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/qst/ - Quests


Three men had entered the Forest. And three we remained.

I finished washing the armour of the dead. They didn't need it where they were going. The Black Company prides herself in being callously practical. The corpses had been dressed with their cleanest underclothes and buried while the sun was up, when the pale sun managed to thaw the earth to diggable textures. My fingers screamed pins and needles as I warmed them back up by the fire to fight off the cold of the river water.

Sister was foraging for more branches. Firewood was too fancy a term for these spindly things he brought back, but we couldn't chop down trees with just the two of us. Klian was too far gone to help. He remained huddled in that position the entire day. It would take an Ensorcelled to fix him.

It was lonely, going from a largish group with actual conversations, back to this. No longer would we hear Jokk's terrible jokes or Barns' recounting of war stories. Barns was one of the Magal recruits we gained after the near-disaster in Baatur. He'd had many amusing anecdotes regarding horses. They were also the only anecdotes he ever had. The Magal are a hardy people of the north, whose main livelihood consist of taking care of their herds.

I hadn't cared for Noble. Anyone who names himself that is bound to be an utter prick. But he was a brother. They all were.

I folded the mailcoats and halfplates together carefully. They were wet, and so were my hands. The river water was freezing. "Where should I stack these armour, Sergeant?" I asked. A minute passed. "Oh."

I wrapped them up in the roughspun cloaks of brothers dead alone. I was halfway done when Sister came back. "You didn't have to do those."

"I wanted to." Idle hands beget idle minds. And idle minds reminisce.

Sister made an as-you-wish gesture. "Got a good amount. We won't freeze tonight."

I looked at the pitiful bundle. We might not freeze during the night, but they would not last til sunrise. The sun was long gone, winter forcing a quick disappearance. But there was some light.

>"I'll see if I can find more. Keep the fire going."

>It would be too dark by the time I returned. I hoped the wood was enough.
>>
>"I'll see if I can find more. Keep the fire going."
>>
>>3677053
>"I'll see if I can find more. Keep the fire going."
>>
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>>3677068
>>3677070
>"I'll see if I can find more. Keep the fire going."

I did not wait for Sister to stop me. My legs worked fine, and so did my arms. Whatever the effect of temporary corporeal disposession, I'd shaken off the aftereffects completely. Well, not completely. There was Honey. Some nonsense about a girl. It was probably Sister's bastard. "She's yours, Aurelius," Sister had said tiredly. "You know, the girl this tall, blonde hair and auburn eyes like caramel?"

"Blonde hair," I said.

"Yeah."

"Auburn eyes."

"Yes. Do you remember?"

I pointed at Sister's blonde hair and brownish eyes. "I'm not going to play godfather to you and your sister's child, Sister."

"For the last time, she is not my-" he stopped, exasperated that I wouldn't shoulder the burden that was his to bear. "You know what? Forget it. I've wasted enough firewood gathering time as is." Last words we shared before he went off branch-gathering, and I armour-washing.

If he wanted to foist off his progeny on me, that was fine. He could want all he wanted. He would also be disappointed. What had made the boy think I was in any way capable of anything close to being a father? And for an already grown girl! Children eleven to fourteen are at their brattiest stage. I know, because I've been one.

A gust of wind near blew me off my feet. "You sure you can go?" Sister shouted behind me. I gave him a reassuring wave. "Keep the fire going," I repeated confidently.

My feet crunched against the saltlike snow. It was almost spring. Were they ever going to melt?

>Forest Foraging for Firewood DC50
>3d100
>>
Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>3677099
>>
>>3677113
I see we're starting early today
>>
>>3677113
Kill me this quest is cursed
>>
Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>3677099
>>
Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>3677099
>>
>>3677113
>>3677146
>>3677165
>1 Pass
>Critical Fail...

The Forest was quiet. Less oppressive, without any of the directed malevolence I'd felt when we first entered. It was almost pleasant. I stretched my arms as I walked. The movement was helpful against the cold. Monotonous actions gave way to unwanted thoughts. Jocular Jokk. Cheerful Jokk. Irreversibly Husked Jokk.

Damned memories. I wished I could just chuck them all out. His face had been on my mind all day. It is one thing to see a man you know die. Another to see him slip below the clutches of that most terrible of curses. I tried to think of more pleasant matters.

>Hood used to talk about the woods in her home island. Alexandria Eskhata was once renowned for their high quality na'al trees. Not anymore.

>When Theophilos talked about his wife, his eyes gleamed and his voice gained such strength that you almost forgot his ugliness. It warmed my heart.

>Shamaness had recited old tales that she had heard from her grandmother, who had in turn learned of it from her grandmother. I spent hours luxuriating on her lap pillow, watching up as she busied herself with quilting. I remembered the stories.
>>
Is this another memory loss thing? For Fuck sake!
>>
>>3677202
Crit Fails don't mean memory losses, this isn't AmnesiaQuest
>>
>>3677179
>When Theophilos talked about his wife, his eyes gleamed and his voice gained such strength that you almost forgot his ugliness. It warmed my heart.
Pls no more
>>
>>3677179
>>When Theophilos talked about his wife, his eyes gleamed and his voice gained such strength that you almost forgot his ugliness. It warmed my heart.
>>
>>3677179
>>When Theophilos talked about his wife, his eyes gleamed and his voice gained such strength that you almost forgot his ugliness. It warmed my heart.
>>
>>3677179

>When Theophilos talked about his wife, his eyes gleamed and his voice gained such strength that you almost forgot his ugliness. It warmed my heart.

I'm deeply afraid of choosing Hood and something bad happening to her so let's go with ugly our friend
>>
>>3677179
>When Theophilos talked about his wife, his eyes gleamed and his voice gained such strength that you almost forgot his ugliness. It warmed my heart.
>>
>>3677179

>Hood used to talk about the woods in her home island. Alexandria Eskhata was once renowned for their high quality na'al trees. Not anymore.
>>
>>3677213
>>3677215
>>3677227
>>3677236
>>3677244
>When Theophilos talked about his wife, his eyes gleamed and his voice gained such strength that you almost forgot his ugliness. It warmed my heart.

How could I describe Theophilos? He was like any other man, except ugly. Arms strong enough to easily swipe his heavy pike like a bamboo stick. A shock of reddish hair and a beard to match. A friend.

