Private Tales Trouble Comes Knocking

[Agatha]

Several weeks of marching and what did they have to show for it? Nothing. Nothing but sore feet, blisters and sunburn. Having called a halt for the day, Captain Agatha of the Blackshields marched into her quarters with a look of quiet dismay written upon her face. Several weeks of slow-going had put a strain on the company, she knew; supplies were running out, and so was the patience of some of the more restless members of her fraternity. To some degree, the captain shared their frustration. What had started out as a seemingly profitable business venture along the western edge of the Falwood had quickly soured into something Agatha didn't much like the taste of.

But such was a mercenary's lot in this world. The good days were few and the bad days plentiful, but either one paid. And getting paid was all that mattered in the end.

Only we're not getting paid, Agatha thought with a grimace, sinking into the nearest camping chair with a sigh. No, they had stopped getting paid a while ago, and the pay chest was suffering because of it. Already the whispers of mutiny had begun. A few low voices even spoke of turning bandit, though, Agatha considered that a last course of action given their current location. The Falwood would be up in arms at such an action. Still, at least we wouldn't need to worry about going hungry. Being dead would see to that particular problem. Given how her men acted sometimes, it was a wonder the company had lasted this long.

A shadow darkened her tent flap. A hand swatted the canvas.

"Come in!" Agatha called. Watching with travel-wearied eyes, the she-orc raised a brow as the shadow materialised into none other than Redbad, one of Captain Cato's favoured scouts. "Captain." Snapping off a crisp salute, the ornery old elf came to attention just inside the entrance. Pulling a felt hat from atop his crown, the elf straightened, barely able to meet Agatha's gaze in the close confines of her tent. "Bad is the day you darken my doorstep, scout," Agatha said with a well-meaning smile. "What brings you here? Has my brother-captain finally reached his wits' end with me?" Redbad took the question seriously, for he was soon shaking his head.

"No, captain, on the contrary. The Captain only wished to have a quiet word with you, is all." Clutching his hat tight, the elf continued. "He said something about having grown ourselves a tail."

Keeping her face passive, Agatha asked, "What kind of tail?"

"The unwelcome kind, ma'am," Redbad replied, all simple innocence. "Should I instruct him to come see you?"

Waving a hand dismissively, Agatha climbed to her feet. The camp chair sighed as her weight left it. "No need," the she-orc said, rubbing at her eyes, before directing them towards Redbad. "Lead me to him, so that I might catch a glimpse of this tail we've somehow grown."

Cato

 

[Cato]

The days had been long and the nights had been longer, and lonelier. A troublesome recipe for a group of mercenaries, doubly so when they weren't getting paid. It was natural for there to be a brief lull in their pay as they were between contracts. They had firmly moved on from brief to a godsdamned long while. Cato had more patience than most his men and that was a problem. There was normal grumbling and then there was grumbling that would see a knife in his back. The captain would very much like to avoid the latter.

Fortunately for the mercenary, a possible solution had presented itself, or so he could only hope. It was also just as likely to potentially get all of them killed if things went sideways. Well, there was nothing sellsword loved more than a true even gamble. His men certainly wouldn't be able to blame him in any case.

He did not have to wait long for Redbad, though he was surprised to find the captain of the second in his wake. "I'm glad to see you're just as bloody miserable as I am." That was about as friendly a greeting as anyone was likely to get at this point. Rather than having the other captain take a seat, Cato got up from his instead. "Best we take a walk."

Cato let his scout guide them from the tent and towards the rear of the camp. The man had been in this job long enough to keep a respectable distance from the two captains.

"How are things with your bunch? I'd say I'm about a cock's hair from getting a new smile," explained Cato, drawing a line from ear to ear as if to emphasize his point.

 

[Agatha]

Trailing Redbad, the second's captain greeted Cato with a nod and a tentative smile. His welcoming words didn't exactly fill her with confidence, but then not much had as of late. "It's good to see you too, Cat. How're things? Falling apart?" Feigning a joviality she didn't really feel, the she-orc followed her brother-captain from his tent, this time towards the westernmost edge of the encampment.

Cato posed a question as they walked, and Agatha pondered on it for all of a heartbeat before responding. "Odds on me meeting an ignoble end are about even, as of this moment in time," she said, painting a smile across her face for all to see. "I'll send word if the situation changes. Or the new captain will, anyway."

She knew full well just how volatile these things could be. Cato did too, she suspected. Why else would he have sent Redbad to fetch her?

Assuming, of course, he had sent Redbad.

Letting her mind play an endless game of catch-and-release with that particular morsel, Agatha followed on as Redbad led them through a camp only halfway settled for the evening. "See your boys are looking cheerful as ever," Agatha commented drily, dipping her head in acknowledgement as a squad of heavies threw salutes her way. The look in their eyes was hard to read, but at least their discipline hadn't crumbled entirely.

