Deluve's Waif E-Book

Indy Patterson

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

“They shun you like a monster, but I see a champion; a force to be reckoned with. They are zealous, brutal, and without compassion, but you will be worse.” 

Dredt had to fight. Years as a hermit and bandit on the run led up to his enrollment in a mercenary corps, and he's going to end up regretting it more than anything else. The land is scarred, war-ravaged, breaking at the seams, and he signed up to push it to its limits. Armies will crumble, towns will burn, the trees will weep in sadness at the bloodshed between brothers, and Dolsa will face centuries of war.

But what will become truth and what will become legend?

Deluve's Waif is a dark fantasy story about the unflinching luck of life. It is set roughly four centuries before the other book in the Karaask Chronicles, The Eroded Knight, but is its own standalone story. These are the myths of old that are told to frighten kids to sleep. The ones that remain tales because the alternative is too grim to bare... 

Leseprobe

Indy Patterson

Deluve's Waif

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Deluve’s Waif

“They shun you like a monster, but I see a champion; a force to be reckoned with. They are zealous, brutal, and without compassion, but you will be worse.” 

By Indy Patterson

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental

Dedication

Deluve’s Waif is a project I never truly expected to turn into what it is today, but it is time for me to thank those who made this project a reality. The two most vital, entertaining, and helpful people in my life. First up is my editor and writing colleague, and friend, Levens. Seriously, they keep me from writing too many derivative self-indulgent stories that show off how much of a perverted chump my creative headspace can be sometimes. Following up my editor is another friend, Tazy. Tazy helped me with naming one very important character and drew the protagonists months before this story was even finished. Without their efforts in tandem with my editor’s, I would doubt that I would even be able to write each day. I love these two people with every fibre of my being and wish them all the luck and success that all people as wonderful as them deserve.

The next few I want to thank are the influences on me and my writing in general. Peter V. Brett will always remain my writing hero and Brian McCellan is not far behind. Please check out The Warded Man and Promise of Blood from them respectively. And last but certainly not least: you. To all of my draft readers, friends, and casual victims of my rants alike: thank you.

Prologue

There was a time that’s now known by all:

Where Dolsa was still a young but eager nation.

Still learning of the Famiarian Brutes and Khavi Balls,

But trouble was brewing and ruin eventually follows creation

  The land was ruled by High King Gerhart:

Who was wise but let his mind get the best of him.

False security would be his downfall, but we’ll get to that,

We still need to introduce all that follows the sum dim

Now, you remember the beliefs under the king.

Deluve was small and the Old Gods pulled with awe:

Neither supported by the crown and both left each other bleeding.

But the coming tremors and conflict none could foresee

The story starts with a child, but so does everything.

His true name has been lost to the fires and burial mounds.

Since every tale needs a name, “White-Hair” is our monster to sing.

A land ripe for chaos, one ready to be no longer sound.

Now White-Hair was born, 

Raised surrounded by the ways of old.

His ash-pale strands considered,

A sickness at best and at worst an omen:

A suspicion that still thrives to this day.

Stares cruel and cold

White-Hair from birth was destined;

Fated to make his own ruin.

Fled his home still early with age,

To seek the comfort of the trees.

No one knows why, 

But a knife’s scar leaves many theories. 

Experienced with age, 

White-Hair joined old Seeds:

A mercenary group well-known.

With skills just ripe for the job,

He killed and stayed quiet.

Collecting his coin apart of the creed

The day before a fateful battle, he met a witch,

But not one of a bog.

Old Gods by blood, 

Her actions in tandem with his would shape history.

A gruesome battle it was,

But a curse left White-Hair a beast in a fury fog

White-Hair was ruined;

A monster of misery.

He killed with rage and

Wandered the land.

But the witch was not done:

Her personal mystery unreined

Through magic, coin, or persuasion, 

He was to hers like a brand.

Revenge was the carcass she wanted; 

Wanted to rip and tear from.

Gerhart may have not deserved fame, 

But never a fate so grand

Dolsa thundered with protest;

Bodies fell like the beat of a drum.

The royals gathered in haste but,

White-Hair and the witch joined unseen.

Never trust a Kleider they say:

As their blood had let in the Old Gods scum

A soul lost his crown,

Their gaze fell heavy to a floor bloodied.

White-Hair ripped them anew

His cursed claws eating.

And with no one to lead,

The Warring period convened

Chapter One: The Boy Who Went Forth To Outrun Fear

All Dredt could smell was the stench of death.

The motion of cleaning his curved short sword had become a thoughtless action. Each drag of the rag, bloodied and blotched with mud to a point it was impossible to tell what original color it was, cleaned barely a noticeable amount of blood and gore off of the steel. Stopping for a second, he tilted the blade's face toward his own and looked down into it. A pair of dark, muddy green eyes looked back at him with a gaze of mutual weariness that he had no answers for. His hair was a messy rats' nest of short and cut ashen white with flakes of mud peppering the strands. Twenty-eight winters of trials behind the eyes that he could no longer bear to look into.

