Book 3: Chapter 29: Liberation |
Like the regular armies of the land, there are ranks within the Mercenary’s Guild. Unlike the Adventurer’s Guild, which bases its ranks on metals, the Mercenary’s Guild adopts a more novel approach.
The guild is organized into so-called great companies, each a formidable force split into two Wings, each Wing comprising of five hundred warriors. These Wings are further divided into Claws, with each Claw numbering a hundred souls, and these, in turn, are divided into Scales, the smallest unit, consisting of ten fighters. Wing Leaders, Claw Leaders, and Scale Leaders serve as commissioned officers, and their ranks are reflected in the authority and respect they command within the guild outside of a campaign.
The nomenclature chosen by the guild is steeped in ancient legend and warrior mystique. A full assembly of a great company is also known as a 'Dragon'. It is said that in the ages before the Cataclysm, it took a full thousand men to slay one of the dreaded tyrants of the sky.
- In Search of the Dragons, by Captain Fiorella Haldane.
Checking my belongings, I made sure that nothing else had been taken from me by the poor excuses of ‘adventurers.’ I needed to get out of the inn for a while, sooner rather than later if at all possible. There were a few chores on my list that needed doing and it would be good to explore the city.
I ordered some juice and left the last dregs of my drink at the bar. Sitting at a table in the corner, I idly waited for half a turn of the clock. Zariyah’s mother, after settling a few ruffled feathers of her clients, joined me. I then spent a few minutes of my life explaining, in almost excruciating detail, what had just happened in her establishment. Elwin decided to join us, giving small nods at the right moments to affirm my narrative while quietly downing a warm ale. He soon wandered off in search of the bathroom, but Cordelia stayed seated by my side, her hands resting demurely in her lap.
Naira had been sympathetic. By all witnesses accounts I had been the victim. However, she still looked obviously worried, her hands shifting uncomfortably every now and again.
“Perhaps it would have been better if you had killed the lot of them. Simpler, at least,” she concluded shockingly.
“I beg your pardon?” I spluttered in my mug, almost comically choking.
“The Mirage is a known troublemaking foreigner,” she explained, ignoring Cordelia’s barb. “Foreigners have a way of causing trouble, and the gods know they have a habit of dying. They bring their feuds with them to Al-Lazar, bundling them in their hearts and planting them fresh on new soil, wherever they go,” she paused for a moment, as if sifting through a past memory. I could see Cordelia almost bristling at this.
“But now, there are three of them, silver-ranked of the Guild, no less, who will feel themselves aggrieved by you. Fear will soon turn to thoughts of what could have been. It will fester away and turn to thoughts of petty vengeance. Such is the way of foolish men’s pride,” she warned as she adjusted a loose strand of dark hair.
“They did not seem so formidable to me, and their leader, if my recollection serves me well, was a woman. And if that is the quality of the Silver rank in this city, then my Copper, and the Copper of my friends, will be shield enough,” I boasted, placing my own badge on the table.
“Samasa, forgive me, but you must let me point out that this is Al-Lazar. One does not rise to the Silver without making friends and allies along the way. The Mirage is a troublemaker, but she is tolerated for a reason. Powerful as you might personally be, copper still makes for a poor shield. Please, you must try and understand your predicament,” she stated, her tone skirting the edges of patronizing.
“It is perhaps you who does not quite understand the true power that I hold. Rest assured, and fear not overly for me,” I returned confidently, stretching out a kink in my shoulder.
“It is not you that I worry most for, but those that are near you. When the summoned storm comes, the tall tree may stand strong, but those around are never unscathed,” she rejoined with a little heat entering her voice.
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Irritated, I looked around, wanting an escape now from this interaction. Daylight was wasting away and I had other things that demanded my attention. “I will not quibble words with you. Let me remind you, this was not a fight of my choosing. I am the victim here. Please, I urge that you speak your meaning plain,” I stated, letting my emotions bleed into my voice.