Clambering to the top of the marching camp's earthen wall, Agatha dismissed Redbad with a wave. A number of sentries patrolled here and there along the perimeter, their desultory gazes turned to the countryside beyond the makeshift fort's walls.

Placing her hands on her hips, Agatha joined them in their watch.

"Reckon that'll be enough to get them talking," she said, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Cato. "Now, whilst they're wondering what we're up to, maybe you should fill me in on... whatever it is you wanted to share?"

 

[Cato]

"What a pleasant thought," he replied sarcastically, attempting to mask his own anxiety. Things were even worse than he thought if the second was that close to revolt. Those under Agatha's watch were likely the most orderly of the 'Shields, closer to soldiers than sellswords. 'Course that came as no surprise considering their backgrounds. Cato sometimes wished they would loosen up a little but he also knew just how valuable their discipline was on the battlefield. It had saved Cato and his lot more than a few times in the past.

The two of the captains continued on through the camp. He worried that they might be the subject of derision but no one seemed ready to challenge the two leaders just yet. “Not quite sure there’s a sane one among them but they’re what I got.”

Eventually they made it to the edge of their encampment which allowed them some measure of privacy.

“Prefer if they did a little less talking considering their words of late have been rather unkind, but yes-” he sighed once more before pivoting the conversation. “We have a bit of problem that might also serve as a solution. You remember that merchant ‘van we passed a few days ago? They were only about a half-day’s march behind us last we knew. My guess is they were trying to keep pace, use us for some extra security.”

Cato paused, “That didn’t work. RedBad found what was left of them, it was a bloody mess. Whoever it was seems to be keeping an eye on us but from what we can tell, aren’t planning to do much else. Most days I’d consider that a boon, but-”

He let his words hang in the air before clearing his throat and quickly adding, “I’m trying to say that maybe we should make ourselves more, uh, vulnerable.” There was more to be said but Cato wanted to see what his fellow captain had to say first. No doubt she would be able to grasp many of the potential consequences of their current situation and even some that he hadn’t yet thought of.

 

[Agatha]

Shooting Cato a sidelong glance, Agatha carried on with her vigil, oblivious to the looks the two of them were drawing. "More vulnerable," she repeated, mulling over the idea. "We're playing a very dangerous game indeed if you think that's our best course of action." With one hand on her sword's pommel and the other on her hip, the she-orc fought to hide a grimace. If she was right about what Cato intended -and she believed she was- then things were about to get a lot more lively.

"Walk with me, would you?"

Not waiting for a response, the second's captain began making her way along the perimeter at a steady pace. It did one good to stretch their legs from time to time, to breath the open air and marvel at the sights and sounds and smells they experienced. For Agatha, such moments allowed her to think, reminded her -partly- of why she did what she did.

To stew in her tent, stifled by thoughts as dark as the heart beating in her chest, would have been... well, it would have been tantamount to suicide.

She was no coward. She wasn't just going to roll over and die simply because times had grown tough. She was going to fight this- to the end, if needs be. Better to go down swinging. And if she survived, well, then there would be nothing stopping her from reaching the glory she so desperately sought.

If she survived.

"The merchant 'van that Redbad found, I assume he reported their goods stolen... along with their pack animals, no doubt?" She fell silent, listening for a reply. "'Twould be a shame to leave such valuable items in the hands of common murderers," she mused. "Worse, to let the brigands go unpunished for their crimes would be to go against all that is righteous in this world."

Smiling, Agatha gave Cato a devilish wink. It was a load of bunkum, playing the hero, but she couldn't help herself.

"I think I get what you're hinting at, and while I don't wholly agree with the idea, I understand that we don't really have much of a choice in the matter." Stopping in her tracks, Agatha turned her golden eyes to Cato, a sorry smile on her face. "All right, then. Find a way to make us look more vulnerable. Once that's done, we'll see about nabbing some of the bastards who hit that caravan. Make 'em talk, and maybe they'll lead us to pay dirt."

She sighed, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

"The things we do to keep our boys happy, eh?"

Cato

 

[Cato]

Cato almost winced as the other captain echoed his words. Hearing it from someone else made him sound like an idiot. He knew the idea was near insane but the mercenary was out of ideas. Better to die by the blade of some other bastard than his own subordinate. The fact that Agatha hadn't simply told him to fuck off was a sign of how bad things really were. Cato wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse. He decided it was better not to think about it any longer. He simply took a look around and then followed after his peer.