Keeping his eyes down to the mud, he resumed cleaning his blade. His hands ached with fatigue that only came from chopping through leather, metal, wood, skin, and skull all day. It wasn't just his hands that were tired; his whole body ached with hurt and yelled at him to rest. 

Battles were also so disorienting and coming out of them made everything feel wrong and strange. He checked his left hand and the scar still remained. Silently, he wondered why he had expected the vertical line of mended flesh to suddenly be gone. During the fight it was the only time where it seemed to cease to exist for him. Going through the motions, he drew the knife from the sheath attached to his leather uniform. He checked both sides before planting it back away snugly. There wasn't a single drop of blood or mud on the serrated knife: a welcomed sign. A clean blade like that meant it didn't get to a point where it was needed.

Dredt heard shouts from around him and he lifted his head to take a look around; he was surrounded by bodies. Fighters, men and women, potential husbands and wives, all strewn with their last moments captured for the world of the living to see. Whoever they were in life didn’t matter anymore, just another body to throw onto the pyre. Each corpse was its own flavor of gruesome; each a special appeal. His eyes lingered on one man whose head had been cut clean from their shoulders and later shoved underneath their arms as a joke. 

None of it seemed to want to make him vomit or heave out his lungs until they burned like a raging sun; it was only an empty feeling to him. He was no stranger to death no matter the flair or circumstances to it. All death is just that: death. A creeping feeling told him that he would never be able to forget the day but it came and went with its mark permanent. 

Deciding he'd already sat for too long, Dredt sheathed his falcata and pulled his wooden shield out of the mud with a wet sound, before standing up to face the murky infinite blue. The clearing had been scarred with mercenary bodies, discarded weapons, slain horses, and muddied soil. Trees around the clearing seemed to contain all of the bloodshed and made the conflict seem smaller than it actually was. 

“This is gonna be one for the annals for sure,” A voice behind Dredt spoke.

Dredt turned to see another mercenary walking towards him. The man looked built for war; morningstar mace lowered in his left hand and a bloodied shield on his right. He wore the same armor and uniform as Dredt as per corps regulation but broke away from that obedience with a flush blonde mustache above his lip. Uniforms were simple for the corps: light leather vests dyed grey with green outlines on top of chainmail.

“Surprised to see you still in one piece, Jack,” Dredt commented.

Jack threw his shield over his back and gave Dredt a friendly clap on the back with his free hand. “You know damn well that it isn’t my fate to die in the mud.”

Dredt’s mind wandered back to the carnage around him but it was just a dull sensation that only robbed of him response. The corpses were merely just things for his eyes to travel over, but sounds of screaming and the rush of adrenaline only hours before poured into his mind like a dam breaking under the buildup from a raging flood. Only the crack of thunder from the gloomy ceiling above broke the trance.

“You still with me, pal?” Jack asked with their lighthearted tone gone and replaced with a partially concerned one.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little… tired, I guess,” Dredt answered unconvincingly.

Jack seemed pleased enough with the answer. “Probably need some ale in you and a good rest. Come on, let the servants deal with the battlefield. We have a date with a nice paycheck, some accounting with an annal keeper, and then we’re home free.”

“Home free until our next job you mean,” Dredt reminded him.

Jack threw an arm around his comrade, which was slightly easier thanks to Dredt being a tad shorter and leaner than him. “Pfft. The job never goes away and I’m sure you’d get bored to death without it. If it wasn’t for me, all you’d think about is the next job and would lose out on all of the fun of the corps. Drink, fuck, have some good laughs. At least do it for me if not for the insufferable bunch you fight side-by-side with.”

Dredt let himself be directed back towards the southern side of the clearing. “I signed up with the Grimm Seeds to make some coin just like the rest of us; if I wanted to be all social I’d find a line of work that doesn’t involve being someone’s dog. Maybe I should grow my hair out and start walking on all fours to go along with the barking. You think I can get a leash to pull it LL off?”

Jack stared at Dredt for a second before breaking out in a laugh. He looked with bewilderment before he couldn’t help it himself and joined his comrade in good humor. Even in the laughs, his eyes scanned the treelines and through the wooden mazes. Deployed on the southern side just at the edge of the tree line was a camp. Green banners characterized by the design of a dead and dry tree stood planted around the perimeter of the camp. Around 1000 troops were scattered across the camp, most recovered after the engagement but a few screams of the wounded could be heard.

The two walked through tent circles and past a medical pavilion. Those strewn across cots weren’t so lucky to fall in battle or come out mostly unscathed. Dredt’s eyes briefly saw a nurse working with grave haste to bandage a gruesome shoulder wound. It was as if a hound had ripped into the flesh and pulled out with sadistic glee. Upon the wound being dabbed with a rag, the soldier’s eyes seemed close to rolling back into her head. He turned his gaze away and continued walking with Jack, soon arriving at a larger round tent with flags flying at the entrance. 

