A low hum, as if to say, yes, it wasn't. 'Gentlemen, leave us!' Agatha pressed to her feet as her officers filed out, one by one. Most of them bore the telltale signs of battle; bloodstains, dented armour, fresh scars to accompany the plethora that came before them. Agatha's black plate bore a few new scars of its own.
Like all of them, she had led from the front when necessary.
'Cato, close the door, please.' What followed would not be for outside ears to hear. Pouring herself another cup of wine, and one for her fellow Captain, the she-orc proposed a toast. 'To the 'Shields! Hardest bastards this side of the Sanguine!' Pouring the contents down her throat, Agatha placed her cup aside.
A drop of red, to go with the stuff smattering her neck and face.
Staring at Cato, her hands placed firmly on the kitchen table she had taken for her own, Agatha fought hard the urge to leap across and begin throttling the bastard. She could feel her teeth grinding together, her pulse quickening. Her rage, reigniting.
'Pull up a chair! I've words to share and not long in which to share them.'
Sitting back down, her armoured skin clicking together, Agatha flipped the map she had been consulting around. 'Have to say, I'm not surprised to see you, Cato,' she growled, angling a wry look his way. 'You always were the luckiest of fools, even way back when. Didn't matter if you were neck-deep in enemies or rolling dice with the local toughs, you always managed to come out on top.'
Agatha smiled, though even the most dull-witted among them could see it was false.
'Not this time. This time, wefucked up.' She put much emphasis into sharing the blame. It took two to tango, after all. Agatha had never been much of a dancer. Should've seen this coming, she thought, reaching for the wine. Her hand stopped halfway.
It fell back to the table, heavy as her heart, and blacker, still.
'What happened?' She asked. 'Where did we go wrong?'
Cato caught a few hateful glances from the Second's officers are they filed out. Salty bastards. This was hardly the first time. While the two captains got along decent enough, same couldn't be said of their men. Just looked at the world too different. Been some blood shed over the years but eventually they got past it, they always did. 'Shields were 'Shields after all.
He stepped forward and took the offered mug. "Toughest cunts I've ever known!" he responded with his own toast before downing the wine. This wasn't exactly the welcome Cato been expecting.
'Pull up a chair! I've words to share and not long in which to share them.'
Ah, she's properly pissed. Cato took a seat without further preamble. Weren't a lot of things the mercenary was afraid of but an angry she-orc who knew her way round a blade was definitely near the top of the list. "Had to be, wouldn't got out of the 'Lirian slums otherwise. Getting beat to death is bout the nicest thing that can happen to you elseway." Cato shrugged. "You never seemed to need luck."
The mercenary captain allowed Aggs last words to simmer for a moment and then finally sighed. "Day I was born, least in my case." Cato's expression hardened. "Not sure what you want me to say Aggs. Yeah, we fucked up. I fucked up. But this is the business. There's bad choices and shittier ones. I wasn't holding out for the Baron to come break the siege, nobles always play the odds. Gods know they weren't tilted in our favor. Would've been a slow death for us. Least this gave us a chance..." There was a desperate belief in his words.
A chance for them to harry us into extinction? The opportunity for them to dismantle us, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but our sun-bleached bones and tattered banners? The thoughts were there, spinning just behind Agatha's eyes. She hated running, hated being forced to do anything. It made her feel inferior. Blackshield Captains were supposed to be anything but.
Still, Cato was right. To stay was to die, and her first duty was and always had been to the Company.
Nodding, Agatha dismissed her friend's explanation with a wave of her hand.
'No point crying over spilt milk,' she grumbled, turning her attention to the map. 'Onto business, then. We are here!' She pointed to a spot on the map, smaller than those surrounding it. 'Lorenstad! Little hamlet, barely worth the ink, as your boys have no doubt discovered in the short time they've been here.'
No taverns. No whorehouses or gambling dens. Not even a bucket in which to piss.
'Baron Langier's land, or at least it was, until High King Brannigan decided he wanted it for himself. Down here we have the Baron Gauner's domain. Real fertile plot, from what I hear, and I hear an awful lot.' It was part of the reason the Second were so successful. Having a well-developed network of informants was the key to getting the best contracts.
Building connections, securing alliances. Real mercwork wasn't just fighting. It was forging.
A future, yes, and the fortune to go with it.
'Now, it's not my favourite choice. Gauner's a true blueblood. Hates mercenaries- despises us, even. But I'd wager he hates being subjugated by a foreign king more.' And after what that King had done to Taernsby, well, Agatha was sure he would welcome the Shields' aid. Course, he was likely to bluster and blow hot air their way; they had abandoned the town, after all.
