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Red Wizard
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Rosellangel
Lord WraithKieran and Fridolf
The pair's turn in line had come, and the squad of city guards stopped the two, the sergeant looking them over with a critical eye, taking special notice of Kieran with his two swords and the mud-stained Fridolf. The sergeant began to open his mouth, but before he could say anything Fridolf cut him off by leaning from his sandle, until he was hanging close to the officer's ear. Conspiratorialy close, some would say. The sergeant eye's narrowed, his suspicion's irked by this uncommon turn of events, though through either a naturally inquisitve nature, or perhaps a willingless to find diversion from the monotony of gate guarding, he was willing to see where this was leading, at least for now. Good, Fridolf thought, that's enough opening for me.
"Psst!" he hissed, beckoning the guardsmen to crowd in closer by waving his hand. They duly complied, jostling one another for position, faces open in curiosity. Some of the traffic behind Fridolf and Kieran tried to push forwards, but were quickly discouraged of that notion by a bullshouldered guardsman growling threateningly in their directions. The grifter had the gate-guard's full attention now, and they weren't the type of lads who liked being interrupted.
"You lads seen a tall, blonde man come through this aways? Woulda been sporting a wispy little mustache, with a an ugly arse birthmark across the bridge of his conk, like a bird had shat purple on his face. No? He'd probably been wearing a maroon cloak." He spoke in a low whisper, though one carefully modulated so that it was loud enough for all his audience to hear him. Took some work, a whisper like that, but was well worth the effort. Made anyone who heard it think they were a part of some conspiracy, or about to be privvy to some juicy gossip. And if there was one thing soldier-boys loved, it was gossip. Several pairs of eyes began to shine in anticipation, while the sergeant lent in a bit closer, his features softening somewhat.
"Can't say we've seen a man fitting that description. What's this about?" Replied the sergeant, eliciting a sigh of relief from Fridolf. He wiped at his brow with the back of his sleeve, before returning his attentions to his small audience.
"That there is a relief like you lads wont believe. Began to think that maybe we'ez was too slow. Ain't that a relief Benjy-boy?" He flashed a grin to the Witcher, hoping the younger man wouldn't blow their cover by overplaying his part.
"See, my names Jonas Starline. I'm a soldier from the Northern ranks . . . well, I was a soldier, until I had the shite luck ta run afoul of the rightsame blistering thunder-cunt that I just described to you fellas. Nowadays, well now I'm just a poor bloke down on his luck, and ... well, I shouldn't be boring you with my sob stories, we ain't got time for that."
It was clear that the sergeant and his squad were warming to 'Jonas Starline'. Nothing endeared itself to enlisted men like the plights of fellow enlisted men. They all bemoaned the hardness of their incessantly bleak lives, and loved nothing more than to share in the sorrow of their fellow, if only so they could borrow those troubles for their own the next time they were in the tavern and competing with their comrades for the 'whose had the shitest career' trophy. Masochists by proxxy, the lot of them.
"Anyway, after I got shunted from the forces I had a good hard decision to make. See, Benjy here is my kid brother. Lovely kid, bootiful singing voice, like a blessed angel. Slow as an old mule with a missing leg though. Mammy dropped him on his head as a babe see, and he ain't never been right since. I've always looked after him since mammy passed, rest her soul, and without my soldier's pay, well I'm feared what may come to the two of us. Some of the guards shot sympathetic looks Kieran's way, though the man closest to the Witcher took a step away from him, as if he was afraid that he might catch a case of stupid. Kieran smiled pleasantly and vacantly as was expected, but kept silent.
"So I got to get more work quick, or we'll both end up starving, which ain't no way for an honest soldier, loyal to King Krios, to die." The sergeant nodded slowly and made a sympathetic cluckling noise with his tongue, before motioning for 'Jonas' to continue his tale.
"Figured the easiest place for an old swordhand like m'sell to find work was your fine city of Telchar. Plenty of merchants looking fer experienced guards, or maybe a tavern looking for a bouncer, ye know the thing. So me an Benjy, we packed up our belongings, sparse as they may be, sold mammy's old hut, and used the proceeds to buy a couple nags." Here was were the stories holes might show through. Just where a half-wit, brother to an out of work common soldier, might have gotten himself a horse as fine as Storm - whose quality was evident to even Fridolf's untrained eye - was a devil of a question to answer. Thankfully the squad was too taken up with the tale of woe, and where it was going, to quite question the details. He continued on quickly, not willing to give the lads to long to in case they started to excercise those grey things between their ear's.
"So there we were, riding into the great unknown, when I decided on a whim to stop in at me old mess hall and have one last schniffter with me ol' muckers. You lads know how it is, can't just run out on your comrades, even if I have been cheated out of the uniform." This also earned some nods of agreement, though a few faces scrunched up in confusion, as if the men had just remembered that Jonas was no longer a soldier, but had yet to explain why.