Jack nodded at the two soldiers deployed to guard and pushed a tent flap aside and they both entered. The tent was a sparsely-decorated area, more or less only the bare essentials took up the plentiful space. Standing in front of the back spine of the tent was a banner different from the ones flying outside. A gold stitch outlined the red cloth and in the middle of the banner lay a symbol: three black partially overlapping rings with a sword running across them all. Thrown onto the white sheets of the cot was a sheathed sabre, its hilt and scabbard gilded with gold.

A man scribbled away with charcoal at a piece of parchment paper at a desk opposite to the bed on the left side of the room. Unlike the two mercenaries, the man wore bracers on his arms, metal greaves, sabatons, and a chainmail coif. His hair was a natural cedar brown but already strands of grey were populating the well-maintained head of hair.   

“Happy to see you in good health, Captain,” Jack announced.

The Captain dropped the charcoal and leaned back in the wicker chair. “Dredt, Jack. Anything memorable to report beyond what will go in the annals?”

“Nothing important, sir. Their lines went in and committed just like you said they would. The cavalry did their job,” Dredt replied in a dull tone. 

“What are the losses so far?” Jack asked.

The Captain glanced over to the papers. “Current tallies record around 300 dead and another 400 wounded. We won, but this does put a sizable dent in our roster. Meaning we’ll only have a little more than 1,000 able bodies. Those rebels had slightly more than our scouts reported and they fought well.”

“How long till our next engagement, sir?” Dredt asked.

Jack scoffed but a glare from the Captain reprimanded him enough. “It’s a fine question, Jack. People like us have been busy since my first sunrise and none of that has changed. Work’s good and there’s no reason to lounge around when we have eager people ready to pay us. We have four months ‘till we fight.”

Jack put on an uneasy smile at the news. Dredt’s gaze lingered and disappeared off into his own mind, thoughts of what another battle might bring working with more attention than deserved. An abruptly loud scream from the medical tent made them briefly turn their heads towards it, but they still continued with their conversation.

  “Four months isn’t a lot of time, Captain. I hope that whoever hired us is paying us in wagons of gold because I can barely have any fun in that span,” Jack half-joked. The Captain ignored the joke. “Four months are enough to recover and move to hit the target. Some Carcidge baron wants us to help with their dirty work aka eliminating another baron’s power. We’ll be paid well enough and it should be no problem; just another simple job.”

“Payment, you say?” Jack asked with an eagerness.

“For this one, you’ll get half as soon as everything’s sorted out with the counts and the other half like usual when we return to Halkard. The next job should be late payment. Baron plans to pay us right after the fighting and in more than full.”

“Anything else you need from us, Captain?” Jack asked.

The Captain waved them off and went back to work on the papers. “No, you boys are fine. Get some good chow and ale in you; you deserve it and it will be a while before we have time to actually rest. You’re dismissed, both of you.”

Dredt snapped back to the present. The two mercenaries stood at attention before slightly bowing and leaving the tent. They came out to a slight drizzle that only gently peppered everything with a light coat. Dredt stepping into the rain gave him a calm he wasn’t unfamiliar with. The calm came with a connection to nature he always felt but never could explain. They set off and started to weave their way through tents and camp circles towards their own spot which was further down the line. 

“Another job done,” Dredt put simply.

Jack looked at him ridiculously before scoffing and shaking his head. “You’re a riot, pal. You say that each time like it was as easy and straightforward as catching a hare in a trap, yet every time I catch glances of you on the battlefield you’re a totally different person.”

Dredt shrugged. “At least we aren’t fighting Famiarians. I heard they pour molten slag into prisoner’s wounds.”

Jack looked convinced. “And I heard another that they praise a drowned corpse as a god: I guess you have a point. When are you gonna let me in on where you learned how to fight like that?”

Dredt snorted and smiled mischievously. “Absolutely never. Not gonna let you add my name to your list of victims. I know your tricks just as well as you do, Jack. Go fool someone else if you’re so eager.”

Jack shook his head like a disappointed mother. “Tut tut tut. You’ll never understand the rich mystery you are. And it’s not just me, but most people in the Grimm Seeds want to have their spoils of your life. I might have to call in a favor or two and see if I can’t get someone into your tent and catch you with some pillow-talk.”

Dredt raised an eyebrow. “That wouldn’t have worked in the first place, and especially now since you told me.”

“Ah, but that’s what you think, but little do you know it will have the opposite effect. Mark my words, White-Hair, your secrets will be mine to trade and deal out to the happy buyers.”

Arriving at the limits of the encampment, more than two dozen tents surrounded a sizable firepit with mercenaries scrubbing at their armor and cleaning their weapons. The terrain continued to be heavily wooded and remained just that for as far as the eye could see. A sense of exhaustion hung over not just their group, but over the whole corps. Since the feeling was universal, no one took offense to any short or rude behavior. None of the mercenaries commented on the two arriving back or even looked up for more than a brief second. Those not attending to their duties rested against trees or in hammocks, repairing another valuable aspect of their gear. 

 “Take a page from my book, Jack: keep your mouth shut and just nod,” Dredt said as he rounded his tent and disappeared inside.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll wake you when we have to report for the annals, but you’re on your own for evening chow,” Jack said before wandering off back towards the center of the encampment.

