Adding layers where the light tried to break through. Covered with darkness and illusion where a glimpse of leather or dagger to a wary onlooker might give them away.

Dahlia wasn't good with people. But thankfully, she was very very good at her job.

And so, once she was satisfied that they had been completely cloaked to a degree where their discovery would only result from a rare lack of her skill or the luck of a guard more than anything, did she double tap the hand of her Captain to signal they were good to start moving.

In tandem they stalked unseen through the canvas tents and mingling cook fires that sprouted around the hub of the caravans. The camps closest to the caravans had been the other set of guards'. A further derision of the lack of trust being awarded to Cato's company.

No matter, they would find out one way or another, what was being hid from them. There was a reason they had decided to do this during the shift when most of these guards were outside of camp. Less of them to hear and come running to the sound of Dahlia prying the faux board from the paneling in the side of the main wagon, Cato keeping a hand pressed to her back to keep the illusion going while she worked.

With a final pull, the sergeant turned back and handed her Captain the board, exchanging a short series of silent hand signals to him that was common within the Blackshields.

Be ready.

Taking a deep breath, the sergeant reached into the hole she had made, her fingers gliding along strangely smooth wood, sweeping her arm around trying to make sense of what she was feeling. A secret compartment?

If Dahlia hadn't been so exposed to what went bump in the night, to having to keep quiet to survive, she would have screamed when what felt like an arm from within the compartment suddenly grasped onto her forearm, foreign fingers digging into the flesh of her arm. She jerked forward with the sudden pull of the other entity. Bracing herself with her other arm against the hole in the wagon.

Gritting her teeth and trying to breathe through her panic, she turned as best she could to look at Cato, the shadows leeching from her eyes from the dread of what this now meant for them.

"Fuck."

Cato

 

[Cato]

Cato shuddered as the cloaking spell washed over him. The mercenary captain wasn't overly fond of magic in general and that was doubly true when it was being cast on him. It felt like a pile of shit was being dumped over his head. He kept his complaints to himself as they moved through the camp. Better than having to skulk about while attempting to avoid detection. Cato remained wary in any case. He trusted Lia's talents but if there was one thing he'd learned over the years, there was always a better mage out there.

He didn't know what to expect once they got to the wagon but it sure as hells wasn't this. The mercenary captain didn't know what pulled at Lia but the simplest answer was usually correct. Fuck, his echoing thought followed. First things first, Cato shifted his weight and took a firm grip on the sergeant's shoulders. Like the idiot he was, this meant Cato broke contact with Lia entirely for a moment. He didn't recognize the dissipating spell even as he wrenched the other mercenary away from whatever ensnared her.

Assuming she was freed, the two would stumble backwards into plain view of any who were in the vicinity. Would've been embarrassing except the camp had erupted into bloody chaos. Steel rang through the night as unfamiliar figures began to cut down any in their way.

"Cap! We're fucked harder than a Radiant choirboy at evening prayer."

The mercenary captain looked at the other 'Shield member, nonplussed. "Bowl, why is it you only get poetic in these moments?" The corporal simply shrugged. Cato sighed and then looked to the sergeant. "Looks like we'll need talk with steel first 'fore we get some answers."

Dahlia Blackthistle

 

[Dahlia Blackthistle]

Dahlia found herself staring down the blade of a chipped sword. Shadows swirled around her nimble form as she dodged the worn edge with practiced ease.

She heard Bowl's words and shot back with a wry grin, "Well, Bowl, I'd say we're just a prayer short of a fucking miracle then!" A flurry of movements followed as she parried another attack, the clash of blades creating sparks that illuminated the night.

Her shadows became animated by her unspoken commands, they slithered along the ground, forming deceptive tendrils that entangled the legs of approaching foes, causing them to stumble and providing openings for the strikes of the Blackshields.
Cato

 

[Cato]

There was a sickening crunch as the pommel of Cato's blade broke the nose of the first unfortunate bastard he came across. The man wasn't in pain for long as another sword was lodged firmly in his gut moments later. Cato unceremoniously yanked the blade out and turned to the next aggressor. He didn't know much about these cunts other than they weren't here to ask questions. The mercenary had nearly tripped over some poor sod who'd been given a new smile while he was sleeping. Worse ways to go I suppose.

Cato wasn't interested in joining the dead guard and continued to fight for his bloody life. The 'Shields were still faring alright but the same couldn't be said of the merchant's guards. They were falling quick and that meant trouble for the mercenaries. He could tell Lia was trying her best to keep the rest afloat.

He sheathed his shortsword, drawing mana to himself as he did so. The mercenary captain unleashed a wave telekinetic energy. Azure power crashed into a pair of foes, sending bodily into the side of a wagon. They weren't likely to get up anytime soon, if ever.

"Lia! Take Bowl with you and gather the rest of our lot. We're double-fucked if things keep up like this." The Third was good in a chaotic scrap, but this was a proper fucking mess. They needed to get tight and make a stand. The problem was the numbers. There were just too many thrice-damned cunts bent on killing them. "Gonna see if I can't save us a few of these greenhorns."

They'd make decent fodder when it came down to it.

Dahlia Blackthistle

 

[Dahlia Blackthistle]

"With me?!" Dahlia yelled with disbelief. Her follow-up curse was lost in her dodging of a slash that left her with a cut on her cheek, sucking the air through her teeth in a hiss. Motherfuc— Well, she was righteously pissed now and showed it by sticking a knife into the man's neck. His surprised gurgle like music to her ears while he crumbled.

She withdrew her knife with a slick jolt and quickly wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, uncaring whose blood was being smeared.

"C'mon, Bowl!" She barked gruffly, already engaged with yet another vagabond, his sneer predatory. This group's moves were blunt and undisciplined, but they made up for it with brutality. The sheer force the majority of these false guards were throwing behind their blows was wearing Dahlia down quicker than she was comfortable with admitting. She wasn't meant for drawn out fights like this where the numbers weren't in their favor. Subterfuge was more her speed.

But it seemed that her preferences meant shit at the end of the day when it came to fighting for her own survival.

She just needed a moment where she wasn't being bombarded by blades to cast out her shadows and level the field.

Following the will of her Captain, Dahlia slowly maneuvered closer towards her comrades, pulling a handful into her orbit.

"Captain!! Ready!" Her shout almost drowned out by the clashing of steel and bloodthirsty men.

Cato

 

[Cato]

Cato nearly lost his balance tripping over some poor sod's corpse. He stumbled forward, right into a pair of unscrupulous bastards. Steel flashed as he deflected one attack from the next. His blade nicked the neck of the first as he spun and caught the second in the side. Both of the cunts fell to the ground, clutching at their wounds. The mercenary captain wasn't in the mood to hear any begging and finished them off quick.

He pushed forward until he saw a trio of lads somehow still on their feet. Cato charged forward, introducing his own brand of chaos. His longsword caught the collarbone of one and his short pierced the belly of another. "Back towards the camp you daft shits!"

The mercenary's words goaded them into action as the three-and-one fought back towards the main camp. Cato sighed in relief as he saw Lia was with the remaining 'Shields. He wiped steel on the hem of his cloak, erasing both blood and hope.

A foul grin found the captain as death closed in around them. "Made a wager with the captain of the First. He said any thrice-dumb ratfucker comes back from this gets a go at his private casks." The mercenary captain couldn't predict how the remaining 'Shields would react but Cato sure as hell knew how he would. Dice had been tossed, he could only hope someone bucked the table.

Dahlia Blackthistle