This is a work in progress. It is Copyright  Michael J. Natale
It is provided here for personal, non commercial use under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-No Derivatives license.
Sellsword
By
Michael Natale
michael@seewhatsinmybrain.com
"Fuck 'em in the liver," the Captain growled. "We attack tonight."
The Captain bent over his maps, studying the layout of ground and castle. Beric
stood in the back of the tent, trying to see without making it look like he was looking.
The Old Man had summoned him to his tent but when he arrived, they told him to stand
in the back near the sideboard and say nothing until the meeting was over. Beric knew
better than to piss off the Old Man or his Lieutenants, so he did as he was commanded.
The other men in the tent waited for word from the Old Man. Grizzled veterans
of a hundred campaigns, these were hard men. Along with the Captain, they were the
men who commanded the Red Scorpions, one of the few remaining Free Companies still
working in Rigel. One of the few remaining whose reputation still turned men's bowels to
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water at any rate.
The Captain reached out and picked up the scroll for the third time, scanning it
again, considering the words written there. He glanced over at the Emissary, a nervous
young man not much older than Beric. The young nobleman had ridden in under a peace
banner to deliver his Lord's message, and knew the Captain would never betray the
protection that white flag gave the man.
The Emissary puffed up, outraged that his Lord's proposal had been rejected. He
seemed genuinely unable to believe that the terms offered were unacceptable. "You
decline Lord Kenworth's offer then?"
The two soldiers guarding the door stepped forward to flank the Emissary. The
Captain walked around the table to stand before the man. Broad shouldered and well
over six feet tall, the Captain towered over the man. "Aye," he said. "We don't break a
Contract once blood has been spilled on the field. Your Lord should have known who it
was he was trying to buy before making an offer like that. I take that as a personal
insult."
The man scoffed, glancing nervously at the two men who now stood dangerously
close to him. "What insult is this? You are Sellswords! You sell your swords to the
highest bidder. Who can offer more generous terms than Lord Kenworth? The wealth of
House Kenworth is known to all throughout the realm. No house is more prosperous."
"True," the Captain agreed. "Still, you have my answer. Problem is, I can't let you
deliver it just yet." With a glance from the Captain, the men at arms seized the Emissary.
"This is an outrage," the man cried. "I rode in under a flag of peace!"
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"You'll not be harmed," the Captain assured him. "Lieutenant, find our guest a
comfortable tent near the rear of the field, and keep him there under guard. See that he
lacks for nothing. When the castle falls, he is free to deliver my answer to Lord
Kenworth."
The man was dragged sputtering and protesting from the tent. The Old Man
returned to his maps, and the Lieutenants moved to surround the table. "There are
three inner walls surrounding the castle and one way in. The gates leading deeper into
the castle are staggered so even if we take down the main gate, we'll have to march
halfway round the castle to take the second."
One of the Lieutenants scoffed. Pinkeye, Beric knew. The man was in command
of Beric's regimen. "Fuck that. Those inner walls will be stuffed with murder holes. Our
boys would be chopped to bits."
The Captain nodded. "Going in the front gate is suicide, but their going to think
that's our only way in. So we give them a nice show by putting two regimens at the front
gate. While they try to bring the main gate down, we're going to breach the walls here,"
Beric heard a counter being snapped down on the table, "here and here. I want two
Spooks at every penetration and I want the walls breached as fast as they can. We'll go
straight through each wall in succession. We'll need four men for every team of Spooks
to protect them while they work their mojo and two regimens behind each team to go in
once the work is done."
"That's more like it," Pinkeye laughed. He was a big bellied man but powerful and
fierce and one of the Captain's most trusted Lieutenants. "My boys will take the gate if
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you like, sir. We'll make the fuckers think the entire Company is coming through the
front door."
The Captain nodded. "Whitewash, Cronesbane and Satin - you have the western,
northern and eastern breaches respectively." The other Lieutenants grunted. No one
liked working with the Spooks. "Remember, our objective here is to have Lord Kenworth
hand the castle over. Leave the civilians be if you can. The Spooks want him alive, if
possible. Tell your men. I'll have the head of any man who lets bloodlust get the better
of him. Dismissed."
As the Lieutenants left, they elbowed one another and gestured at Beric as they
walked by, grinning. Beric was nervous. He had no idea why the Captain had summoned
him. The Lieutenants were in charge of discipline within their own cadres. Usually only
the most grievous of transgressions brought you before the Old Man himself. Beric was
trying to go through the past week since they made camp to try and think if he'd broken
any regulations. Well...any regulations the Captain could possibly know about.
The Captain gestured to Beric. "Beric Hightower," he said, returning to his seat on
the other side of the map table.
Beric moved to stand before the table. "Reporting as ordered sir."
The Old Man shuffled some papers on his table, scanning each briefly and setting
them aside. Field reports, Beric knew. "Pinkeye tells me we have you to thank for
stopping that band of idiots that tried to sneak through our camp last night?"
Relief washed over Beric. "Its nothing, sir. Any man would have heard them."
The Captain grunted. "I'm not talking to any man, Hightower. I'm talking to you.
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You were on watch, is that the right of it?"
Beric nodded. "Aye, sir. I had the eastern watch and spotted them entering the
perimeter just after midnight. They made enough noise to wake the dead."
The Captain looked up at him, annoyed.
"They were trying to get to me,
Hightower. Are you saying letting them murder me in my sleep is nothing?"
"Not at all, sir. Just that any man would have done the same is all."
The Old Man had returned his attention to his maps and reports. "Yes, well. It
wasn't any man, it was you. You saved my skin when you raised the alarm and flanked
the four of them. Pinkeye tells me it was over before it even began. I've a mind to
reward such quick thinking, Hightower. I want you and five men of your choosing to
accompany the Spooks at the Northern wall."
"Thank you, sir," Beric stammered out, knowing the Old Man was honoring him.
He was giving him an opportunity to distinguish himself here that shouldn't be
squandered.
The Captain looked up at him again. "Don't piss yourself, son. No one follows a
man that stinks of piss."