Dredt registered the words before putting his face into his free hand and molding it like clay. With nothing as pressing as battle or a nagging comrade, the fatigue began to set in, but he pushed it back for as long as he needed. He threw off his leather vest and chainmail armor, resting his falcata on top in a neat pile on a square chest at the foot of the cot before dropping onto the pad. It felt like the most perfect thing in the world to him and he felt his body dissolve into the comfort before he drifted away into sleep.

Chapter Two: Campfire Stories

“For a second there I thought that our cavalry had been found out and we were gonna have to take them all down alone,” A voice around the campfire spoke.

Dredt murmured in agreement like most and settled his eyes back on the roaring bonfire. The moon lorded high in the sky and gave everything that the celestial light could sneak through a smooth cover in the obsidian night. He held a metal mug with some fresh tea brewed brought over from another Outfit. Taking a sip, it was a delicate minty flavor that did its job in leaving a warm feeling throughout him and with the pleasant aftertaste of the green leaf. He sat on his own chair, letting his mind wander or fall into the fire with little care. 

Most of his Outfit was squatting on stumps, laying on the ground, or sitting in a chair pulled out. It was a bit of a tradition among the Grimm Seeds to gather after a victory and celebrate. No bottle was being passed around or anything of that sort; they knew that they were expected to be sharp in the morning and no one was foolish enough to risk being discharged on an easy rule to follow. Some had decided to skip out on the fire and rest away in their tents but for the most part, the fire roared and drew in an odd sense of camaraderie to the mercenaries. The time was encouraged by the Lance Sergeant that pushed it onto the outfit corporal. Thus, combined with Jack’s nagging and the feeling of duty, Dredt had been dragged into one of these, for now, a total of seven times. 

“Yeah, but once they came, not even a miracle could’ve saved the rebels from our cavalry. Cut right through them like sheep,” Jack commented from Dredt’s right.

“At least they had a chance to fight. Did you hear about the Deluvian Citadel in Oplet?” A bear of a man with grey hair and a trimmed beard said across from Dredt. 

Another mercenary wearing the same Outfit as them all, a woman, walked out from the shadows to join them around the western side of the firepit. “Yeah, I heard. Fucking brutal. I have no care for the militant sects, but no soul deserves that.”

“What exactly happened, corporal?” Dredt asked, his peaked interest surprising him. 

The outfit corporal pushed their way onto a makeshift log bench and rested a hand on a sword hilt with a green rag attached to the bottom. “No need for the formality, Dredt. This is off time. Just call me by name.”

Dredt nodded. “Sorry, Fia.”

Fia waved it off. “No worries. Anyways, I heard this from those merchants we passed a week ago, but apparently, one of the south-western Citadels in Oplet got hit with a disease of some sort.”

“That was more than some disease; it was a plague, a curse. That whole place should either be burned to the ground or left to rot in its own desecrated ground. Just to make sure that ‘disease’ doesn’t spread,” The bearded mercenary jumped in.

The flickering flames illuminated Fia’s hard features on her face, sculpted by stress, and short-cut black hair. “Aye. Apparently, they all started off with unassuming stuff: their stomachs hurting, head nagging, and limbs aching. Nobody initially had anything to fear except maybe some rotten food or bad water. But then it got worse: people passed out from work and they developed a fever that took them. It managed to get the whole Citadel without any survivors,” 

“How long did the disease infect them?” Jack asked. 

“It was all said and done in a week’s span. They got one letter out but the messenger returned and fell ill as well. Thankfully it didn’t spread, but now that whole Citadel’s an empty mass grave and nobody wants near it,” Fia finished.

“Apparently a lance corporal got caught with a sergeant in their tent this morning,” A voice from around the campfire mentioned, suddenly shifting topics.

There was a wave of surprised snickers and under-breath comments at the rumor. A mercenary laying down on the grass started laughing too hard and received a friendly punch that quieted them down. Silence hung over the group, partially taken over by the crackle of the fire, as each waited for someone to follow up the scandalous topic.  

Another mercenary, a woman with scarlet red hair tied back in a ponytail sitting to Jack’s right, was the one to speak first. “So, which of you sorry scum are fucking someone as of late?”

The mercenary laying with their head in the lap of the woman with their eyes closed smiled. “Of course you would ask that, Victoria. It’s pretty obvious who’s foolish enough to shack up with you.”

Victoria was caught off guard and her face clearly flashed a shade of red only made brighter in the light of the fire as she stumbled to find her words. Dredt and others laughed at the betrayal. He felt a set of eyes stare at him and he turned to meet Fia’s gaze. He raised an eyebrow and had a feeling like he was somehow caught guilty.

“Dredt?” Fia asked with a sly look.

“Yes, Fia?”

“You mind letting your Outfit, the people that you fight and train with, along with your corporal, who the lucky woman is?” Fia plainly asked.

Dredt tried a convincing smile but it faltered like a weak twig. “Who said I was with anyone?”