"Well, I didn't ask for specifics but Redbad has always been thorough," the mercenary captain replied vaguely. He suspected that his lead scout had intentionally omitted some details and Cato didn't think it wise to push. Best to let it lie considering the current state of affairs. "Only natural for us to see to our civic duty and bring these criminals to justice." He liked to think that mercenaries didn't hide behind such hypocrisies but he knew he was no different from any other bastard.

"Yeah, it's complete shit but like you said, ain't got much of a choice." The mercenary captain sighed and added, "Shouldn't be too hard to do that. Gods only know they're sleeping on watch already." He mulled over anything he might have missed but this was just one big gamble at this point. "Your boys might need to be ready for a fight, but without knowing it..."

He began to walk away, intent on getting this over as soon as possible. Cato tossed a lazy wave and added, "Responsibility really is for the dogs."

 

[Agatha]

Smiling wanly, Agatha watched Cato's back as he receded into the night. For all his supposed indifference, Agatha could tell the burden of command was weighing on him. She could feel it dragging her down, too. Best do something about it, then. Strolling back to her tent, the captain was pleased to find her aide already waiting for her. "I was just thinking about you," she greeted the dwarf as he turned to her, a slow smile splitting his cragged features. "Evening, Toki."

"Evenin', captain."

Stopping by the tent flap, Agatha gave Toki a steady look. One of the company's oldest veterans, Toki never seemed to change. Barrel-chested, broad-shouldered, with a beard that reached all the way down to his belt buckle, the dwarf was something of a legend among the ranks. Indeed, if the scars criss-crossing his leathery skin were anything to go by, he had lived a storied life. One full of blood and battle-rage, no doubt.

"Anything new to report?" Agatha asked him, pushing aside her memories to focus on the present. "Nothing you need worry yerself about," Toki replied, waving his right hand dismissively. The thumb and forefinger were missing an inch between them; another story there, Agatha supposed. "I assume you want something from me?" Nodding, Agatha grasped the dwarf's shoulder, gestured him inside. "As a matter of fact, I do," she said, stepping into her pavilion-sized tent a moment behind Toki.

"I need you to gather up my officers and send them to me, if you would be so kind. The sooner the better."

Walking over to her desk, Agatha took a seat in her favourite camping chair. Toki remained standing by the central support, never one to rest whilst there was work to be done. "Somethin' evil this way comes, huh?" The dwarf surmised. Sharing his smile, Agatha nodded. "Something like that," she confessed, knowing full well he could keep a secret. You didn't become the captain's aide by being a tattletale, after all. "You'll hear the details soon enough. For now, be a gent and do as I have asked."

Bowing his head, Toki exited the tent with the look of a man who knew the meaning and value of haste.

Considering his favourite captain's neck was on the chopping block, Agatha could understand why.

Cato

 

[Cato]

He watched as his fellow captain set off on her own business and Cato moved to deal with his own. The night was soon to set upon them which meant that the mercenary captain still had much work to do. Cato heard the grumbles of his brothers and sisters but merely ignored them as he returned to his tent. They were like to shiv any person that passed but their captain had earned a little more than that. Not much more, but enough to see Cato through the night.

Cato gave his orders and watched as they were reluctantly carried out. Death would have likely welcomed him instead if it was but a day later. Most captains would have considered themselves lucky but Cato was just annoyed. Best they just shived him a week ago instead of giving him hope.

Orders came down for most to move camp. Rumbles came and only a few 'Shields remained to watch the rear. This had normally been the duty of the First but they weren't here. He could only imagine what sort of mayhem would have transpired if they were present. It was more than likely that Cato would have been butchered just like a common sheep for chops.

Time passed and most of the Blackshields had moved along. A select few remained encamped, stragglers who had forgotten all decorum. Cato, captain of the Third could be counted among them. His plan would have been flawless if only their foes hadn't been exceptionally greedy. Cato had hoped to bait a pair of scouts and capture at least one of them.

Bloody she-orc best not got too far

 

[Agatha]

Breaking camp, Agatha rode out at the head of her cohort, one of a dozen hog riders to do so. Behind her, their footsteps loud in the cool pre-dawn air, the men and women of the Second made to follow. Orders had been passed down. Preparations made. Nobody was surprised by the news they received that morning; that they were to ready themselves for another day's long march was to be expected at this point. All they did these days was march and rest, march and rest.

No fighting.

No drinking.

Hell, there wasn't even anything to screw.

Agatha could feel the anger and bitterness and sheer, bone-tiredness with which the men carried out their orders. These were warriors that had been numbed by the miles. They were still getting paid of course -the war chests were still relatively full from their previous employment- but with nothing to spend their coin on, the 'Shields were growing bored. And the blisters and saddle sores they accrued as the day wore on only added to their irritability.

All they saw was another day of aimless walking, Agatha knew. Nothing to get excited about. Another day of the same ol' nothingness.

Only today would be different. It had to be different.