"Well, I had more than one drink with the boys. Started enjoying meself so much that I came to think me and Benjy might have lost a days travel, in fact, but thats when Cromtiff, who was the champion pugilist in me regiment, let it slip." Pause, for dramatic tension. The guardsmen leant in even closer, if that was possible. "Special-Commander Reevis, the man I described to you lads earlier, and the whoreson responsible for my current misfortunes, was on his way to Telchar, and taking this very path." Fridolf folded his arms, and nodded triumphantly to the squad, though recieved nothing but blank looks in return. Silence reigned for a moment, but when it became clear that Jonas wasn't going to be continuing unprompted the sergeant coughed to clear his throat.
"And, uh, just who is special-commander Reevis? And, for that matter, what is a 'special-commander?"
"You mean they never told you about the special-commanders?" Fridolf responded incredulously, feigning outrage.
"Who's they?"
"Why, yer captains man! Yer captains! They ain't mentioned the special-commanders t'ya?"
The sergeant was looking completely puzzled now, and actually doffed his coif and scratched at his thinning sandy hair before answering.
"Not that I remember. Should they have?"
Fridolf made a grunting noise at the back of his throat, though the grunt went on for so long that it became a growl.
"Those highborn bastards!" He snarled, slamming his fist into his palm, the very picture of an incensed soldier. Just what he was incensed at the squad couldn't be sure about, but Fridolf made sure that it was some moments before he appeared calm enough to continue his story. He was enjoying himself too much to let it end so soon.
"They're doing it again, dammit! The same thing they did to me, and half the lads in my regiment! Mark my words boys, those noble shit-stain, cum buckets are trying to mark yer cards!"
When he'd finally stopped making wordless rage-like noises and cursing all gentry, he allowed the guardsmen to goad out the rest of his story.
"Hold on," interrupted the sergeant, "what are they doing? And what's it gotta do with this special-commander."
Fridolf took a deep breath, trying to look like a man doing his level best at mastering an animal like fury. Didn't take much effort, considering his intense familiarity with that particular type of curse.
"You boys in the city ranks musta heard about all them plans the generals have to cut military costs, aye?" A series of nods met this statement. There was always rumours amongst the common soldiery about the bigwig's plans to minimize military budgets . Even a self-avowed pacifist like Fridolf had heard them. "Well the special-commanders are the gentry's latest plans."
"Those specials are spies and traitors." He spat for emphasis. "Sometimes they make like they're enlisting up as normal soldiers, then make mates with us rankers. It's all a ploy though. They sit at our campfires, or join us at the tavern table, and as we chatter and banter, they're taking notes of all thats said. And if you say something that the command might not like, say complaining about rations or complaints about some tosser captain, those special-commanders take note. Othertimes they dress up as commoners while we're on patrol or at a guard station, or what have you, and try to get us to slip up. Curse the king, or what have ye, like an honest soldier of Telchar would do sommat like that!"
"Well, once they've compiled they're shiting reports, they pass 'em onta the brass, who then got themselves a dishonest reason to get rid of a honest soldier." There was a collective gasp of disbelief at this, and more than one foul curse. The burly gateguard near the back hissed that he'd heard all about this from one of his mates, which was impressive seeing as Fridolf had just made it all up. There was no such thing as a special-commander. The con-man wated until the hubbub died down before continuing.
"And thats how them arselickers got ol' Jonas. Got shafted by Cromtiff, didn't I, after I merely made mention that my army issued boots didn't fit right, and how I reckoned the quartermaster in charge of such things was buying them cheap then pocketing the difference. Well Cromtiff grassed me up, and that was that, outta the military for me. So now the high hegions have managed to do some old rankers outta a job, cut their budgets, and made sure that even if us soldiers did wanta complain, it would look like we were radical dissidents making noise after being rightfully turfed out."
"Thats terrible." Sympathised the sergeant, his squad nodding enthusiastically in agreement.
"Aye, that it is squire. Which is why when I heard Cromtiff was on his way here, probably to do more of our lads outta their jobs, I turned to Benjy here and said, 'ah-ah, Benjy-boy, not on my watch, nor siree'. See, I might not be able to wear the colours no more, but you lads are still my comrades, and I'll never see our lads in a fix, not while there's still breath in my body." Kieran smiled blankly at mention of his name.
"We made haste thiss'aways, barely stopping for rest or vittles, as'in ya can probably know doubt see by the state of us." Handy way to explain his current state of sartorial distress. "And it seems our prudence paid off, as in it looks like we beat ol' Cromtiff here. Now you lads are forewarned and forearmed, as it were. You'll know to be ready for that cocksucker when he shows his ugly mug, for in he cannae be far down the road now. Mind your P's and Q's lads, and don't say a thing to him that you dinnae need to, and you'll get through alright. If you don't say anything, he can't report you for anything, and you boys will beat the system!" Fridolf smacked his fist into his palm once more, this time in savage triumph.