He was the first person to befriend me in the platoon. I suppose being an outcast himself gave him a unique paradigm. Golden eyes such as mine were disliked by Sinaeans in general, but it was not a hatred confined to them. For my part, I didn't discriminate. I had few friends as is. Good looks did not equate to a kindly soul. My life in the Capital had taught me that much.

"She is the most beautiful woman in the world," Theophilos had begun. That was how he always began. Sergeant would groan, then. He'd heard this a thousand times now, ever since that Magal girl and Theophilos got officially together. She was a good archer, and had joined the Company as well to follow her bizarre but wholesome love.

"I love her arms." She was an archer. She had strong arms. "And her hands. They aren't silky and unworked. She has the hands of someone who works for her meal. And that is what I like most of her. Such honest hands."

Love makes poets of us all. His happy smiles almost made him look handsome. Watching his joy was our joy. It brightened the platoon tents.

He didn't see her often. She was billeted with the archers. She had been with the rest of the Black Company when we left. That dampened the warmth from the memory.

"Shadows linger in the dark," I hummed some nonsense verse to distract myself. "When leaves fall..."

>Critical Failure

I stopped. I'd definitely heard something. Clammy fingers nervously clenched sword and shield. A canine sniffle.

Aurelius, old boy, you've gotten yourself in a real pickle now. I turned around, knowing what I would find. It was the she-wolf. And this time, she wasn't carrying gifts.

>"Good girl," I said, pulling my hand away from my weapon. She had treated us well last time. I was willing to hear her out, at least. Wait, could divine wolves talk?

>"I'm a happily married man," I told her. Somehow, I don't think she cared about that.
>>
>>3677301
>"Good girl," I said, pulling my hand away from my weapon. She had treated us well last time. I was willing to hear her out, at least. Wait, could divine wolves talk?
>>
>>3677301
>"Good girl," I said, pulling my hand away from my weapon. She had treated us well last time. I was willing to hear her out, at least. Wait, could divine wolves talk?
>>
>>3677301
>"I'm a happily married man," I told her. Somehow, I don't think she cared about that.
>>
>>3677301

>"I'm a happily married man," I told her. Somehow, I don't think she cared about that.


I was really worried sonething woyld happen to Hood if we chose her
>>
>>3677301
>>"Good girl," I said, pulling my hand away from my weapon. She had treated us well last time. I was willing to hear her out, at least. Wait, could divine wolves talk?
>>
>>3677301
>>"I'm a happily married man," I told her. Somehow, I don't think she cared about that.
>>
>>3677315
Now is not the time to worry, doctor! That comes later.
>>
>>3677332
UUUU
>>
>>3677301
>"Good girl," I said, pulling my hand away from my weapon. She had treated us well last time. I was willing to hear her out, at least. Wait, could divine wolves talk?
We will rebuild Rome and become the next god emperor
>>
>>3677332
Lets hope Sarge was wrong and she doesn't want dick, blood will be bad too, but cheating on the wives is a no no
>>
>>3677338
>>3677316
>>3677309
>>3677308
>"Good girl," I said, pulling my hand away from my weapon. She had treated us well last time. I was willing to hear her out, at least. Wait, could divine wolves talk?

"Can you talk?" I asked. She blinked. That was a no. "Look, I'm flattered at the attention, I really am. But I'm already spoken for. You'll have to find another husband."

If dogs could look insulted, this was the expression they would make. The giant she-wolf looked positively affronted. She made an approximation of a headshake, and then she sighed.

That in turn offended me. "What, you think I would be an unreliable mate?" I was half ready to show her otherwise. I'd never gotten a complaint regarding my sword skill under the sheet.

She sniffed disdainfully. That was just me assigning human traits to an animal. She lifted her nose up in the air, and trotted away. Nope. Too human. Divinity does strange things to animals. She looked back once, pawing the ground impatiently, went forward a bit more, and then stopped to look back again.

>"It's getting dark. And my mother told me not to follow strangers."

>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.
>>
>>3677349
>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.

Lets not piss off the forest spirit/god
>>
>>3677349

>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.
>>
>>3677349
>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.
It's the mother wolf that raised Romulus and Remus, it's symbolism for Aurelius' true Roman heritage from being descended from Caesar
>>
>>3677349
>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.
>>
>>3677349
>>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.
>>
Wanted to get a decent choice-option-thing to leave overnight but my brain is malfunctioning with fatigue, will have to sleep for now

Really should pick more convenient start times
>>
No problem man, see ya next time.
>>
>>3677349
>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.
>>
>>3677349

>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.
>>
>>3677349
>>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.
>>
>>3677053
>"Where should I stack these armour, Sergeant?" I asked. A minute passed. "Oh."

Fug, my heart

>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.
>>
>>3679170
Not confirming the kill on the powerful sorcerer easily the dumbest thing we've done. Most of our luck is just shit for rolls.
>>
>>3679185
I was voting for it, then people decided to try to help Jokk. I'm not saying that it was a bad choice thematically but tactically, when we're the only one who can sense magic it was pretty dumb

Especially when you remember all the shit the Limper and Soul Catcher went through
>>
>>3677352
>>3677355
>>3677358
>>3677361
>>3677376
>>3677637
>>3677920
>>3678644
>>3679170
>I followed, as you do when giant god-wolves appear in the middle of nowhere to lead you to god knows where. Literally, in this case.

The Wolf stalked forward without a sound, as gracefully as you please, giant paws not even disturbing the thin dust of snow. I stumbled unsteadily after. The trees were growing thicker together now, if such a thing was possible. Brush limbs scratched at my face, drawing blood.

She was leading me to a light. I could see fire between the black trunks. Nothing like the cool blue witchfires that Throne had conjured. These was a real fire, a big fire, built by people who didn't mind being seen. I saw yellow headbands, turned a pinkish orange in the firelight.

It was a Rebel patrol. We were saved.

"Took you long enough," Sister said when I retraced my steps. "Where were you? And where's the firewood?"

I looked down. My hands were empty. In all the wolf-following and forest-traipsing, I'd neglected to collect firewood.

Forest Foraging for Firewood: FAILED

---

"Didn't think Throne could be taken," Henn said sadly. "He kept us safe from the Foresters, that he did. Now that he's gone, I don't know how we'll manage."

She'd told us their names, all five of them. The usual number within a Rebel patrol. I forgot what most of the names the moment I heard them. She was a motherly woman, who probably was a mother. "Three grandchildren," she said happily. I hadn't asked. "So I know how to deal with shocked people. People die all the time on the trail! Oh yes. My fifth son, why, he died of the cold one night. Sneezing as lively as you'd want one evening, dead the next."