Leaving Cato back at camp hadn't been easy. With a mutiny brewing amongst their own, she didn't see leaving the captain behind as the smartest move to make. But he had made his choice; they needed bait, and what could be more tempting to a bunch of murdering thieves than the captain of an influential mercenary cohort and a chest full of Imperial crowns?

So he had stayed, and Agatha, true to her word, had made off with the rest of their ragged band. Most of the men to leave had been her own. A few had remained at the camp with Cato. Though they made out that their moods were desultory, downcast, those men were some of the few Loyalists remaining to her. She was loathe to lose them, but Agatha knew if this was to work, she would have to take risks. Leaving such men to safeguard the camp -and in particular Cato- had been one sacrifice she was willing to make.

God's willing, she wouldn't have to make too many more before the day was through.

With her travelling cloak and a fine shirt of mail to warm her, Agatha led the Second North by North-East, through forested woodland and over swiftly-flowing brooks. Game spread from their line of march like swarms of locusts, the rumbling footfalls of her heavies sounding eerily like the stampede of a thousand mounted warriors bearing down on them.

Closing her eyes, the she-orc's mind travelled back to the great grasslands of the Taagi Baara. Few were the days where she would choose to return there willingly.

Incurring the wrath of the horselords was never wise. Trespassing on their land was a quick way to find yourself winding up in an early grave. Not that they would bury you. The bastards had always favoured leaving mercenaries like her to the carrion eaters. Vultures feasting upon vultures, the saying went.

Agatha opened her eyes.

"Can I help you, Redbad?" She asked the veteran scout, keeping her eyes on the trees and what lurked beneath them. Though she hadn't heard the scout coming, she knew he hadn't meant to sneak up on her. That was the trouble with being too good at your job, Agatha figured. Wresting his felt cap from his head like a peasant in the presence of his Lord, Redbad dipped his head, aye.

"Thought you might want to know..." he began, his voice falling to a conspiratorial whisper, "our tail, the one you told me to keep an eye on? Well, it just grew a damn sight shorter."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they were watching us, waiting for us to pass, and now that we have..."

"The fun begins." Taking a fistful of bristly hair in hand, Agatha pulled her hog to a stop. The beast snorted indignantly, its tail flicking to swat at the horseflies as they gathered on its flanks. Nodding to Redbad, Agatha turned to her escort. "Call for the cohort to halt," she instructed the nearest rider, her eyes awash with fire. "You! Yes, you. Send word to the officers, tell them 'the time has come'. They'll know what it means. The rest of you, you're coming with me back to camp. Trouble's come a-knockin'"

 

[Cato]

A rustle of leaves, followed by a dull thud was the only warning Cato got. The captain looked to his side to find Kayl clawing miserably at the crossbow bolt now lodged in his throat. He immediately summoned a wall of telekinetic energy just as a hail of projectiles crashed into it. Would've been skewered seven different ways if he had been even a moment late.

"Trouble's found us, lads! I'll flay any bastard that dies easy!" The mercenary captain wasn't very good with words. A few curses were levied at him but his comrades were roused. Though he suspected that was more due to their savage natures. They now had foes upon which they could vent their frustrations. Too many foes, if Cato was being completely honest.

"Seven fucking hells," he swore as shadows materialized from the brush to reveal the 'Shields many enemies. Cato was somewhat surprised that there was no second volley but it made sense. It had no been long since they raided that merchant caravan, they'd have little time to fletch more. They seemed intent on overrunning the mercenaries with sheer numbers.

Steel replaced silence, a frantic melee ensued.

Cato raked his hand across the air and a wall of dirt splayed across his oncoming attackers. The mercenary's free hand quickly found his second blade and he charged in with confidence. A quick flurry of slashes was enough to drop the first three fools but the others had recovered by then. He stumbled backwards as he fought off a pair of particular ugly looking bastards. Sheer pettiness fueled the mercenary captain's counterattack, deftly parrying each strike that came his way. He landed a number of shallow strikes, eventually giving Cato the opening he required.

The telltale twang of a bow sent the mercenary immediately sprawling to the ground. Pain instantly lanced up his left shoulder, a rude notice that he had not completely dodged the arrow. It appeared his early theory was not entirely accurate.

"Bloody fletchers," he spat.

Gods, Agatha was never going to let him live this down.

 

[Agatha]

The sounds of battle made it back to them through the trees. The clash of steel. The screams of dying men. Angry men. Shouting and hollering and barked orders. Leading her hog riders out from the shadows and into the open, Agatha of the Blackshields was quick to rein in her mount as her eyes took in the scene laid bare before them. "Oh, fuck me..." She cursed in surprise, her attention catching on the people running to-and-fro across the plains surrounding the camp.

So many people...