Fia didn’t respond but Dredt felt the person to his right suddenly stop and go still. He turned his head slowly to Jack and put on the nicest face he could manage, one begging for a court-martial. The woman around Jack’s arms, a cavalry lancer from another Outfit if Dredt remembered correctly, giggled at her partner’s reaction.

“Listen, White-Hair-” Jack started to say.

Dredt cut him off. “It’s Dredt, you blasted-” 

“How could I not say anything? I mean really. I hear a thing or two and you always act differently some mornings. It’s as much your fault as it is mine, White-Hair,” Jack confessed.

“I swear to the Old Gods, Jack, I will strangle you like the rat you are,” Dredt threatened. 

The promise of violence was met with a campfire-wide chuckle but the press for answers didn’t let up. “Come on, Dredt, there’s no rule against in the corps, that is as long as it’s not inside your Outfit. There’s also the rule that two people don’t end up making the third or they’ll get booted, but I don’t expect you or her to be dumb enough to do something like that.”

“Speaking of strangling, “ Victoria said as she pulled out a wrapped piece of parchment peppered with dark crimson blotches. “Look what I found on one of the rebels.”

Victoria unraveled it, showing it off ineffectively in the firelight, then passed it to the mercenary on her right. “Looks like someone was a little too naughty.”

“What do we have here?” A mercenary commented briefly.

“That right there is a Tiin wanted poster from more than ten years ago. A little touched up but still plenty clear,” Victoria explained.

“What for?” Fia asked before she got the poster. “Oh, patricide. That’s a rare one.”

“I wish I could’ve killed my old man. Lucky bastard,” A voice from around the campfire chimed in.

A couple of other comments rang out as the poster was passed from mercenary to mercenary. The paper eventually got around to Dredt. He moved it so he could see it with the firelight and it felt his heart stop. Drawn crudely but still capturing the defining features, Dredt saw his fourteen-year-old self in the paper. Eyes staring back at him as if his present self was solely to blame for his past. The reward called back to something that he wished he could escape, something that had been out of hand. 

He kept himself from staring too long and passed it along to Jack without saying anything. Paranoia pumped through him. His eyes darted to and from each face around the campfire, looking for confrontational gazes or any signs of them noticing. A spasm attacked his left hand and he shoved it behind his back. He could still feel the pain from the knife so many years later. It soon ceased and he felt his heartbeat slowly smooth out, but the dangers still haunted his sight.

“Wonder what happened to this kid,” Jack said after getting handed the wanted poster. “On the run after doing something like that? Surprised they didn’t look in all of Parun for him. If I was to give my senior his due then that’d be the place to hide out in. They hate any crown business and the other families pushing their weight around. Total paradise for someone on the run.”

“Jack’s already got an escape plan set up when all of his mistresses meet up. Let’s just hope he can still get out of the confrontation with his balls not nailed to a tree,” Fia remarked.

Jack’s face went pale at the suggestion and he cracked a weak smile but Fia wasn’t done as she turned back towards Dredt. “You still didn’t answer me.”

Dredt swore under his breath.

Victoria chuckled at the check. “You almost got away, just almost.     

He decided to cut his losses before he got led into saying or doing something worse. “If she hears about this she’ll parade my head on a pike for the corps to see. It’s nothing that will get either of us discharged but she likes to stay away from drama. Her name’s Estrid.”

The woman’s face snuggled up with Jack lit up with realization. “Oh, I think I know Estrid. I’ve heard her name called in my Outfit before. Keeps to herself mostly, but I’ve seen her on a horse and she does the Grimm Seeds name well. How is she in bed?”

Dredt groaned and dropped his head, already regretting his words not even a minute after spouting them. “Will you guys do me a favor and kill me now? I don’t want to face whatever lies for me with her. It’s the least you could do. Especially you, Jack.”

Fia barked a short laugh. “Good. Sounds like you found yourself a fine lass. But if you die, who gets your cut?”

“I’m guessing whoever gets the deed done the quickest,” Jack added.

“Certainly worth the paycheck. With coin like that, you could get yourself a nice title and deed. Not have to work another day in your life,” The bearded mercenary said.

“You’re thinking too small there, Bligh,” Jack jumped.

“That actually sounds pretty nice,” Dredt added quietly.

“Oh, if you’re such a mastermind then what would you do with Dredt’s cut?” Bligh pushed.

“Happy you asked,” Jack said with a shitheel grin on his handsome mug.  

“Please, someone grab his mace and knock him over his fucking head. I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit the idiot’s thought up,” Victoria said. 

“No, no, no. Hear me out. Use the coin you have to marry into a royal family: Kleider, Dranerian, Kranz, Araneus, Passage, or even Tephra. Pick your poison. Then, once you're powerful enough? Gather troops, storm High City Krad, stage a coup, and overthrow that buffoon Gerhart. Become High King of Dolsa. Easy as that.”