"You didn't splash him with ice water-" I began.

"And to think, I even splashed him with a bucket of ice-cold river water. Nothing like poison to kill poison, eh doctor dear?"

I sighed. "I'm not a doctor. I'm a Scrivener." The Rebel are not well known for their advanced medical knowledge.

"Same thing, innit? A man of letters! How grand." She liked to keep herself busy. While we were warming ourselves in their vastly superior fire (of the bon variety), she was warming up some sort of stew they had left over.

Lo and behold, the rank and file of the Rebel. Well-meaning, motivated, and utterly clueless. No wonder the Sixteen were too busy to actually do damage against the Empire, herding this lot. She reminded me of Sister. If those two got their heads together to write down the secrets to eternal cheeriness, it might do some Alexandrians good.

But there was a certain charm here. A homeliness I'd never felt in my home. I could do with a little less of the unintentional infanticide by ice water, but they were such genuine people.
>>
>>3679994

>"It is hardly the same thing. Doctors get their degrees from the scholae. Us Scriveners are just battlefield surgeons." Scriveners quibble. It is in our blood.

>That didn't excuse the casual murder. "Please, never ever dump ice water on sick people again." It didn't take schola education to know that such homeopathic remedies were madness.
>>
>>3680007

>That didn't excuse the casual murder. "Please, never ever dump ice water on sick people again." It didn't take schola education to know that such homeopathic remedies were madness.

We can at least try to do some good.
>>
>>3680047
Before I forget, how's Raven? Still out?
>>
>>3680052
Like the proverbial father who went out for some smokes fifteen years ago
>>
>>3680007

>That didn't excuse the casual murder. "Please, never ever dump ice water on sick people again." It didn't take schola education to know that such homeopathic remedies were madness.
>>
>>3680007
>That didn't excuse the casual murder. "Please, never ever dump ice water on sick people again." It didn't take schola education to know that such homeopathic remedies were madness.
>>
>>3680007
>>That didn't excuse the casual murder. "Please, never ever dump ice water on sick people again." It didn't take schola education to know that such homeopathic remedies were madness.
>>
>>3680047
>>3680080
>>3680092
>>3680100
>That didn't excuse the casual murder. "Please, never ever dump ice water on sick people again." It didn't take schola education to know that such homeopathic remedies were madness.

Madness. Like rising up against the Empire.

The Rebel are a strange bunch. They like to talk about how they will overthrow the Empire. Destroy it unto its foundations, they say, and build it anew. A shining republic of freedom and the will of the people. Hogwash. I've been alive long enough to know that there is no ideal government. Not one that lasts. And the Empire, for all its faults, had maintained its borders for thousands of years. That is the problem with nice people. They can't maintain a nice government.

Looking at the group, I hardly thought them capable of threatening the Capital. If the Empire fell, it was going to be from its inner rot, not some sorcerers and their pets. Criminals didn't join the Rebel. Idealists and pacifists did. I wasn't against pacifism per se, but someone had to hold the sword to stop thieves and murderers. Even Rebel idealism hadn't prevented them from taking up arms against the legions. Just look at Raven.

They didn't know we'd killed our way into the Forest, and destroyed Throne himself. Sister had enough wit not to babble, and Klian was more or less unintelligible, for now. I wondered how Raven would take to losing two of the most important people in her life to our hands.

We reached Rebel camp two days later with minimal fuss, aside from Henn's stubbornness regarding the efficacy of her grandmum's remedies (three parts inane, seven parts homicidal). It took a lot of words to break that. Like all simple folk, she had a distrust for long words, which meant I had to distend sentences with short, bite-sized words.

But no jumping shadowcats or dancing green men. I could live with that.

I didn't feel the kind of heart-flutter I thought I would when I finally arrived. There were many brothers of the black here, conspicuous with their black attire compared to the Rebel brown and green. Most of them were wounded, one way or another. There were many grave markers to the side. Were all of them Husked? Or was Jokk done so badly because he died close to the center? It might even have been the vine he was killed with.

I saw faces that I'd seen but could not name. I saw faces I could name. None of them seemed to recognise me.

>First things first. I had to report in to Captain.

>I looked around to see if I could find Senior Scrivener Xavier. Most of our order would be administering to the dead or treating the wounded. No time for scrivening now.
>>
>>3680208
>>First things first. I had to report in to Captain.
>>
>>3680208

>First things first. I had to report in to Captain.

Get to know how things are and explain what happened to the mage, with luck we can bring our platoon around.

I guess Travian will be the new sarge since he is our corporal and then he can choose someone to help him
He will be sad his Sarge/Aurelius ship will never sail now.
>>
>>3680208
>First things first. I had to report in to Captain.
>>
>>3680208
>>First things first. I had to report in to Captain.
>>
>>3680208
>>First things first. I had to report in to Captain.
>>
>>3680213
>>3680230
>>3680240
>>3680289
>>3680310
We Scriveners have a dark reputation. No Scrivener ever brings good news. I think it was the Captain before Captain who uttered that phrase. We kept it in because it was suitably dramatic. And he wasn't wrong.

Captain was on her bed, lying on her side. She was faced against the tent wall. Her blue hair pooled listlessly, drooping onto the floor.

Halstad announced, "Scrivener Aurelius to see you, Captain." He looked like he was enjoying the authority of being the guy who introduced people to Captain.

She remained motionless, but she spoke. "Thank you, interim Lieutenant." That hurt to hear. Halstad was a brother, but one of the snobbish ones. He was the Sergeant of the 1st Castellans, a named platoon of considerable prestige. Noble education put him ahead in martial prowess, and he and his mates made sure to make the rest of us know that whenever he could.

But more than that, it felt wrong to hear the title Lieutenant on someone else other than Lieutenant.

"Your wish is my command." Smarmy fuck. The ambush that nearly destroyed the Company hadn't robbed him of his beard wax. More's the pity. He looked at me haughtily, his pale-gold eyes almost gleaming in the unlit tent's interior. "Speak your piece, Aurelius. And make it quick. Captain has other things to do." That was patentedly false. Even from her back alone, I could see that she was in no mood for "other things".

"Leave us," Captain said. Voice as thin as a reed. Interim-Lieutenant Halstat pretended as if he hadn't heard her.

>"You heard the boss. Skeddadle." He might be the next Captain after Captain died. I hardly cared.