Alas, experienced swords were worth their weight in gold, and the Blackshields were worth a whole lot.
"Not sure I've ever had milk,"Cato responded half-jokingly. He'd been drinking ale since before he could walk. Didn't really much help with the walking neither. "More than half-empty by the time we got here. Good thing too, lads are in a foul mood. Never really bodes well for the townsfolk." Well, not all of them were put out. Some were riding that high of barely escaping death, a rush unlike anything else. Likely to be an even more dangerous mood if Cato was being honest. The captain simply decided to count himself lucky on this one
He listened to Aggs' explanation and her thoughts reflected his own. There was still the contract, even if they had temporarily fucked up. Taking Taernsby just by themselves at this point was impossible. It sounded as if the Second's information was as good as ever. Cato ventured the Third had individual better suited to the task but the information was of a different nature.
"Wouldn't mind giving that bastard Brannigan a new smile before this is all over. But aye, it's going to have to be Gauner." There weren't many people that liked them in any case. Mercenaries aren't hired to be friendly, it's usually to kill folk. A man trying to protect his own wealthy will do just about bloody anything. Cato'd seen it more times than he could count. "Let's just hope one us didn't fuck his wife in the past."
Contracts had been broken in stranger ways.
"Those sharp ears of yours hear anything bout how many swords Gauner's got?"
A grin tugged at the corners of Agatha's lips. A flash of teeth followed. 'Oh, I do so enjoy the taste of noble quim,' she said, smiling across at Cato. Noblewomen, especially the married ones, were often more trouble than they were worth. Didn't stop her from getting tangled up with them. Didn't stop Cato, either. Risk and reward.
The bigger the risk, the better the reward. Supposedly.
'As a matter of fact, they did!' Agatha continued, glad to hear Cato was thinking along the same lines as her. 'Our dear friend the Baron has six hundred swords at his disposal, give or take. Add on the force we have here, plus any stragglers we pick up along the way, and you've got yourself a pretty sizable fighting force. Enough to turn and bloody Brannigan's nose, should it come to it.'
Agatha had yet to see the butcher's bill for Taernsby, but she was expecting a figure in the high dozens. More than I'm ever willing to pay, that.
Not that she was given much choice in the matter.
'The report I received two days ago placed him at Oakcross. It's nineteen miles south south-west of here.' She tapped the map, dragged her finger along the closest arterial to the spot in question. 'My boys can cover thirty miles a day. Our wounded will slow us down some, but I'll be damned if I leave them to the High King's mercies after what's transpired here tonight.'
Cato grinned along with his fellow captain. Both of them had been known to mix business and pleasure from time to time. Rubbing shoulders with nobles was usually frustrating but occasionally had its silver linings. Also could get one killed, but that was the game.
The mercenary whistled at the mention of six-hundred swords. Not exactly a number that could be ignored. Far more than Cato had been expecting. This may not entirely be a fool's errand after all. More importantly, it would give the lads a bit of confidence. 'Course the captain couldn't say what the quality of the Baron's swords were but it was better than nothing.
He considered the map, looking to Oakcross and then back to their own position. "I've got no mind to leave our people behind but there's a bit of problem." There always was if he was being honest. "Done a bit of canvassing, had a word with the menders. Well, more like they told me to take a long walk off a short pier. Any case, obviously we got wounded but some are in properly bad shape. I'm not worried bout them slowing us down, healers say they're like to die if they take the journey."
Standing, he pointed to spot on the map not far north from their current location. "My lads say there's a town called Melbridge not ten miles from here. Got a few experienced cutters there as well. Thinking we each break off a squad and send them with those in the worst condition. Give em time to get healed up enough to travel properly. You know my lads have a knack for avoiding authority." A smaller group could move easier and then disappear without much notice. "If Brannigan is keen on coming after us, we'll be the only tracks left to follow."
He thought it was a sound approach but considering his last idea, better to let Aggs weigh in.
'I'll take a likely death over a certain one any day,' Agatha mumbled, rubbing at her chin thoughtfully. 'The plan's sound. Better than letting 'em die slow, at least.' A nod. 'I second this plan. In the meantime, we'd best get to kicking up dust, enough to blind any pursuers King Brannicunt sends after us.'
Pouring over the map long enough to seem like she knew what she was doing, Agatha made a few observations of her own.
'Once our boys break off for Melbridge, we'll be quick-toeing it to Oakcross. To avoid being left in the lurch by your hedge-cutters, I suggest a reversal,' she said, walking her fingers across the map and onto the wine pitcher. 'My lot lead the van, yours take the rearguard.'