"How many of the bastards are there?" One of her bodyguard asked, palming a bolt he had intended to slot into his stockbow before he had become distracted. Fifty that we can see, Agatha thought, slipping her tulwar free, and fifty more that we can't. "There's got to be hundreds of the buggers," another vouched, shaking his head as the colour drained from his face. "Where in the seven hells did they all come from?"

"Doesn't matter where they came from, Wineskin," Agatha replied, sensing her hog's anxiety as it shifted beneath her. Turning to address her men, she watched as dozens of Cato's horsemen poured from the treeline to either side. Lances in hand, the mounted warriors looked on in anger as the bandits tried to make free with their camp, their comrades. "It doesn't matter which of the seven hells they came from," the she-orc pressed on, "because we'll be sending them back there soon enough."

A loud crash reverberated from the camp. The shouting and screaming grew more intense. No doubt, somewhere not too far away, the Blackshield Infantrymen were quickening their pace. The Second had always been keen scrappers. To miss out on one...

"Captain!" Tensing her leg muscles, Agatha turned her hog to face the leader of Cato's horsemen as he rode to join her. "Decurion," she greeted the man, a human in his mid-thirties if she had to guess. One of Cato's boys, Agatha didn't know his name. What she did know, however, was that she didn't have the time to find out. "Take your men and secure the perimeter. Ride down anyone you find. I don't care if you kill or capture the bastards, but make sure no-one and I mean no-one escapes. Am I understood?"

The more they dealt with now, the less they would have to deal with later. Plus she didn't want them moving camp. Not before she had relieved them of a small fortune in stolen goods, anyway.

"Aye, Captain." The Decurion replied tersely. "I understand."

"Then let's get to it!" Nodding to the horseman, Agatha turned her hog to face the camp once more. The Decurion summoned his deputies as the she-orc captain rode forward, held up her hand. The hog riders around her stopped what they were doing and began to watch her with rapt attention.

Keeping her index and little fingers raised, Agatha let the others fall as she signed to her men. Airing their blades and loading their stockbows, the gathered warriors murmured their understanding. "On me!" Agatha instructed, digging her heels in.

With a happy squeal, her hog barrelled forwards, breaking first into a canter, then a full-on run as its rider directed it towards the camp. Towards the fighting. Towards the blood-and-piss stench of dying men. Here we go, Agatha thought, holding her tulwar low against her pig's right flank. Her hog riders fanned out to either side of her in an arrowhead formation, long practise and experience allowing them to handle the speed and distance with ease.

Ahead of them, the first bandits slewed into view, their bloodied faces eager and wild.

Until they saw her.

"Blackshields!" Agatha chanted, her warriors taking up the call as they hammered home.

 

[Cato]

Cato rolled, pulling a dagger from his boot as he came to his feet. The mercenary let the blade fly in the general direction of the archer. He cursed as his blade tore apart some helpless leaves but nothing else. There was nothing more dangerous on the battlefield than an unseen bow. How many tough bastards had he seen fall to a simple arrow? An ignominious end to those who made a living with a blade. Cato sure as hell had no intention of being one of those sorry cunts.

The mercenary captain charged towards the treeline with little regard for anything else that was going on. A pair of bandits took umbrage to his decision, attempting to cut him off. Cato's eyes glowed a dull-blue as telekinetic energy surged through his body. Magic poured forth in a turbulent wave, crashing into the two attackers. He did not bother to look whether the spell had been effective, and continued his charge instead.

Another arrow raced out of the darkness but this time Cato was ready for it. He batted the projectile aside in his stride and quickly closed the remaining distance. The mercenary captain didn't take any chances and launched himself at the shadowed figure in the brush. His opponent cried out as the two crashed unceremoniously to the forest floor. Cato's fist lashed out and caught the archer in the face. The captain followed up by driving his blade into the man's clavicle. Cato took a moment to watch the bandit's dying breaths.

He slowly got to his feet, taking a moment to catch his breath as he stepped back into the clearing. Unfortunately he was not the only person breathing in the immediate vicinity, far from it. Cato's single-minded desire to kill that fucking archer had gotten him surrounded. The mercenary captain wore a feral grin as the noose tightened.

"Blackshields!"

Cavalry came into view and Cato allowed himself a moment of relief as bandits scattered, but not all.

There was still knifework that needed doing.

Agatha

 

[Agatha]

The first man died without knowing it. He was shouting orders to his fellows, pointing and hollering like a general drunk on victory when Agatha's blade found him. A clean cut, it caught him square on the back of his shaven skull. Words died quick when you had a full foot of steel for a tongue. "Blackshields!" Agatha shouted over the din, leaning out of her saddle to carve the next man from his hip to his breastbone. "Blackshields!"