>I didn't say anything. I knew Halstat was next in line to the black throne of Captaincy. What's more, he was one of the mad men that actually wanted it. I didn't want to piss the guy off.
>>
>>3680347
>"You heard the boss. Skeddadle." He might be the next Captain after Captain died. I hardly cared.
>>
>>3680347
>"You heard the boss. Skeddadle." He might be the next Captain after Captain died. I hardly cared.
>>
>>3680347
>>"You heard the boss. Skeddadle." He might be the next Captain after Captain died. I hardly cared
>>
>>3680347
>>"You heard the boss. Skeddadle." He might be the next Captain after Captain died. I hardly cared.
>>
>>3680347
>>"You heard the boss. Skeddadle." He might be the next Captain after Captain died. I hardly cared.
>>
>>3680366
>>3680377
>>3680389
>>3680476
>>3680480
>"You heard the boss. Skeddadle." He might be the next Captain after Captain died. I hardly cared.

He gave me the stink-eye. "You know, Scriveners are technically Troopers in rank."

"And Captain outranks interim Lieutenants," I replied. Inside, I was shaking with fatigue and fear. That Henn had been a slave-driver to get us this speedily to the Rebel camp. "I guess you didn't hear her properly from all the shouting you boys do in the stromtrooper corps. She said, 'Leave us.'"

"Fucking Capitalists," I muttered after he exited. Even among Alexandrians, there are ranks. Those who were sent down to the provinces were considered the lesser than those who remained in the Capital. I guessed I was technically a Capitalist myself. Nobody had to know. Being Alexandrian was annoying enough.

That amused Captain enough to get her to sit up straight. "You're Alexandrian yourself." A ghost of a smile played on her thin lips. She hadn't been eating well. No sleep either, from the twitching fingers. She was a mess.

"I'm not like him," I said tartly. "It's been a long time since I was in the Capital. The same goes to Halstat. He should stop acting as if he's some hot-shot player in the Great Game." That's who Halstat reminded me of. The players of the Great Game circled around the empty Dragon Throne every year, snapping at each other before anyone could gather enough political capital to be declared the new Emperor. It was the reason that chair had remained empty ever since the first and last Emperor's alleged death. They all implicated each other in this or that petty crimes before anyone got to sit on it.

So eager to be on top. Ambition for the sake of ambition. It was such a waste of the lives of otherwise intelligent people. Every anniversary of the Emperor's disappearance ended with an evening of executions by the censores for failing the Game.

"So rebellious, Aurelius. You should join the Rebel."

"I'm nowhere near enough an idealist for that."

"I wonder..." There was nothing to wonder. I am a practical man with practical wants. Let other men with cleaner conscience take the fight to the Empire and their purge-happy legions. I had a life to live. I wasn't a bloody hero.

I didn't say any of that. Instead, I said: "Lieutenant lives."

Captain looked at me funny. Like she was a puppy opening its eyes for the first time. "Yesugei?"

"Also alive. There were three of us who came here to check for survivors. We left the rest behind in Bath."

"Three."

"Sergeant, myself, and Sister. Sergeant is dead." It hadn't felt real until now. Sergeant was dead.

"Trevain was long overdue for promotion," Captain said calmly. She began straightening her hair. Just as my scolding of Henn was a distraction, the news I brought was hers. "Is Lieutenant fit for command once more?"
>>
>>3680486

>"He was comatose when I left," I said reluctantly. "The worst had passed, but I can't be certain of the state of his mind."

>"You're asking me if a man in a coma might be better than Halstat." Pause. "Fifty-fifty. Don't ask me to choose."

>"Oh yeah, definitely," I lied. "Yes. No problem with Lieutenant. No sirree. Fit as a fiddle, that man."
>>
>>3680486
>"You're asking me if a man in a coma might be better than Halstat." Pause. "Fifty-fifty. Don't ask me to choose."
>>
>>3680486
>>"You're asking me if a man in a coma might be better than Halstat." Pause. "Fifty-fifty. Don't ask me to choose."
>>
>>3680493
>>"You're asking me if a man in a coma might be better than Halstat." Pause. "Fifty-fifty. Don't ask me to choose."
>>
>>3680493

>"You're asking me if a man in a coma might be better than Halstat." Pause. "Fifty-fifty. Don't ask me to choose."
>>
>>3680493
>>"You're asking me if a man in a coma might be better than Halstat." Pause. "Fifty-fifty. Don't ask me to choose."
>>
>>3680493
>"You're asking me if a man in a coma might be better than Halstat." Pause. "Fifty-fifty. Don't ask me to choose."
>>
>>3680493
>>"You're asking me if a man in a coma might be better than Halstat." Pause. "Fifty-fifty. Don't ask me to choose."
>>
>>3680511
>>3680514
>>3680530
>>3680534
>>3680550
>>3680560
>>3680583
>>"You're asking me if a man in a coma might be better than Halstat." Pause. "Fifty-fifty. Don't ask me to choose."

"Such animosity for our hardworking Captain-in-training," she laughed. It was a hollow sound. "Lieutenant Halstat was the reason we had survivors. He led the breaking charge that opened a way to escape."

"That's his job." Stormtroopers like Halstat's 1st Castellans were supposed to break the enemy lines, all plated up as they were.

"And he did it admirably, whereas I failed." Her hand stilled. Her face was ashen. She was more vulnerable than I had seen. "I froze that day, Aurelius. I had no plans on what to do after I sold the Black Company out for a petty revenge. So I couldn't think of any orders when we were ambushed. I am a traitor."

"Don't say that," I snapped. Walls have ears. That was information that should not ever be said, public or private.

"It's true." She insisted. "I led us all to that death trap with the Magal, just to satisfy my own private oath. Sergeant deserved to get his platoon named for what you troopers did. He would have been so happy. And I couldn't grant him even that."

Of course we couldn't get our platoon named for what we did with the Magal. That would draw questions. Inquiries.

>"You've done more than that. You've kept the Company together." Halstat was too contentious a personage to unify what remained of the Black Company. I think. I had to believe that there remained somewhat normal people still, among the survivors.

>"Don't undersell yourself. We wouldn't have followed if we didn't believe in you." Well, I hadn't believed in her. Why did I follow? Maybe I had a death wish.