She tilted, refilled the cup that had run dry. Passed to Cato.
'Ambushers, bushwhackers, cutthroats.' The Third's men and women had many names, none of them nice. They also had a reputation among their peers. Those who ran the knife-edge with them, like the Second, knew them to be real crafty when it came to fighting, and gambling.
Cato's lot -and they were his- did not know the meaning of the word fair.
'The kind of folk I wouldn't wanna chase through hilly country, that's for damned sure!' Smiling, Aggs offered her cup in salute. 'What say you? Fancy some payback?'
"Make us sound like such villains," he quipped with mock hurt. "Though think that's about the nicest thing that's ever been said about us." The Third had a dubious reputation to say the least. Not everyone fought their battles in a respectful manner. If his enemies weren't going to, then why in the seven hells should he. Cato and his cohort embraced the irreverence. The lads got out of hand every once in awhile but the 'Shields were still standing. It'd take a little more than a few degenerates to knock the Company out of business.
"Works for me. Best to give the lads something to do anyways. Spilling some bastards' blood should lighten their mood. Wouldn't want them running into Gauner's men all on edge." Cato knew that the Baron's men saw themselves above 'simple sellswords'. They'd make a point of it too, they always did. Dumb cunts prettied themselves with a few yards of silk and thought it meant something.
He finally lifted the recently refilled mug and promptly downed the contents. "Best get to it then."
Cato paused in the doorway as if remembering something mid-step. "Think you can deliver the news to the menders? One of em said something bout turning me into a eunuch with a rusty blade. Thinking its better I don't show my face 'round there 'til they've cooled off some." The mercenary captain shuddered at the thought before heading off for good this time.
'For you? Anything.' Standing, Agatha saw off the last of the wine as Cato left. A wave of exhaustion washed over her as she crossed to the doorway. How many close calls had she survived during their flight from Taernsby? How much luck did she have left? Not much, she thought sourly, taking a seat on the steps.
Her cup, empty now, slipped from her fingers to land in the mud between her feet. It had been a while since the Company had been tested so thoroughly. Had she done the right thing by supporting Cato with his plan? Would the men she had lost forgive her for leading them to their deaths? Maybe.
Maybe not.
No point second-guessing myself. It was the start of the end, that. Once a Captain began doubting themselves, there was very little they could do to stop the doubts from spiralling out of control. Inevitably, a few tried, turning to booze and snuff to get by. Seeking peace in oblivion, some called it.
Agatha called it fucking stupid.
'Elam wouldn't have wanted that for me,' she said, addressing her demons upfront. The Old Captain held a special place in her heart. The greatest of the Second, he had burned bright, and fizzled out far too soon. A number of the old hands believed it fated. Nothing good lasted forever, and a Captain like that...
'Here's looking at you, Boss.' With a close-fisted salute and a silent prayer to whomever was listening, Agatha rose to her feet. There was work to be done, and by God would she be the one to do it.
The Blackshields set off towards Oakcross after making their preparations. Cato only had a handful of men with him while the rest of the squads were out making mischief. He knew that with the Second running the van, there weren't likely to be any problems in front. It was their usual haunt after all. Some of the other cohort's lads had a few unkind words but otherwise, things had been smooth. There was bound to be a bit of spite after the shit they went through in Taernsby. Most had finally turned that anger towards Brannigan and his men.
He heard the rapid sound of hooves behind as a rider quickly pulled up alongside him. The man snapped off a quick salute, one of the few who actually bothered. Cato was pretty sure he used to serve in some important lord's army, though he never said as much. Policy was usually not to ask about those type of things. The mercenary captain gave the messenger a questioning look.
"Captain, we got some action. Brannicu-Brannigan's men thought they could run us down." Cato couldn't help but grin at the moniker, which had caught on like wildfire since their escape. "Light cavalry mostly, would've thought they were scouts if they didn't have a pair of spellslingers with them. Fingers says they were looking for blood, no mistake." The mercenary captain knew better than doubt the Third's unofficial torturer on these matters.
Cato knew that greedy bastard wouldn't have been able to resist. Pride was everything to these thrice-dumb nobles. Well, it wasn't like they were ever the ones doing the dying. The mercenary captain looked thoughtful for a moment and then turned his mount around. "Gonna make sure things don't get out of hand. Ride ahead and let Captain Agatha know. Don't think there's any way they could've got in front of us but best not to take chances."
All Cato had to do was ride until he heard the screams.