The Aranthian woman looked at Naira with eyes filled with the embers of a long-held resentment. “Yes, you lot have always had the penchant for twisting things to suit your ends. I sense you attempting to lead Gilgamesh down a thorny path,” muttered Cordelia with no small amount of contempt.
“Have I affronted you in some way? You are a guest here. Does your Goddess not teach you to love and offer at least a minimum of respect to your neighbors? Or have the scriptures been yet again changed?” responded Naira archly.
“Yes, please, Cordelia. A modicum of decorum and manners would be appreciated. Remember we are guests and foreigners in this land,” I added, with a tired sigh.
The woman warrior looked like she had something to add, but decided against it. Crossing her arms, she decided to instead glare at the older woman. What was the source of her anger? Was it simply unfounded racism, or was it something more? Some of her comments… had been troubling. However, I decided that it had no real bearing in the current moment.
“Thank you, Cordelia,” I said politely, earning a small nod from the warrior woman.
“Since you are a guest under my roof, I seek to warn you. Do not underestimate these people. Please take this without insult, for I know that you are still oh so very young, but you should not use arrogance in confidence’s stead. As for my worries, I have many but I worry most for Zari.”
“I see now the gist of your words. Forgive me for being dull. You worry that she would suffer from some sort of reprisal, for being associated with me,” I conceded, rubbing my chin and noting the lack of stubble. My avatar had not changed one whit since being summoned to this land.
“Yes, and if you would allow me, I would like to buy her contract from you. The inn has done well, and I have put aside some money. The amount may be insulting, but… she is my daughter. I may also have a solution for your current predicament.”
“A most wonderful solution,” muttered Cordelia. Sulking as she was, I realized then that it did little to detract from her cold, marble, almost divine beauty. Attractive people were thus blessed.
I glanced up away from the conversation to see the object of our current discussion making her way towards me, eyes filled with silent reproach. As worrisome as an approaching storm. In the manner of men all over the world, stupidly and inappropriately timed as it was, I found myself comparing the three women before me.
A stark contrast to Cordelia’s bleak marble perfection, Zariyah had a dark beauty. And, if I was completely honest, it was the sort of beauty that felt much more attainable. Naira was an attractive woman in her own right, but Zariyah, bluntly speaking, was a younger, more attractive version of her mother. For some reason or other, I noticed that she had taken off the kohl and whatever cosmetics she used to enhance her natural beauty. It suited her. Without her painted face, she looked younger still, and I judged her to be younger than even myself.
I could feel my heart quickening, my eyes lingering upon the mute woman. For a moment I entertained thoughts as to the possible sounds she would make in the bedroom. Giving in to the throes of passion, would her affliction force her to remain silent?
As she drew closer, I felt an urge to score a few points and impress.
“Then you have misjudged me, and poorly at that. I have always intended to release your daughter. I simply required a guide for the city. Yet at every turn, events conspire to vex me. And I will not accept your money. Where I come from we do not deal in slaves like barbarians.”
“There is no slavery in Al-Lazar,” came Naira’s automatic response, as her daughter sat quietly next to her.
“You may paint over rot, but the rot remains. It is my firm belief that slavery, in all of its forms, is a great evil that needs to be expunged, wherever it is found,” I responded as smoothly as possible. I noticed that Cordelia looked at me as if I was explaining some sort of cosmic truth, her lips moving to silently repeat my words.
Surely those were inspirational words? Perhaps I needed to add some more conviction.
I noticed that Zariyah looked as if she wished to say something, the strain of holding something back drawing her features tight.
“Is there something you would like to add?” I inquired politely.
She looked at me then, not quite meeting my eyes. She shook her head and looked away. I was given to the study of her profile, the delicate arch of her nose, and the tilt of her eyes. I felt an urge to trace the line of her cheek, but I quashed it. Buried it beneath layers of decorum and doubt.
Was it disappointment that had flickered across her face? Had my words fallen short? In the court of a woman’s feelings, had I, unwittingly, played the fool?
Had I failed an unseen roll of the dice?
And for all that, not even a gain of Charisma. Did this world not reward doing good?