>"Sergeant wanted you and the Company safe, more than anything." I tried not to feel scummy about using Sergeant's name in this. He would have been happy with keeping Captain safe over getting his platoon named, right?
>>
>>3680603

>"You've done more than that. You've kept the Company together." Halstat was too contentious a personage to unify what remained of the Black Company. I think. I had to believe that there remained somewhat normal people still, among the survivors.
>>
>>3680603
>>"You've done more than that. You've kept the Company together." Halstat was too contentious a personage to unify what remained of the Black Company. I think. I had to believe that there remained somewhat normal people still, among the survivors.
>>
>>3680603
>>"You've done more than that. You've kept the Company together." Halstat was too contentious a personage to unify what remained of the Black Company. I think. I had to believe that there remained somewhat normal people still, among the survivors.
>>
>>3680603
>>"Don't undersell yourself. We wouldn't have followed if we didn't believe in you." Well, I hadn't believed in her. Why did I follow? Maybe I had a death wish.
>>
>>3680603
>"You've done more than that. You've kept the Company together." Halstat was too contentious a personage to unify what remained of the Black Company. I think. I had to believe that there remained somewhat normal people still, among the survivors.
>>
>>3680603
>"Don't undersell yourself. We wouldn't have followed if we didn't believe in you." Well, I hadn't believed in her. Why did I follow? Maybe I had a death wish.
>>
>>3680603
>"You've done more than that. You've kept the Company together." Halstat was too contentious a personage to unify what remained of the Black Company. I think. I had to believe that there remained somewhat normal people still, among the survivors.
>>
Hey guys, I have a feeling that if we try any of these responses, they're just going to be stonewalled due to her thought process just marinating in guilt. We may need to come at this from a different angle.
>>
>>3680742
Its just very fortunate that we decided to put Lt. Under instead of pressing him for answers, that way he can probably recover and keep this power hungry son of a bitch from taking over
>>
>>3680742
Coming up with a custom response is allowed
>>
>>3680603
>"You're still alive Captain, you and three hundred other brothers, yes we're reduced but so what? We're Black Company. Always outnumbered, never outfought. And it's not over Captain, not while any of us black hearted bastards live."

I think this is a good reply??

>"The Compny above all, it wasn't Sarge's last words but he's due some embelishment...right?"

maybe throw this in?
>>
>>3680603
"Sergeant wanted you and the Company safe, more than anything." I tried not to feel scummy about using Sergeant's name in this. He would have been happy with keeping Captain safe over getting his platoon named, right?
>>
>>3680613
>>3680619
>>3680625
>>3680641
>>3680718
>"You've done more than that. You've kept the Company together." Halstat was too contentious a personage to unify what remained of the Black Company. I think. I had to believe that there remained somewhat normal people still, among the survivors.

"For one reason - revenge." She saw the disappointment in my eyes. She smiled sadly. "I no longer have the necessary drive, Aurelius. I never wanted this position in the first place. I suffered it," she said bitterly. Her once vibrant eyes were glass. "I wish to retire with Yesugei."

"Two feet first," I reminded her.

"Dead, if need be."

This woman was depressed. Captain depressed. A scenario as unthinkable as my father being a competent guardian was unfolding before my eyes. She deflated. "Halstat wants the spot. He can take it."

"This is unprecedented." Every single Company Captain had been made one against his will. I did say that ours was a dysfunctional family. But it helped to have someone who hated wielding power to wield said power. Captains negotiated the contracts, oversaw our deployment, and made sure things ran smoothly.

A Captain who wanted to be Captain was like me doing anything brave. A misshapen abomination that leads to nothing good. I said as much. Captain shook her head. "You are plenty brave, golden Scrivener. You just don't know it."

She didn't need to insult me. "Bravery is for idiots. I am a pragmatist who does what he can for survival."

"Yet you joined the Black Company." She had me there. "I have no one else to rely on now. Lieutenant is gone. Yesugei is far away. No one, Aurelius. It is lonely to be me. I need a Lieutenant who is willing to be Captain if something is to happen to me."

This is why I never understood those rabid Alexandrians who wanted to be Emperor. To hold power is to self-segregate. And humans are not meant to be alone.

>"You aren't alone. Three hundred brothers remain, Zhukova. Brothers. We are Black Company, and that means family. Remember our motto?" Always outnumbered, never outfought. I had to bring back some of her spirit. Her mind was made up. So was mine. [Dice for the Dice Gods]

>"Halstat... he will make do for now, as Lieutenant. Dark Mother have mercy upon us all." Mars have mercy upon us all. [Accept]

>"Really? Halstat? Of all the people, you had to pick- fine. Fine, I see where this is going. Fucking fine. I volunteer as a fucking candidate, you miserable woman." Why me? That is what I want to know. WHY ME? "But only as interim-Lieutenant. You are staying as Captain." [Suffering]
>>
>>3680913
>"You aren't alone. Three hundred brothers remain, Zhukova. Brothers. We are Black Company, and that means family. Remember our motto?" Always outnumbered, never outfought. I had to bring back some of her spirit. Her mind was made up. So was mine. [Dice for the Dice Gods]
>>
>>3680913
>"You aren't alone. Three hundred brothers remain, Zhukova. Brothers. We are Black Company, and that means family. Remember our motto?" Always outnumbered, never outfought. I had to bring back some of her spirit. Her mind was made up. So was mine. [Dice for the Dice Gods]

Nuh uh, you don't get to choose how you go Captain
>>
>>3680913
>>"You aren't alone. Three hundred brothers remain, Zhukova. Brothers. We are Black Company, and that means family. Remember our motto?" Always outnumbered, never outfought. I had to bring back some of her spirit. Her mind was made up. So was mine. [Dice for the Dice Gods]
>>
>>3680964
Why in the fuck does my ID keep changing, is it because I'm on mobile?
>>
>>3680913
>>"You aren't alone. Three hundred brothers remain, Zhukova. Brothers. We are Black Company, and that means family. Remember our motto?" Always outnumbered, never outfought. I had to bring back some of her spirit. Her mind was made up. So was mine. [Dice for the Dice Gods]
>>
>>3680968
Probably
>>3680913
>Bitch slap her
>"You aren't alone. Three hundred brothers remain, Zhukova. Brothers. We are Black Company, and that means family. Remember our motto?" Always outnumbered, never outfought. I had to bring back some of her spirit. Her mind was made up. So was mine. [Dice for the Dice Gods]
>>
>>3680991
>>3680913
Might lose our life, but if it's for the company then so be it. Prince Halp
Supporting
>>
>>3680913

>"Really? Halstat? Of all the people, you had to pick- fine. Fine, I see where this is going. Fucking fine. I volunteer as a fucking candidate, you miserable woman." Why me? That is what I want to know. WHY ME? "But only as interim-Lieutenant. You are staying as Captain." [Suffering]

I'm outvoted but just to be contrarian and go full Croaker
>>
File: Your daily reminder.png (757 KB, 1111x645)
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757 KB PNG
>>3681033
Gotta stick with the classics Anon.
>>
>>3680968
Moble dose that also if your changeing areas as well.
>>
>>3680913

>"Really? Halstat? Of all the people, you had to pick- fine. Fine, I see where this is going. Fucking fine. I volunteer as a fucking candidate, you miserable woman." Why me? That is what I want to know. WHY ME? "But only as interim-Lieutenant. You are staying as Captain." [Suffering]
>>
>>3680958
>>3680964
>>3680965
>>3680979
>>3680991
>>3681011

A Contest of Wills!