Two cohorts on the march made for quite the sight. Overlooking the procession winding its way towards Oakcross, Agatha nodded in approval as the leading centuries thundered past in lockstep. Brick led the van, his century marching in battle order. Should the High King's forces somehow manage to outmanoeuvre them, at least they would be ready for a fight.
'I won't allow another Taernsby,' Agatha had promised her officers earlier that morning, having informed them of the plan she had agreed upon with Cato.
There had been little griping from the men. Some, still smarting for the breakout, were keen to hit the road and put as much distance as they could between themselves and those they had come to blows with in Taernsby. A few -meaning Brutus's sycophants- had voiced their displeasure, arguing that the Company would be better served by staying put in order to tend to the wounded. Proper-like.
Agatha had told them they were welcome to stay. She had even offered to lend them shovels, so that they needn't struggle when it came time to dig their own graves.
There was a shout, a challenge.
Turning her head, Agatha cussed as her bodyguard let the rider through. 'Let me guess! The High King's dogs are snapping at our heels and I should be wary of any attempt to get ahead of us?' The rider, his mount sweat-slick and breathing hard, nodded. 'That's about the gist of it, aye.' He glanced about, clearly wishing to be somewhere else. 'Do you... do you wish for me to take word to the Cap'n? Captain Cato, that is.'
Agatha shook her head.
'No, thank you. I'll do it myself.' Nodding, the rider wheeled his mount around. No need for a salute, this being contested territory and all. 'Wineskin! Head to the fore and tell Brick to keep the cohort moving! The rest of you, with me!'
Frantic yells followed by clashing steel greeted the mercenary captain as he arrived at the year. Horses and human corpses alike scattered the ground ahead. The first wave of cavalry clearly had been decimated. A ghost of a grin crept onto Cato's face. Greedy bastard really thought he could run them down. Damned shame Brannicunt hadn't been this dumb from the start. Well, anger had a way of turning one stupid. But even idiots could be dangerous.
Sergeant Hoof's squad was dealing with the remaining enemies. Some were holding out far better than Cato expected. Probably cause they knew the 'Shields were in no mood to give any quarter. There just wasn't any room for negotiation after Taernsby. The mercenary captain wasn't keen on it in any case.
A familiar figure appeared from the treeline off to the east. "Weren't there a pair of mages?" he asked as Fingers approached. She ran gnarled hands through her unkempt hair as she responded. "Aye. Little rats scurried soon as things went bad. Turns out they weren't just running anywhere. Brannicunt's had a few squads moving through the forest."
Cato gave the woman an inquisitive glance, as if to ask why she was here at all. "We've been giving them seven kinds of hell but there's more raff than we thought." The mercenary captain looked towards the clearing and then back to the treeline, considering his options.
"Alright, have Hoof stay here with a squad and the rest come with me. The more of these bastards we kill now, less we gotta deal with later." Cato knew he was leaving the rear line a little thin. However, he knew Agatha well-enough to know she'd send some reinforcements after getting the report. There was always a chance that a second wave was on the way and most of the Third's traps had already been sprung.
He'd deal with these other cunts quickly and get back to the 'Shields original business.
The last of the Second ground past at the double. In their wake came the first elements of Cato's rabble. And what a sorry lot they are, Agatha thought, thanking her lucky stars that she had wound up in command of the Second and not this shabby excuse of a cohort.
'Brutus, be a good sport and go see what the fuck's taking them so long, would you?'
Huffing, the shovel-faced bodyguard road off amidst a spree of badly-conveyed expletives. 'And speak up! If you're going to curse me, at least do so to my face!' Smiling, the she-orc turned to regard the situation ahead of them. Dead men, dead horses, and no sign of that bastard Cato or his tame mages.
'Looks like someone bit off more than they could chew,' Steppe remarked, getting a few chuckles in return. Agatha snorted. 'S'what they get for trying to slow us down,' she said, brows rising as a sergeant approached with all due haste. 'Something the matter, Hoof?'
Surprised at having been recognised by the Captain of another cohort, the sergeant drew up short.
'No, ma'am! 'Tis all under control!'
'You hear that shit? He called her ma'am!'
'Shut the fuck up, Grouse! The rest of you, watch those trees, lest you fancy an arrow up the arse!'
Choosing to ignore her men, the she-orc swept her gaze over the nearby woodland. The trail of dead led deeper into the trees, and she could see brushfires where magic had been traded a bit too liberally for her liking. 'I assume my brother-captain is somewhere deep inside that mess, no?'