The guardsmen, already scanning the horizon for the hated - and fictional - special-commander Cromtiff, gave a ragged cheer, singing Jonas' praises and bemoaning the fact that they'd never be able to work with him. The sergeant smiled beatifically before gently grasping Flo and Storm's reigns and guiding the horses through the clamour of guardsmen, Fridolf and Kieran shaking hands and recieving backslaps from the grateful soldiers. Kieran for his part returned them all enthusiastically, with a wide smile and did not say a word while looking utterly confused.
"You're a hero Jonas. You and your brother too. The brass might not think so, but it's the opinion of the common boots that matters. I'll make sure every squaddie in the city knows what you've done. Many an enlisted man can sleep easier, now that we know what the commanders have been cooking up. We'll all be on our guard from now on. What the fuck can we do to thank you?" Fridolf fixed his face into a bashful smile, and did his best to blush. It's more difficult than it sounds, faking a blush. Fridolf had found that imagining that he was standing in church in front of a congregration of old women while his cock hung free usually did the trick.
"Oh, I ain't no hero, just done what any of you lads woulda done" He murmered, all of Jonas' storytelling bravado from a moment ago dissapeared like smoke in the wind now that his praises were being sung.
"Bollocks," replied the sergeant, "must be something we can do for you?"
"Well, there is one thing . . . "
"Anything!"
"Well like I said, me and Benjy find ourselves a touch light on funds, and we heard that there's a toll to get into the city, and, well . . . " The sergeants face lit up, and he nearly bounced on his toes, as he realised how easy it would be to repay his debt.
"Say no more Jonas, man like you, doesn't need to pay no stinking gate tax. You've already contributed more than any of these fucking merchant men. Follow me, I'll take you both through." And with that the sergeant led the two riders through the gate, and into the city. When on the other he pointed out directions to get to the major districts.
"We wont forget what you did today." The sergeant repeated. "I'll be sure to charge that tosser 'special-commander' double when I see him, just for you!" With that he turned on his heel and returned to his squad, though not before thrusting a bulging coin purse into Fridolf's outstretched hands, a 'contribution to the retired veteran's fund', apparently. The conman watched the sergeant go, making sure he was truly gone, before turning to Kieran and flashing a shit eating grin.
"Impressed?"
Kieran's blank smile turned into a genuinely appreciative gesture, his eyebrow cocking up in surprise, "Very. You played them all like a fiddle, Fridolf. Let us hope they do not catch on to the ruse any time soon. We don't need the guards looking around for us."
Fridolf snorted in derision, shaking his head condescendingly.
"Those boys wont be catching on anytime soon. They'll be too busy spending the next year glancing over their soldiers in fear of being stalked by special-commanders. You stick to nekkers, I'll handle the rubes... and their coin!" He cackled as he tossed the coin pouch high into the air, before tucking it into his shirt.
He eyed the coin as they rode by, "Taking the coin might have been a bit much, but it's too late to give it back now. I dislike misleading people in matters of money." The notion didn't quite sit right with Kieran, but he tried to put it out of his mind. The coin was made from tolling poor farmers anyway. Kieran could see that it was put to better use. He would have to keep telling himself that for a while before it would be convincing.
"In any case, I think we've earned ourselves a good dinner and a roof over our heads, right? The sergeant mentioned an inn called the Jolly Lion, Central District. Sounds like a fine place."
He caught site of a posting on a nearby wall and quickly scanned it from his seat, his forehead furrowing. 200 crowns to find a missing girl. That hefty of a reward, coupled with the term missing, indicated a monster-related job. Just up Kieran's alley. He needed the money, and it could be the girl's disappearance was connected to the mystery beast. Even if not, it was his duty to pursue the job.
Kieran turned back to Fridolf as they slowly cantered through the hustle and bustle of the city, high above most of the inhabitants as they pushed by on foot or with carts in the crowded streets. He had been to a few towns before, but had never seen so many people at once. Scores of greetings, curses, laughs, and conversations in a dozen tongues filtered through the air as fragrant foods mixed with the scent of sweat, piss, and shit. It was disorienting at first to his superhuman senses and Kieran had to concentrate for a second to dispell the sights, sounds, smells, and various stimuli that competed for attention.
Finally he said to Fridolf, "We get lodgings tonight, and in the morning, I aim to pursue a contract that could get us some money and possibly some leads into the beast. Perhaps you can try and find some information in the underworld?"
The conman glanced at his companion sidelong.
"That, or I'll get pissed, yeah."
Collab with @MrDidact