Scrivener Aurelius, in the mind of Captain Zhukova

Brave +5DC - [No I'm not!]
Strong Willpower +10DC - [Stop it!]
Conviction +10DC - [There was no one else that could replace Captain.]
Oration +10DC - [Mentioning the motto probably helped.]
Alexandrian -10DC - [Our accursed eyes, marking us as the descendants of the Great Liar.]
Earnest +5DC - [I wasn't lying this time.]
War Hero +10DC - [This is ridiculous. The Magal War never even happened.]
Polygamist -15DC - [...things spiralled out of control.]
Responsible +10DC - [Any other men would have done the same.]
Caretaker of Honey +20DC - [Who the hell is Honey?]
LOCKED

+55DC

VS

Captain Zhukova's Determination to Quit

Guilt +15DC
GUILT +30DC
Memories of the Dead +10DC
Traumatised +10DC
Responsible -10DC
Tired +10DC
Sense of Duty -15DC
Captain -20DC
Zhukova +10DC
Brotherhood of the Black Company -20DC
Apathy +20DC

+40DC

>Persuasion DC65
>3d100
>>
Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>3681201
>>
Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>3681201
>>
Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>3681201
wew
>>
Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>3681201
>>
Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>3681201
DICE
>>
>>3681201
Well holy shit, guess Captain does get to choose how she goes
>>
Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>
I told you guys this quest is cursed.
>>
Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>3681201
>>
>>3681240
>>Suffer
>>
>>3681208
>>3681212
>>3681225
E for Effort

So the choice continues. Do you [Accept], or [Suffer]?
>>
>>3681249
Course it is

We're Black Company
>>
Rolled 48, 43, 27, 99, 90, 60, 11, 36, 44, 98, 25, 66, 36, 71, 28 = 782 (15d100)

>>3681249
Clearly we just need to toss out the rolls.
>>
>>3681240
Suffer route boys just accept it.

> Suffer
>>
>>3681256
>[Suffer]

We go full Croaker, now to comission some scary armor
>>
>>3681256
>[Suffer]
>>
>>3681256
>[Suffer]
>>
>>3681256
>[Suffer]
Being Aurelius is suffering
>>
>>3681240
Suffer
>>
>>3681262
>>3681303
>>3681277
>>3681272
>>3681263
>[Suffering]

Halstat. Of all the people in the Company, she was going to rely on that blueblooded megalomaniac. I had no quarrel with the man as a soldier. He was fantastic in the battlefield, lopping off heads left and right. That man and his elite stormtroopers formed the armoured fist that smashed through the toughest, meanest sons of bitches that the Enemy had to throw at us, whoever they happened to be at the time.

Good warrior, Halstat. Not so much as a leader.

He thought too highly of himself. Often were the nights we Scriveners would have to burn lamp oils in to care for the wounded whenever he started fights. What's more, the demented man had a thing for ritualised duels. He belonged to one of the warrior lodges within the Black Company, one that worshipped our tutelary deity with far more zeal than the average brothers in black. The Black Company had been originally a religious force that swept out of mysterious Khatovar, under the banner of an equally mysterious Dark Mother.

The Black Company had its origins in myths and superstitions. So what? That didn't mean he could go around beating up brothers that offended his sight nearly to the death.

"You just had to pick Halstat. Halstat the Heavy-Handed. Halstat the-" I choked. Incredulity overwhelmed me. The words that came next came from a place of madness in my head. "Fine. FINE. I see where this is going. So you need someone to throw their hat in the ring against Halstat? You'll have it. I volunteer as a candidate, you miserable woman."

Why me? A question that frequently occurred in my mind. Why me?

Captain straightened up. "We will have to prepare for the duel, of course. Halstat will demand satisfaction once he learns of your candidacy. What armour do you use? Do you still have that old sword of yours?"

>"This was a trap." In that moment, I hated Captain with all my being.

>"It's an old family heirloom," I said defensively.

>I was going to die. "I'm going to die."
>>
>>3681333
>"It's an old family heirloom," I said defensively.

We knew this was a trap, no need to dumbly mumble it.
>>
>>3681333
>"This was a trap." In that moment, I hated Captain with all my being.
>>
>>3681333
>"It's an old family heirloom," I said defensively.
First, presumably out of shock/reflex
Then Wait a damn minute

>"This was a trap." In that moment, I hated Captain with all my being.
>>
>>3681333
>"It's an old family heirloom," In that moment, I hated Captain with all my being.
Best of both worlds.
>>
>>3681333
>"This was a trap." In that moment, I hated Captain with all my being.
Survived two times almost getting Husked just to die from hands of this shithead great
>>
>>3681375

+1
>>
>>3681333
>"It's an old family heirloom," I said defensively.
>>
>>3681333
>>"This was a trap." In that moment, I hated Captain with all my being.
>>
>>3681333
>>"This was a trap." In that moment, I hated Captain with all my being.
>>
>>3681371
>>3681427
>>3681662
>>3681903
>>"This was a trap." In that moment, I hated Captain with all my being.

"Welcome to the road of officership, Aurelius." She grinned mischievously, shedding any pretense of apathy. Her glassy eyes burned their trademark ice-blue once more. No, that wasn't quite right. She had been apathetic. Now, she was returning to the role given to her. Maybe that little speech did have an effect. I just didn't expect it would blow up in my face so hard.

There had to be limits to my destruction. "I'm only applying for the interim Lieutenancy. Lieutenant is alive, and I expect he will make a full recovery in time." I could give myself that much credit. Putting him under had been the right choice, medically speaking. It just wasn't the right command decision. But I was not a commander. I was a Scrivener. Healing took precedent.