'That'd be the gist of it, ma-um... uh, Captain.' Hoof cast a glance towards the other riders. 'Gone a-hunting. The more we kill now, the less we have to deal with later. 'Is words, apparently.'
Bloody beautiful!
Sighing, Agatha span around sharpish. 'I'll take three men. The rest of you, form a screen around the column. These little shit-stirrers will be looking for holes in our defences all day if we let 'em.' With that, Agatha spurred her hog towards the stand of trees nearest to the road. If she stopped a bolt looking for him, she was going to be mighty displeased.
Cato cursed as his cloak snagged on yet another branch in this godforsaken forest. He'd left his mount some ways back with the idea of secrecy in mind. Mostly he was sure the poor beast would end up as ground-meat if Cato decided to ride in all heroic. He figured there were still a few traps his lads had set that hadn't been sprung. Also he suspected it was going to be bloody chaos. No point in losing a good horse. Gods only knew they weren't cheap.
The unmistakable sounds of an all-out melee grew louder with each passing step. Fingers had done a good job of leading them to the flank. The mercenary captain spotted a handful of archers and a pair of mages at the rear. Exactly the sort of cowardly prey he'd come looking for. He flashed a series of hand signals and the 'Shields drew steel.
A deep breath, followed by another. Then his feet were moving, first to burst through the cover. An archer was quick to react and let loose. Wood splintered along the telekinetic shield he prepared. The mercenary captain ignored the archer and charged directly towards the closest mage. His blade came down without hesitation, cutting the man's hand off at the wrist. He spun around, his offhand delivering the final blow. The rest of Brannigan's men had fallen with similar alacrity.
His satisfaction was short-lived. Cato looked to the main melee and saw about thirty more men then he'd expected. The captain looked to Fingers who simply shrugged as if to say 'I warned you'.
"Everyone's fucking fired!" he yelled at no one in particular as he ordered his troops into the fray. His only consolation being that the main column's rear flank wasn't likely to get hit by any significant force. Seeing as they were all apparently bloody here.
Agatha could hear the sounds of fighting through the trees. Distant, then close. Distant again. Should've just stayed in Taernsby, she thought, fangs bared as the four hogs bore on through. Trees branches whipped out to snag her hair, her hog's bristly mane. 'Who the fuck came up with this idea?!' One of her bodyguards yelled, laughter in his voice.
Agatha smiled and ignored him.
Then, she spied a brief glimpse of light through the trees. 'There!' She pointed, tulwar raised and ready. The hog riders wheeled about, breaking from the thicket. And into untold carnage.
Oh! Was all she had time to think as the first of the enemy turned to address them. Hunching low in her saddle, the she-orc let out a ululating battle cry as she ploughed headlong into the rear of the enemy formation, like a bull in a beer tent. Men flew from her path, or else were cut down to be trampled under hoof. Yet more poured in from the sides, their weapons probing, trying to hook her from her mount.
Then, her escort arrived.
The High King's men were not used to this kind of warfare. Unordered, chaotic, it put paid to their disciplined ranks, all the training they had undergone useless in the face of such... sheer madness.
'Sides, what kind of enemy rode an oversized pig into battle?
'Blackshields!' Agatha hollered, identifying herself as her posse barrelled on through the throng of bodies to where Cato and his men were fighting. Her warhogs left a slew of bodies behind them, swiping with tusks, and kicking out with hindlegs. Never still, always moving. It's how they were taught, how they were raised.
Beautiful beasts, the Captain thought, brandishing her bloodied tulwar as she stared down at Cato. 'This isn't what I had in mind when I suggested you take the rearguard!' She laughed, turning to review the skirmish. 'Still, could be worse!'
There were no singing larks in this pretty piece of forestry, only steel and screams. Cato was currently tasting dirt and not liking it all too much. Some bastard thought the mercenary would enjoy making friends with a shield. Wasn't sure if he'd broken a rib but gods knew it felt like. Cato's vision swam as he desperately sought to catch his breath. Instinct told him he needed to move immediately or he was a dead man. So he rolled about as gracefully as a pig in mud. The rush of air that followed meant he'd just narrowly avoided having his skull crushed.
Cato lashed out wildly with his blade and rewarded with a cry of pain. The mercenary captain found his second wind as he quickly got to his feet. His opponent was hunched over in pain so the mercenary decided to return the favor. He kicked the king's man to the ground and made sure not to make the same mistake of giving him time to recover. Hardened steel did its business.
He tried to take stock and it was bloody fucking chaos, pure and simple. Exactly what his lads were best at. Still, their prospects were looking rough. That was until the cry of 'Blackshields' rang through the field. Cato never thought he'd be so happy to see those stinkin hogs.