The name rang out like a bad omen to Dredt, one he learned of on the run. The Kleiders were a bloodline of warriors and strategists that saw peace as something unnatural; something that should never happen. If the other province families weren’t strong enough, then the Kleiders saw their weakness as an excuse to take towns and to slowly expand their borders till they were stopped. Each territory taken was made to be even more difficult to take back since the Kleider family built castles and forts along their new frontier. There were no fractured lands and warring barons that plagued the other provinces; just one banner of warfare and conscription. 

Dredt pinched his eyes at the plan. “I was one more dumb idea away from just leaving and sleeping. How you do it, Jack, is simply beyond me.”

“Jack would probably make a better High King than Gerhart though. How many royals has he executed or banished so far?” Fia asked.

“Too many. Paranoid Dranerian fool,” Bligh commented. “I don’t think he has anything in mind other than paving the way for success for his family and barely just keeping the other families away from each others’ throats.”

“But he does keep our practice well afloat so you can’t hate him too much,” Jack pointed out.

“Aye,” Dredt said. “The more stupid royals bicker, the more battles for us to fight.” 

“I’ll drink to that,” Fia said, raising her mug for a toast. “High King Gerhart: hated in all of his lands and probably in the bed as well. To coin, our king, and to our king, a paranoid boy.”

Dredt joined in on the toast, draining the rest of his minty drink. “Actually, on second thought, I think that was dumb enough of an idea to convince me to go to sleep.”He stood up to a clamor of boos and slight jabs. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’ll be wishing you’d followed suit in the morning when we’re back to training.”

Fia gave him a compassionate nod. “Sorry to hear about your tentmate. He was a good man and he fought hard. Enjoy the privacy, Dredt. Have a good night’s rest.”

Dredt nodded back and turned away from the campfire, hearing the conversation turn to some past job for the Deluvian Church. The wind howled with a sorrowful moan but the air was still fresh with the scent of blood and decay. It had become such a familiar one to him, one that brought him back to a time of solitude. The metallic scent of blood oxidized to a solid crust combined with the putrid rot of flesh, bone, and gore was more than a smell: it was an all-dominating aura like the calm before a storm. 

Making sure to pick the right tent, he pushed the tent flap aside and took a calming breath. After taking off everything, he fell on his cot and laid there, staring up at the converse of the canvas. He once again let the tire and weariness take him and he plunged into sleep.   

Dredt didn’t know how long he’d been asleep but he jerked awake at the sound of someone entering his tent. Falcata already in hand, his eyes immediately snapped to the dark shadow in front of him. They stopped at his sudden movement. 

“Oh relax, Dredt. If I wanted you dead you know that I’d at least get close and comfortable with you before doing so,” A flirtatious female voice replied.

Dredt put away his falcata. “Can’t help it, Estrid. Was wondering if you were gonna come or not.”

Chainmail and leather dropped to the grass with a dull thud as Estrid joined Dredt on the cot. He quickly dismissed the notion of getting more sleep and knew he would not regret it.

Chapter Three: Fated Travel

Being handed the mug and staring into the warm liquid, Dredt wished that it could heal his tired joints and banish the grogginess that plagued his morning mind. Taking a sip of the coffee, he was rewarded with the disappointing yet obvious answer. The warm feeling it provided only did little but he didn’t complain. Sat around a crackling fire, his comrades were dealing with the same situation with varying strategies and results. His eyes wandered to the muddied ground and he missed the green patches from the months before. 

“Look alive, White-Hair,” Jack said as he walked over and sat next to him. 

“If the crows continue with another night of noise I might have to bug an archer for a favor,” Dredt groaned.

“You might need to head to the chirurgeons because I haven’t heard any crows these past nights on the road,” Jack said as he ran a comb through his blonde hair.

“My ears are working perfectly fine. If it’s just me hearing things then why is everyone looking as dead as I feel?” He asked.

Jack pulled hairs from the comb with a raised eyebrow. “Because we’ve been marching for almost four months.” 

Dredt looked up to his comrade. “Four months? Please tell me we’re going to be done soon.” 

Jack put away his comb, rolling his neck before waving to another Outfit member. “Today’s our last. Well, it should be our last, as long as the rumors I’ve heard are true. I would kill for some ale and free time.”

Dredt chucked the rest of his coffee into the fire and it crackled with a delicious aroma. “Finally. Maybe those crows will leave me alone.”

The bemused mercenary shook his head in disbelief and walked back towards his tent. Dredt found himself again solely alone with the nature around him, taking a second to peer up at the lapis sky and the optimistic clouds that slowly meandered across it. Coming back from the direction of the Captain’s tent, Fia looked slightly fresher than her Outfit.

“Outfit Fifteen! Just continue with your duties and listen,” Fia shouted.

No one in the Outfit reacted verbally to the corporal’s work, but there seemed to be a cumulative increase in the speed of everyone’s movement. Victoria, Bligh, and other members snapped out of their morning haze with a few stumbling out of their tents from their beauty sleep. Dredt didn’t move from his spot next to the fire, his gear already packed and tent a few steps away from being taken down.

“Similar to the day before this and the day before that one: take down your tents and gather your gear. You’re all professionals, so thankfully I don’t have to talk to you like children. Regardless, I’ll make it clear for you: don’t fuck around or I’ll personally deliver you enough disciplinary lashes to make you move double-time everywhere. Even when you have to take a piss,” Fia finished. 