Or did it? My decision to give him some much needed rest had resulted in complications. Decisions bring consequences. I was not ready for consequences. I didn't even want to decide things. That was the reason I joined the Black Company in the first place. It is the common grunt's unique privilege to be able to mutter vindictives toward their commander without having to think about alternatives. A simple life. A decisionless life.

Challenging Halstat had been a decision. I cursed myself silently all the while Captain busied herself, pulling out various suits of armour from her considerable war-drobe. "Too heavy," she murmured, putting back a wicked looking set of black spikes and horns which reminded me of Lieutenant's terror armour. She traced her hands over a silvery-white suit of complete plate that looked suspiciously like a genuine Stradon, a famous blacksmith who had been in the employ of Ethnarch Shiu during the Emperor's Unification Campaign way back when. The Emperor had won. Ethnarch Shiu preferred to play dress-up more than dependable armour. "Too angelic. Do you have preferences as to your armour?"

>"Simple is best. I want to actually be able to fight in the armour I'm wearing."

>"If I am to die, I shall die fabulously. Do your worst."
>>
>>3681249
>Joins a once-murdercult spawned by a dark goddess to bring murder and mayhem into the world
>called BLACK COMPANY
I have a feeling the gods aren't exactly happy about its continued existence
>>
>>3683066
>>"Simple is best. I want to actually be able to fight in the armour I'm wearing."
>>
>>3683066
>>"Simple is best. I want to actually be able to fight in the armour I'm wearing."
>>
>>3683066

>"Simple is best. I want to actually be able to fight in the armour I'm wearing."
>>
>>3683066

>"Simple is best. I want to actually be able to fight in the armour I'm wearing."
>>
Current setup (updated):

Black Company Chainmail shirt [Damaged] (+5DC) (+7AV) - Standard issue for members of the Black Company, who can afford to give their recruits decent armour unlike some disreputable mercenary companies. Chainmail is versatile, allowing for size adjustment for different users unlike plate, and easier to maintain than other metal armours. This covers the torso and the upper arms. This particular chainmail has suffered much damage.

Iron buckler (+5DC) (+5AV) - Expensive and long-lasting, bucklers compensate their smaller coverage with their hardy material, often being made entirely of metal unlike larger shields. Aurelius' personal equipment.

Gladius hispaniensis (+10DC) (2 Success = Bleed) (+1 Reroll) - "Hispanic Sword". Supposedly the very sword the Emperor once used during his Wars of Unification. It is the one heirloom Aurelius kept that was given to him by his father. The hilt shows indentation from an unnaturally strong grip from a past user which strangely fits snugly with your hands. It is clearly a very old sword, but careful maintainance and good quality materials as well as solid craftsmanship and the simplicity of the sword (no bells and whistles here) has kept it in an excellent condition.

Roundhelm (+10AV) - A simple round helmet. It protects your noggin'.
>>
>>3683154
Lets change that chainmail then?
>>
>>3683085
>>3683102
>>3683119
>>3683151
>>"Simple is best. I want to actually be able to fight in the armour I'm wearing."

"I wasn't talking about how you would look. Then again, most of these are parade armours..."

I rather liked my current getup. Sure, my standard-issue chainmail was busted with the multiple attacks I'd experienced, and the buckler could use re-hammering. But they were simple, comfortable, and I had gotten used to them. I wasn't going to wear some ridiculous muscle cuirass that showcased abdominal muscles I didn't even have.

"Just give me a replacement for my chainshirt," I said. "This one's seen too many stabbings." I thought back to the stomach wound that a nameless Rebel had inflicted.

Captain raised an eyebrow. "No plate?"

"They wouldn't fit." Anything as fancy as plate armour was usually customised to the wearer.

"If you're certain." She looked uncertain. "Are you sure you want to go against Halstat with that shortsword of yours?"

>"I prefer shortswords." More mobile. Not having so much reach had its advantages, especially when stabbing.

>"I guess I could swap out for a pike," I said reluctantly. Duels like these usually required the combatants to have only one main weapon. The gladius didn't fall under the category of a dagger, and would not be allowed as a sidearm.
>>
>>3683159
which one has a bigger bonus and which one we can use better?
>>
>>3683175
I'm split on whether I'm being too limited in letting anons pick equipment they might like to use...

Would you guys like to choose equipment after I write them out, or just continue with the narrative? I'm not very knowledgeable about armours, mind, so it won't be as detailed as ForgottenQM's. I'll probably port things over from his equipment list.
>>
>>3683159
>>"I prefer shortswords." More mobile. Not having so much reach had its advantages, especially when stabbing.
>>
>>3683175
Black Company Pike (+15DC) (+2 Rerolls at start of battle) - Standard-issue among Black Company Pikemen. Long reach at the expense of a shield and difficulty in close-quarter combat. But if they never reach you in the first place...
>>
>>3683159

>"I prefer shortswords." More mobile. Not having so much reach had its advantages, especially when stabbing.

Keep the sword
>>
>>3683159
>>"I prefer shortswords." More mobile. Not having so much reach had its advantages, especially when stabbing.
>>
>>3683159

>"I prefer shortswords." More mobile. Not having so much reach had its advantages, especially when stabbing.
>>
>>3683236
>>3683226
>>3683204
>>3683185
>>"I prefer shortswords." More mobile. Not having so much reach had its advantages, especially when stabbing.

So there I was, maneuvered into fighting for a position I would never have wanted in a hundred years, the very morning after meeting with Captain. I took solace in the fact that it was a temporary arrangement. Lee was a capable healer. He could take care of Lieutenant.

"So the Scrivener dreams of becoming a Captain." Halstat spat on the ground. "I don't normally go for bookies. But I'm willing to make an exception." He was fully dressed in his panoply of steel. Stormtroopers got the best, and Halstat was the best of the best. Scars crisscrossing his stony visage spoke to his skill in surviving battles. And he had been trained even before coming to the Company. His greatsword looked like it could cut the head off an elephant. I gulped.

"First blood?" I asked feebly. Laughter rang from the stormtroopers of Halstat's platoon, who were watching around the ring.

He grinned, feral. "Oh, there will be blood. I've been wondering just how well you regenerated compared to purebloods." He meant inbreds. I was technically half-Alexandrian. My mother was a princess from the Peninsular Kingdoms. It is where I got my lying tongue from. Wedged between the Empire and the gods-protected islands of Wae, you learn to nudge the truth a little to continue surviving.