"Things were apparently getting a little too bland so the boys decided to add a bit of color." His tone was somewhere between exasperation and amusement. "What's say we finish this up nice and quick, then go see a king about a throne?"
Even with his balls in a vice, Cato wasn't one to squeal. 'Yes. Let's!' Into the fray and out and in again. It never ends. Agatha thought, thinking of past fights, her mind wandering from the present. How many more before the Second found itself seeking a new captain to lead it? How many before the Third sought the same?
Her hog snorted as she wheeled it about, eager for blood and the bounteous feast to follow. The cohort's battle mounts weren't fussy. One meal was as good as the next, and they had eaten well these last few years.
Splitting off from Cato, Agatha rallied his Blackshields to her, her words of encouragement just as good as his, considering the pinch they found themselves in. Using her hog and the few bodyguards she had brought with her, the rearguard soon had the enemy routed. The bodies they left in their wake were quickly looted, the wounded offered mercy. Very few refused it, or had the strength to.
It shamed her to see a number of her brother's men among the fallen.
'Right, you horrible lot! Best skedaddle while the coast is clear!'They'll catch up again before long, the she-orc mused, gathering up the stragglers, her bloodied tulwar as good a goad as any.
'I'm going back to the front,' she told Cato, wiping her weapon clean with the folds of her black cloak. The blade hissed nicely when she returned it to its sheathe. 'Hustle it up, ey? We make it to Oakcross and everything's gravy!' She was almost certain of it.
Business handled, Cato did a quick tally. Near a score wounded and a little less than half that dead. Should've been far worse considering their odds. Most of the time he would've considered this a fine outcome. Except this weren't most times. They'd flowed a Bystra's worth of blood getting out of Taernsby. Cato'd been in the game long enough to know the price of survival never came cheap, so he wasn't one to balk easily. These last days made for a hard lesson. He still hadn't seen it all. The mercenary was beginning to wonder if maybe he'd seen enough.
He shrugged off the doubt as quickly as it came. This was all he knew, and all he would ever know. Too late for regrets. "Go on then. Your good-cheer is like to sour my mood." The mercenary captain offered a lazy wave to his peer as she set off for the front.
Cato saw to the remaining cleanup and then mustered those that still remained.
The rear of the column had fortunately not seen any action since before. Members of the Third sidled up next to others, keen to know all that happened. A simple 'fuck off' for some while a few were more than happy to regale. A smattering of truth embellished by a handful of horseshit. Business as usual.
So they rode on without incident. Cato elected to remain at the rear should things go sideways again. Nothing of the sort happened this time around. Eventually a rider came to inform him of their imminent arrival to Oakcross.
The castle at Oakcross was a fat, ugly little thing. A dry moat ringed the lone wall. Pennant's flew from the towers flanking the fortified gate, declaring allegiance to a Lord whose name meant nothing to the Captain. Even so, the sight of those colourful flags was enough to make Agatha's heart swell with relief. It had been a short march, all things told. The Second, inexorable as always, had made good time from Taernsby.
She could still see the fires burning, plumes of black smoke rising from the ruined town; a reminder of the destruction they had left behind.
The scouts had reached Oakcross half an hour ahead of the main host. Graves, Markop and Dirty Des had taken a look around. Their reports had lifted Agatha's spirits further.
Then, along came Cato, the age-old question on his lips. 'Baron Gauner is here,' she replied with a tired smile that didn't reach her eyes. 'Arrived five hours ago, or so the lads tell me. That's his banner up there, next to Baron Langford's.' Again, the latter name meant nothing to her, though, Agatha had heard tell his lady-wife was well worth remembering. 'A distant cousin of our dear friend Baron Langier, Taerah rest his soul. Between them, they've managed to muster just under eight hundred men.'
Agatha hoped there were more to come. The High King's host was as large as it was fierce. Complemented by mercenaries and foreign barbarians, they had likely sacked Taernsby in order to pay off what the King owed his temporary allies.
Greedy bastard, the she-orc thought, eyeing the village nearby. Soldiers in multicoloured tabards were billeted there. Drinking the place dry no doubt. At least their camp appeared in good order.
"Sloth bastard. A quick-march on their part could've saved us a fair bit of grief, and winery's worth of blood." Initially Gauner was supposed to show up nearly a week ago to reinforce the 'Shields in Taernsby. When things started going sour, Cato sent word asking them to hurry their pampered asses up. That was the mercenary captain's first mistake. He'd only given the Baron another reason to slow down; wait to see how things played out. Words needed to be had but now was not the best time.