Thundering on, the hog riders hacked and slashed their way through a mass of swarming, terrified faces. Blood splashed across Agatha's arm, red on green. When the civilised world saw you as a savage greenskin, it was okay to get a little savage. And so she was as the skirmish wore on. It was hard to say how many men she killed in that initial charge alone. Four, maybe? Possibly more. It was hard to count when someone was trying to kill you back.

When her band reached the other side of the camp, Agatha took a moment to assess the situation. All of her riders had made it through. Wineskin was still pale, but unlike before, his ashen face was now flecked with blood. Red. Like his namesake. Brutus was riding high in his saddle, smiling to himself like only a fool could. The man had never been pretty. The smile made his face a thing of horrors.

The others - Brown Jack, Steppe the younger, Steppe the older, all of them- looked fine.

Agatha looked to the camp. Swore. "With me now, lads!" She shouted to her people, signalling with her free hand to those who couldn't hear her. Wheeling the band around, the Captain led them along the outside of the camp. Though they had made a decent dent on their first run, there were still plenty of bandits running amok through the camp, looting what they could, when they could. Not that there was much to find.

They had moved the pay-chests during the night. One of her officer's designs, that. She owed the man a raise.

Sticking to the open ground, Agatha kept the momentum going, her hog doing most of the work for her. Normally, when faced by an over-sized pig with tusks that could tear you from nuts to navel, it was common for men to scatter and flee. On occasion you would run into the some bastard with more balls than brains. They could be trouble, those types, but most of the time they were just dead. Most of the time.

Not this time.

Agatha didn't see him until his halberd was raking her side. He had meant to put it through her gut, she suspected, but a stockbow bolt to the bridge of his nose had thrown his aim somewhat. Not enough for him to miss though. Not entirely.

Grabbing her side, Agatha growled as the pain arched through her. A bad sign, to be sure, but not the worst. At least she could still feel pain. Had halberd-prick's aim been a few inches truer, it was likely she wouldn't be feeling anything at all. "You okay?!" Brutus yelled, thundering along to her right. He was still smiling that stupid smile. No doubt he was pleased by the sight of her bleeding. If she died here, he would be one of the first to put his name forward for the captaincy, Agatha knew.

"Get fucked!" The she-orc yelled back. Brutus's smile widened.

 

[Cato]

Cato's blade split open the the face of some sorry bastard. An improvement, if the mercenary captain was being honest. The battle was chaotic before but now they had a proper scrap on their hands. It was the sort of organized pandemonium that the 'Shields, the Third in particular, thrived on. Their captain embodied that very notion as he ducked in and out of combat. Reinforcements had been nice but it could get a bit dangerous with all them hogs around. Last thing he wanted was to be skewered by one of their own.

"Yer still alive?" came the disappointed question from his side. Honestly it could have come from any of his lads and the captain wouldn't have been surprised. Sellswords could be a stupidly ambitious bunch even in the best of times.

"Your concern warms me right down to my balls, Mud," the mercenary captain replied. Cato wasn't about to lose his place to a man who thought mortar was nothing more than mud. Apparently his father had been a damned good mason but that carriage had ridden right past his son. "There's still work to do, quit fucking about."

The other mercenary grunted a laugh and then both men put steel to work. Eventually the bandit's numbers began to thin and the clearing was completely controlled by the Blackshields. It certainly had not come easy. Cato bled from his shoulder and his side, not to mention a number of other smaller cuts. He moved gingerly as he spotted a familiar figure who also had not come out entirely unscathed.

"Best we ignore any suggestions I have from here on," Cato admitted with a very real wince.

Agatha

 

[Agatha]

The fight was done as soon as the infantry started swarming into camp. Faced by a wave of armoured bodies baring steel, the bandits either threw down their weapons or died bloody. Most chose the former. Some didn't. Before long the 'Shields had corralled all the survivors into one big group. Spearpoints gleamed in the sunlight, a threat to anyone thinking of making a break for it.

Dismounting her hog, Agatha took a seat on top of one of the heavy-looking chests they had used as bait. The locks had been broken off during the fighting, but that was nothing to worry about. The chest was empty, after all. Nothing to take. nothing to lose, the she-orc mused, pressing a hand to her side. The only thing the 'Shields had lost during the fighting was men. Not many, but enough to make her wonder if the risk would be worth it in the end.

"Do you require assistance. Or would you rather I left you to bleed?"

Ignoring her sorrows if but for a moment, Agatha looked up to find a familiar face staring down at her. "I'd rather you didn't ask fool-ass questions, Mender," she greeted the second cohort's lead physician with a nod. Grinning happily to herself, the half-orc cleric dropped her kit bag by Agatha's side, then took a knee in front of her. "I see getting yourself poked in the gut by the business end of a halberd hasn't robbed you of your temper," Mender chuckled, taking a closer look at the wound with the same level of care she expected from all her orderlies.