“We move out in half an hour! Is that understood?” The Outfit corporal yelled louder than before.

“Yes, corporal!” The Outfit responded in unison.

“Good,” Fia responded in a more relaxed tone.

Done with her announcement, Fia found a stump near the fire pit and began her own task. Drawing her sword, capped with a minimum disc pommel and a blade slightly curved, she began running a whetstone over the edge. She was focused on her work just like everyone else and soon the rhythmic sound of the sharpening became one with the natural ambience. Dredt stood up, stretched his back, and began taking down his tent. The rest of the day seemed to mesh together in repetition and it wasn’t long until the Grimm Seeds corps was on the march.

“Outfit halt!” 

Dredt heard these words repeated down throughout the company as each Outfit sergeant passed it on. The Grimm Seeds mercenary corps came to an eventual stop. Rows of four were all the rough road would let them travel on. Their pace these last months had been slower than usual but they travelled with discipline and the terrain is always the bottom line. He always found it odd to be on the move day after day and then have those seconds of complete stop. It was like coming out of a trance for him, being able to actually look around and consume the nature around him. 

Carcidge terrain wasn’t like the softer, more forgiving provincial land of Oplet; it seemed like not even the flora or fauna enjoyed being here. Rough bramble scarred the arid world. Even a fortunate wind would not rid them of the constant dust from the road. The sun had passed from directly overhead and was now making its way towards the horizon.

Sat from a horse, Fia reared around with her mare and addressed her troops. “Outfit Fifteen! Same as the day before, set up camp! But unlike yesterday, tomorrow we meet to fight! Have your weapons ready and no fucking around. From our reports, it’s unlikely we’ll have high losses tomorrow, but still be prepared for anything. 

The whole Outfit shifted in place waiting as Fia directed to her right. “If maps are true then our spot is a bit to the west and right up and cozy against a hill. If not, I’ll make sure to yell at the Captain for being a cheap ass again,” Lighthearted chuckles peppered the Outfit and she waited before addressing them again. “Day’s still young but we need all the time we can get. Outfit Fifteen, dismissed!”

Each Outfit began dispersing out to the sides of the road. A lighter mood could be sensed from the ending march, but the begrudging routine of setting camp still waited. Pack animals and horses carrying the bulk of the equipment took priority over everyone else. With their loads lifted, groups of mercenaries with their weapons in easy reach, led the animals to their much-deserved reprieve. The Grimm Seeds didn’t seem that big to Dredt when just seeing them by Outfit but he knew that the fact the corps had a lengthy history was a testament to its strength. He shifted the pack on his back and joined his comrades in moving onward.

No more than twenty minutes later and a prevented scene with an Outfit sergeant over a very costly remark by Bligh, Outfit Fifteen found what they hoped was their spot. The area was an odd clearing, dry and grass barely tinted green. Grass ended as rock shot out of the ground at a steep angle to the point it seemed more like all of the dirt and flora had been scrubbed away by brutal conditions. Jagged knife-shaped stones made a sharp skin to the hill as it grew to the small forested patch at the top. Most likely due to some flash-burn or storm rockslide, the clearing was a quaint break for the prickly thorns and dust of the main road. 

Dredt and his Outfit arrived and everyone went back into their routines, all chatter and banter coming to an absolute stop. He enjoyed the quiet. Some in the corps had even thought him to be a mute at one point. 

As he set up his tent and helped move chests off of a wagon, he spotted something that made him stop. Coming from the north was a figure walking slowly towards his group. They were still a ways away, but something compelled him to stop and wait. He still couldn’t make out much as they approached each member of his Outfit. They continued to make their way through the setting camp. The whole Outfit began to stop what they were doing in curiosity to the figure briefly talking to each member before moving to the next.

No mercenary harassed or seemed tense by the mysterious arrival; they didn’t brandish any weapons. What could one traveller do against a whole Outfit of professional killers? As they got closer, Dredt could begin to make them out better. The traveller wore a blend of burnt orange and bark brown clothing. A shawl of patched cloth made with evident skill covered most of their upper half. Jewelry, held with woven rope and gems of deep color, jingled from their wrists and their wooden sandals barely marked the grass as they came to meet Dredt. He looked around but he was the only one they were approaching.

“Can I help you?” Dredt asked, dropping his task.

“I’m solely passing through. But rather, it seems like I could be of use instead,” The figure replied.

The traveller’s voice was as strange as they were. It was feminine, seemingly foreign, cautious, and from a secluded world that would instantly frighten any outsider that dared to travel to it. Each word that came off her tongue was like a second language, yet mastered to the point that only the accent lingered. Dredt had never heard anything like it before and despite its warnings, there was an allure to it.

“How so?” Dredt asked, seemingly more cautious than he would’ve been around someone like them.

Her face was still obscured by a hanging part of the shawl. “I will, of course, continue on my way, but I would like to offer you the same chance I’ve given to your brothers and sisters in arms.”