He looked at the banners raised, an impressive sight if you didn't know any better. "Eight hundred..." He echoed. "Let's hope we're not last to the party." Both of the captains knew these numbers weren't likely to cut it. They weren't a small force but Brannigan knew they were coming. Overwhelming force was always better than the other option. Somehow the 'Shields historically found themselves on the wrong side of the odds.
Cato looked to the town and then back to the rest of the column. He ran a hand through his mottled brown hair. "Suppose we best get this over with." They needed to find the Baron, make introductions, and figure out what in the bloody hells the plan was. Assuming these thrice-dumb nobles had managed to conjure something up.
The mercenary captain usually brought a second with him but wanted to leave as many officers behind as possible. His lads were still seeing red and that could send the wagon off the road real quick-like.
"Wager we'll need to crack a nose or two before we get our 'audience'."
'If that's what it takes.' They had already spilt enough blood to drown the Devil Himself. What was one more "bloodied nose" when compared to the lives they had lost fleeing Taernsby, or those they had taken to get away, if not whole, then strong enough to make a difference, come what may.
'Have the men make camp,' she told Brutus as he rode to join them, 'and make sure to keep them on a tight leash. I don't want to be hearing about brawls and knives being pulled on allies.'
'Aye,' spat Brutus, as pleasant as ever. 'I'm sure His Lordliness will be ever so pleased to see you!' The orc grinned, flashing his fangs, like the bloodthirsty oaf he had proven himself to be. Agatha thanked her lucky stars the cohort had possessed enough sense not to elect him Captain of the Second.
Too blunt a tool for the job, she thought, recalling all the times he had counselled her towards violence when a word in the right ear would suffice. 'I'll be sure to pass along your regards,' she said, turning away. 'See to it that the lads settle in okay, Brutus.'
'Ay-'
'I mean it.' The usual calmness was gone from her voice. Now, a fire raged, coursing from the depths of her soul to scorch those as yet unscorched. 'No fighting. No fucking fighting.' Sharing a look with her bodyguards, Brutus cleared his throat.
'Aye, Captain, no fighting.'
Nodding, Agatha spurred her hog towards the castle. Shadows were gathering, up on the parapet, and the she-orc saw a number fluttering around the gate. 'Remember what you said about noses, Cato...'
Cato also spotted the soldiers both high and low. Certainly made bloodying noses a damned sight more dangerous. A wrong move was like to see the two mercenaries turned to pincushions. They didn't wade through a river of blood to get turned away at the door. "More than one way to skin a cat Aggs." Cato surprised himself with how confident he sounded. Turns out he was pretty fucking livid.
The pair stopped before the castle gates and were greeted with all the cheer of a graveyard. Corpses would've made for better company if he was being honest. Better a ghoul than a cocksure guard with a bit of livery. Seems the rumors about the Baron's disdain for sellswords was well-earned. Cato was long past giving a shit.
"Cato and Agatha of the Blackshields," announced the mercenary captain.
"And?" responded a nameless soldier with all the care of a noble's son.
"And we got business with the Baron, as you well-know."
"Can't say that I do."
"That doesn't surprise me. Rat-ugly bastard like you isn't like to know much." A handful of soldiers took an angry step forward.
Twang.
An arrow from the parapet landed between the guard's legs. Bit of telekinetic trickery Cato thought up as they made their approach. "You might think you got balls lad but that won't be the case when the dice land. That much I can promise." The mercenary captain usually had a cynical demeanor but rarely was it overtly threatening. He'd ran right past sarcasm and straight to hate.
A step back, followed by a reluctant hand-signal. Iron screeched as the castle's gate gave way.
"Ladies first," said Cato with a motion to his peer.
Agatha toyed with the pommel of her tulwar as the boys measured up. This kind of posturing was common practise among warriors, but the she-orc would have been lying if she said she hadn't grown tired of it. 'Please, gentlemen-' An arrow thumped into the ground. Agatha sighed.
Waiting as the gates toiled open, the Captain of the Second turned her golden gaze on Cato.
'I believe that's the first time anyone's ever called me a lady.' Smiling through her exhaustion, she walked her hog on through the gate. The guards scowled at her from behind their visors, each man tensing up as the big boar waddled by, farting loudly.
Inside, the yard was busy with milling troops. Knights and men-at-arms, for the most part, they all turned to regard the two mercenaries with cold stares. 'All dressed up with no where to go, huh?' Ignoring the eyes driving daggers into her back, Agatha dismounted by the stables. A young boy, barely out of his teens, ran to take her hog, drawing up short with a start.