"Yeah," Agatha replied, "and I see you're still surprisingly well-informed for someone who only just got here."

"Blame Wineskin," Mender said, nodding over her shoulder. "You know how he gets after a scrap. Once the adrenaline starts wearing off, there's little a woman can do to stop him from talking 'sides smacking him in the mouth. From the way he was blabbering on and on about you getting stuck, you woulda thought he was the one doing the damned sticking."

Gazing across at Wineskin, the Captain gave a noncommittal grunt.

"I should have known," she said, knowing Mender's words to be true. "What of Toki?"

"What about him?"

"Has he made it back to camp yet or did he stay with the wagons?"

"Uh, last I saw him he was still back with the wagons." Mender's eyes grew curious. "Why?" No reason, Agatha thought, grimacing as the physician did something to her wound. Toki had likely gone to recover the pay-chests whilst everyone else was still too busy to notice. Sly devil. Turning at the sound of approaching footsteps, Agatha tilted her head back in the age-old 'what's up' as Cato came to stand close by. The man looked like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.

"Probably best, aye," the orc agreed, happy to see the Captain despite everything that had happened. "The boys started in on the prisoners yet?"

Cato

 

[Cato]

A pitched scream saved Cato the need to answer.

"We'll have what we need soon enough," the mercenary captain replied with a shrug. There was a certain art to getting information out of folk and the Third happened to be the best at it. Cato couldn't claim any great skill when it came to interrogation but the same couldn't be said for his men. He had left Nails to the job and was sure she would get it done. Best that they were far away from whatever was going on right now. It was sure to be a bloody mess.

The mercenary looked at his peer's wounds and then down at his own. "Seems you had yourself an argument with a bit of steel." Cato had certainly done himself a bit of the same. He could tell from the she-orc's wound that it had been close to being something you don't come back from. A pang of guilt struck the mercenary. Death was their business but Cato did not relish command. High lords may have enjoyed sending people to their demise but that was not Cato. The Second and Third had both suffered casualties, this was not lost on the captain.

A few yells drew his attention to his men rounding up the rest of the prisoners. "We can't manage all these extra bodies..."

Agatha

 

[Agatha]

"Seems I did," Agatha replied shortly, shooting her brother-captain a reassuring smile as she fought against the pain gripping her stomach and side. "You did too, if all those cuts are anything to go by," she continued, probing Cato's wounds gently with her finger. "Earn a few more scars like these and maybe you'll start to look like a proper mercenary."

Grinning, Agatha tried her best to ignore the screams of the captured bandits as, one by one, they were put to the question. A number of those still waiting their turn were being herded into the middle of the camp to await trial, as Nails liked to put it. The mercenaries set to guard them began stripping them of arms, armour and any valuables they might be secreting upon their persons. A foolish thing to try, that.

Those boys catch the slightest whiff of coin and they'll be on it like flies on shit, Agatha thought with a wry smile.

"We can't manage all these extra bodies..."

Nodding, Agatha let her smile fade as she took in Cato's words. In truth, they could have handled the prisoners with ease if they set their minds to it. It was the should giving her brother-captain pause, however. Watching over them would require bodies of their own, men they couldn't afford to spare in the long- and short term. 'Not to mention, taking prisoners would only slow them down.

And they had themselves a proverbial goldmine in need of liberating.

"Aye, we can't" Agatha agreed, feeling a cool palm press against her skin as Mender started muttering an incantation. The first of many healing spells she would cast today, Agatha reckoned. "It grieves me to say it," she lied, "but we can't risk letting them go, not with their camp so close at hand. First thing they'll do is scarper back there and warn their buddies we're coming. By the time we reach their hideout, they'll have upped stakes..."

And all of this will have been for naught, Agatha thought, picturing in her mind's eye the dead Blackshields lying neatly in a row not two dozen paces to her rear, their weapons placed across their chests while their friends mourned over them. No doubt a few of those wounded souls would wonder why this fight had come to pass. A few of them might even figure it out soon enough.

The wounds of the flesh healed, Agatha let Mender pull her to her feet. The guilt followed her up, but she could deal with that easily enough. She had done it before, after all. "Looks to me like there's only one thing left for us to do..."

Cato

 

[Cato]

"It was a proper scrap," Cato agreed with a wince. "Also fuck off." He was older than the other captain but both of them had been in the business their entire lives. They'd die in this job too, a quiet death was not in their future. Cato had long since realized he would never make enough coin to get out. One also had to be alive to spend it. Luck and some skill had seen him this far but was bound to run out.