Dredt chuckled a bit. “We’re just soldiers who want to fight for a little more than just honor and the High King’s appreciation. I would never consider them anything like family. People have never been my preferred company but they’re a decent bunch.”

“My apologies. Interesting comment, though. It’s harder to tell what’s what these days with all of the feuds. Are you interested?” The traveller asked abruptly. 

Dredt was caught off guard by the question. “Interested?”

She laid her palms out flat, revealing a design that drew Dredt’s eyes in curiosity. Two designs mirrored each other on her palms. The designs weren’t any that he knew with factions or families. On his first look, it seemed to be an evil flower or sapling on his first glance, but a second revealed its true nature. The symbol, created with some charcoal infusion that was deeper into the skin, was four roots growing upwards from a single point until coming up to tips like a fisherman’s crude hook. Barbed prickles and thorns sprouted from the sides of the roots to create a messy tangle of born danger. He knew he was staring at the point, but he felt consumed by them.

“If you so desire and would let me, I can give you a glance of what is to be,” She said.

The traveller’s words shook Dredt away from the trance of the matching symbols. “A glance of what is to be?”

She giggled in an unsettling way. “What your future holds for you: perhaps your death if the stars align, maybe even the full story, or bits of the past: it differs.”

Dredt’s paranoia answered for him before he could even fight for control over it. “I’d rather you not. I’m sure Jack or others would love to hear what a seer has to say about them.”

The traveller lifted her head and shawl, revealing at least more of her face before as a similarly tan bandana hung below her eyes. His guess of her being a seer was spot on. Her hair was braided with beads of colored clay and spotted thick cinnamon strands. A crescent moon branded on her forehead immediately stood out to Dredt as a symbol for the Old Gods. Her eyes were amethyst slivers and watched him with interest. 

“Oh, come now, you don’t have any want to see what your fate lies in store for you?” She continued to offer.

“I’ve never believed in any of the Old Gods. Doubt they’d care enough about a nobody like me to give you anything of worth,” Dredt said and looked towards the treeline’s horizon. “I don’t know where you’re going, but it might be smart to get the farthest away you can get from this camp. The Grimm Seeds won’t harass you but I can’t say much for the Carcidge soldiers.”

“Those baron’s soldiers? They didn’t notice me passing through. Once I got past them, I saw your group and let my curiosity guide me,” She explained. “I know my way around these forests like the weaves of a net. If I wanted your corps to not notice me then I’d go through without leaving a trace.”

Dredt knew he should’ve gotten back to setting camp, but nobody dragged him away from the seer. “So you wanted to be seen? You’re lucky we’re more professional than those rabble.”

The seer laughed lightly at the comment. “I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to meet you if I hadn’t. I’m not lucky, just prepared. I insist you reconsider. You may never know what you may come to regret not knowing.” 

Before Dredt could reply the seer’s hands shot forward from and grabbed his hands. He was surprised by the sudden grip but he reassured himself that she presented no threat to a soldier like him. Moving her hands over his, he was surprised by how rough her own hands were: softer than his, but accustomed to their own amount of work.

A silence grew between them as her eyes had rolled back into her head. It would’ve frightened Dredt if he hadn’t seen far more gruesome things on the battlefield. Seconds passed before she let go of his hands, rubbing her own in excitement. Since a bandana covered more than half of her face, only her eyes were the only true expressions. 

“Well, what did you see?” Dredt asked. He was more curious to know than he expected.

The seer seemed to have trouble containing herself, taking a moment to compose herself and stow away her hands back into the shawl’s fold before answering. “You… you have much that awaits you. So… so much. My, my, my, Not just coin for conflicts or bloodied blades.”

Dredt could instantly tell there was something off with her. “How much did you see? Was it my past?”

She started to say something, but stopped herself and thought before answering. “It was many, many things. Fragments jumbled together to a point a more thorough reading would give you better answers. One thing was very clear and it was of the future.”

“I don’t have time for a more thorough reading or to talk longer,” Dredt looked around and saw that everyone else had returned to work and he didn’t want to lag behind. “You mentioned something clear. Should I know about it?”

“No, I don’t think so. You should learn soon enough,” She answered.

The seer gave a slight bow before moving past Dredt towards the thicket. Almost in alarm, his left hand flared up and started spasming. He swore and started to grip it with his other hand, eyes darting around to make sure no one noticed it. The jerks were more violent than they’d ever been, requiring his full force to keep it from grabbing something or flinging out. As it soon began to calm down and his paranoia with it, he heard something that made his paranoia surge back into him with a revitalized spring

“It’s not a feeling, but an assurance that we will meet again, Leeve,” The seer said but in a completely different voice that was absent from the foreign accent.

Dredt spun around, his heart pounding in his ears at the mention of his last name. The sudden change of voice sent hundreds of thoughts through his head. Dread started to creep into his nerves with the possibility someone knew him from his past, what that could spell for him; how they could ruin the peacefulness he’d worked to build, how a single whisper or letter could send him back into the forests. 

He didn’t want to have to disappear again.