Agatha smiled.
'Don't be afraid,' she said, 'Daisy doesn't bite. Feed her oats and give her a good scrubdown, and put her in a stall of her own.' Best way to avoid accidents, that. 'Y-yes, Lady!' Turning to Cato, Agatha nodded towards the keep. An attendant had appeared in the yard shortly after they had arrived. The she-orc watched him approach.
'Agatha and Cato, I presume?'
'No.'
'N-no?' The attendant blinked. 'No,' repeated Agatha. 'I am Captain Agatha, of the Second. And this fine specimen standing beside me is Captain Cato, of the Third.' The attendant blinked again, his gaze flitting between them. 'What's wrong?' Agatha asked. 'Cat got your tongue, or have you just forgotten your manners?'
'No, no, Captains! Forgive me!' Bowing, his face a deeper shade of pomegranate, the attendant straightened. 'His Lordship, Baron Alpharius Gauner, is ready to receive you in the war room. P-please, if you'll kindly follow me!'
"Yeah, well, don't get used to it," the mercenary shot back with a grin. Might've had something to do with the fact that Aggs could carve through a half-dozen swords on her own. Not the usual sort to be called ladies and Cato sure as hells wasn't a lord. 'Course he wasn't even sure it was true in any case. Been a few stories about his fellow captain's escapades. Some poor noble sod probably tried at least once. The mere thought was enough to lift his spirits momentarily.
Their frigid welcome remain unchanged until they finally dismounted. Cato looked on bemusedly as the stableboy approached. He couldn't imagine the young lad tended to anything like Daisy before. Didn't seem to shy from the task however. 'Least one of these lads has a pair. Cato nearly choked at the boy's use of the honorific. "Guess maybe you should be getting used to it."
Then arrived the attendant. This time Agg's took the lead. Cato watched on, unsure of whether the other captain was angry or simply teasing the fool. Likely a bit of both, though more of the former if the mercenary was to make a bet.
The escort to the war room was quick and uneventful. Most of the castle's workers were too busy to scoff at the newly arrived mercenaries. Announced, they entered decently-sized room. As to be expected, a large oak table sat in the center with a map of the area sprawled across it. A number of attendants and soldiers milled about with a stout, but sure man at their center.
Before Cato could speak, another man standing next to the Baron spoke with a sneer. "Did you lot get lost?" His armor was not so grand but was enough to paint him a noble, as if his cuntish behavior weren't enough.
"Thought we'd stop to take in the sights," responded Cato in a dangerous tone.
The war room, much to Agatha's dismay, was as big a mess as the one they had just fought their way out of. 'Lord Gauner! Lord Langford!' Dipping her head respectfully, the Captain cast her gaze around the room. There were perhaps a dozen people present, barring herself and Cato. 'I hope this isn't it,' she whispered in a quite aside to Cato.
Baron Langford's ears pricked up.
'What was that?' He demanded. Gauner sighed. 'I said, "I hope this isn't it,"' Agatha replied. Langford blinked. Clearly, he wasn't accustomed to being stood up to. His face reddened. 'Why, I should-' There was a loud bang as Gauner slammed his fist into the table.'That's enough!' He bellowed, silencing the room in one fell swoop. 'Baron Langford! Captain Agatha! Please, could the two of you refrain from such churlish behaviour. You are not children in need of a good spanking. You are warriors!' He paused, collecting himself. 'So, start bloody acting like it. Otherwise, remove yourselves from this place!'
That's more like it, Agatha smiled.
'Aye, Lord.' Thoroughly chastised, Langford folded his arms across his chest. Gauner nodded. 'Right, then! To business!' Thumping the map stretched between them with a thick finger, the Baron laid out the situation as it stood. The gathered knights and military advisors grouped around the table listened in as he spoke of the disaster at Taernsby, and the mess currently unfolding all along their eastern border.
'This is an unprovoked attack made by a man whose ambition outweighs his ability, gentlemen. The so-called High King,'Brannicunt, 'has taken to hiring savages and mercenaries to do the majority of his fighting for him, whilst his main force sits back and watches the show unfold.' Highlighting the enemy positions with figurines, Baron Gauner's eyes drifted to the Blackshields.
'I believe you two can confirm said reports, can you not?' Agatha saw Langford eyeing her closely.
'We can, Lord.'
'Good! And this talk of spellcasters? Is there any truth to it?' Now, the room really was listening. Agatha turned to Cato, a small, private smile on her face. Well?
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