He listened to his comrade's forced reasoning and sympathized. Had to be able to close your eyes at night. Half-hearted justifications were a mercenary's game. Even the most cynical of sellswords could not completely avoid the hypocrisy that they so despised. Their moral flexibility was simply a convenient excuse.

"Marker, grab a few hands. Got loose ends to tie," Cato ordered coldly. The company sergeant didn't even hesitate to give out the order. Wily bastard had been in this business longer than most. Cato doubted anything could make the old mercenary blink. Prisoners had been searched and lined up at this point. Those that guarded saw their captains approaching and dropped the prisoners to their knees.

Some pleaded, others cursed. Their fate was the same in the end. Nails would find Cato cleaning his blade shortly after. She took a glance at the corpses but said nothing otherwise. "Cap'n, good and bad. Got you a location. Sounds like they got a fair bit of a loot too. Guess they've been at it for a bit." Cato was hearing too much good news and that worried him. Nails suddenly became guarded, eyes darting around to make sure they weren't overhead. "Seems this was most of their men, so there's only a skeleton crew back at camp." She paused again. "Turns out a few of the bastards are connected. Local nobility or some such. Got their grubby fingers in all manner of degeneracy."

Cato looked at Agatha. "Shit."

"Get's better," Nails continued. "Three of them are family. That one, that one, and that one to be exact," she explained, pointing at each of the corpses in order.

The mercenary captain didn't even bother to curse this time. Nails recognized that her part was done and shuffled off to see the spoils with the others.

"Nothing for it then?" he offered. Cato figured they were fucked both ways, might as well get paid. That being said, he was now deeply questioning his own judgement. Best to let his fellow captain make the call on this one.

Agatha

 

[Agatha]

"Not unless you've got any more bright ideas..." Agatha replied with a look and a smile. So far as she was concerned, this was just another bump in the road that needed stepping over. What's done is done. There was no point regretting decisions long since made. No harm in shitting your britches when you were in it up to your waist, either.

Placing a reassuring hand on Cato's shoulder, the she-orc turned her eyes to the recently deceased. Most of the time, the 'Shields left those they had slain to rot. And unless Cato was feeling concerningly generous, they would do so again today. "Whoever they are connected to can't have cared much for them, to send them out on a job like this," Agatha reasoned, picking out the three family members where they lay in the dirt, diminished by death though looking no worse for wear, all things considered.

Least their deaths were clean, Agatha thought, blinking against the sun as it broke through the cloud above. She doubted the person pulling the strings would see it in the same light as her, though. Chances were they would rant and rave and slam their fist down in anger upon receiving news that their dear, sweet thieving family had been reduced by three. But who gave a fuck, really?

Agatha didn't. Nor should Cato for that matter.

"If disappearing the bodies will put your mind at ease, just let me know," she said, letting go of his shoulder as she gestured Brutus over. The big orc warrior didn't seem pleased to see her fully recovered. Perhaps he mourned the fact he could no longer take the opportunity to climb the ladder and claim his rightful place at the top. Not without taking a knife to her himself, anyway. "I've got two dozen pigs who never seem to stop eating, and a willing volunteer to make sure the job gets done properly." She smiled, ignoring Brutus's disgusted snarl.

"By the time whoever-the-fuck-knows realizes they're dead and not just missing, we'll have hit the camp, grabbed the loot and gone on our merry way." She paused, her gaze softening as her eyes found Cato's. She knew her cocksure way of approaching matters of life and death didn't always sit well with her brother-captains. But what else was there to do? "Assuming you're still with me on this one?"

Cato

 

[Cato]

"Leave em to the worms," responded Cato with a shrug. The captain realized just how close they were to edge if his anxiety showed so clearly. He knew that regret didn't buy you anything in this business. 'Course it was best to avoid powerful folk if possible but there was nothing for it now. They would just need to grab the loot and make themselves scare. He doubted some local noble was going to hunt them across the continent. Agatha's reasoning was sound but Cato knew that noble's hated losing face more than anything. They'd curse these bastards one day and then profess deep familial bonds the next if it suited their purpose.

"Think I'd leave your lot to the spoils after all this?" the captain replied with mock incredulity. "No, let's get this bloody thing done."

He tossed one last glance at the corpses before heading back to the rest of his squad. Many had been injured but only a handful had bought the farm. Cato considered that a small miracle considering how hectic the battle was. The captain ordered the most heavily hurt to remain behind but with a mind to leave at a moment's notice. No point in having them slow things down. They'd hit the camp hard and fast, then disappear. Counting coins could come later.

Cato checked his weapons and armor once more. The mercenary wasn't entirely unscathed himself but he was better off than most. Preparations were made, it was time to get to work.

"Ready to get rich?" Cato quipped as he strolled up to his fellow captain. 'Less poor' would've been more accurate but that didn't exactly get the blood boiling.

Agatha