Raven-black hair set me apart from the usual Alexandrians, who were in reality one giant family fucking with each other since the days of the Emperor. Keeping things in the blood, you see. My father couldn't even manage to do that. What a failure he had been.

"My mother was actually a princess from the Peninsular Kingdoms," I told Halstat. I hoped it might stop him from killing me outright. He had a thing for nobility.

The stormtrooper sergeant and interim-Lieutenant hacked out a derisive cough. "You said your mother was a chambermaid."

"Oh." Weeks of honesty had rusted my ability to lie. "Wait, maybe I'd been lying then!" Halstat's reply was to charge forward in all his metallic glory.

>I kicked the earth to slow his charge, hoping some of the dirt would get through his eye slits. [Dirty Fighting]

>I stood silently to meet his charge. Let the bigger man waste his breath to come to me. [Legionarius]
>>
>>3683263
>I stood silently to meet his charge. Let the bigger man waste his breath to come to me. [Legionarius]
>>
>>3683263

>I kicked the earth to slow his charge, hoping some of the dirt would get through his eye slits. [Dirty Fighting]

Hes the better man, so lets do what we do best
>>
>I stood silently to meet his charge. Let the bigger man waste his breath to come to me. [Legionarius]
>>
>>3683263
>I stood silently to meet his charge. Let the bigger man waste his breath to come to me. [Legionarius]
>>
>>3683266
>>3683270
>>3683272
>I stood silently to meet his charge. Let the bigger man waste his breath to come to me. [Legionarius]

The first lesson you learn in the Imperial legions is how to march until you drop dead with exhaustion. The second lesson is standing very still without making a single sound as barbarians charge toward your shield walls.

I had no shield walls. I didn't even have a proper shield. The buckler I used was convenient because I didn't have to replace it every battle, and was small enough that I could carry it around with ease. But it was nowhere near the kind of scutum I wanted right now.

What I did have was the necessary training to stare at one hundred fifty kilograms of angry man and metal without flinching. And I stood the hell out of my ground. It kept me from panicking. Routine took over and silenced the animal part of the brain that screamed at me to run away.

Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy
>Combat = +125DC [Healthy +5DC, Skilled II +10DC, Unnatural Strength +5DC, Unnatural Endurance +5DC, Unnatural Will +5DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (major) +20DC, Elite II +20DC, Dirty Fighting +15DC, Legionarius II +20DC, Chainmail shirt +5DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC]
>Armour Value = 25AV [Chainmail shirt +10AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Roundhelm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
VS
Sergeant Halstat of the 1st Castellans, Interim-Lieutenant: Healthy
>Combat = +135DC [Healthy +5DC, Skilled I +5DC, Prodigious Strength +10DC, Unnatural Endurance +5DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (minor) +10DC, Elite V +50DC, Stormtrooper training +20DC, Castellan panoply +15, Ancestral runed greatsword +10DC, Full helm +5DC]
>Armour Value = 35AV [Castellan panoply +20AV, Full helm +15AV]
>Special = Prodigious strength (-10AV to Foe), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regen on DC20), Ancestral runed greatsword (1 Success = +1 Damage)

Personal Combat DC40
>3d100
>>
Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>3683285
>>
Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>3683285
We are very fucked, we need to change tactics or we will lose this
>>
Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>
>>3683292
>>3683293
>>3683295
Use reroll this round for the 96?
>>
>>3683297
yes
that is acrit fail right?
>>
>>3683304
Nope, current result is 2 Success so that's very good. 96 isn't a doubles like 99 or 66, after all.
>>
>>3683305
oh,then don't use it let's keep it for a crit
>>
>>3683308
This lets save it
>>
Rolled 94, 59, 35 = 188 (3d100)

AV
>>
>>3683313
Ignore the third roll, accidentally did 3d100 instead of 2d100
>>
>>3683315
that is very good for us then
>>
>>3683292
>>3683293
>>3683295
>2 Success
>Foe is Bleeding

I ducked, evading the loping cut of his greatsword. Damned thing was almost burning blue with the runes inscribed against the fuller. Halstat trusted his armour to stop him. That was a mistake. Unlike a proper legionary, I was without a proper shield and comrades-in-arms to protect my flanks. But I'd lived alone for a long time on the road and developed little tricks along the way.

Keeping my head low, I crashed headlong against his legs. My shoulder ached from the impact, but it had the intended effect. Halstat fell. He tried to stand up quickly, but I was quicker, unencumbered by all that metal. Needling out the chinks in the armour, I made short, vicious stabs, scrambling away before his gauntleted hand struck me. One swipe of that could have crumpled my skull.

My sword glistened with his ichor. For once, I was doing well in a fight. When was the last time I'd done so well? The battle against James and the other extras. And that morning with the Magal. But most of the time, I'd been a mediocre combatant. "Surrender?" I asked, warily eyeing his greatsword. I was hoping to end this without a death.

Snorting furiously under his helm, the stormtrooper stood up. He was very obviously in pain. Wordlessly, he hefted his greatsword up.

"Guess that's a no," I said. He limped forward. Stormtroopers and their dogged determination. That's what made them so great in the battlefield. If only he wasn't so bloody ambitious.

Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy
>Combat = +125DC [Healthy +5DC, Skilled II +10DC, Unnatural Strength +5DC, Unnatural Endurance +5DC, Unnatural Will +5DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (major) +20DC, Elite II +20DC, Dirty Fighting +15DC, Legionarius II +20DC, Chainmail shirt +5DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC]
>Armour Value = 25AV [Chainmail shirt +10AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Roundhelm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
VS
Sergeant Halstat of the 1st Castellans, Interim-Lieutenant: Healthy
>Combat = +125DC [Injured -5DC, Skilled I +5DC, Prodigious Strength +10DC, Unnatural Endurance +5DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (minor) +10DC, Elite V +50DC, Stormtrooper training +20DC, Castellan panoply +15, Ancestral runed greatsword +10DC, Full helm +5DC]
>Armour Value = 35AV [Castellan panoply +20AV, Full helm +15AV]
>Special = Prodigious strength (-10AV to Foe), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regen on DC20), Ancestral runed greatsword (1 Success = +1 Damage)

Personal Combat DC50
>3d100
>>
File: 1560980113915.png (12 KB, 156x104)
12 KB
12 KB PNG
Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>3683331
Wew
>>
Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>
File: 1560523765832.png (100 KB, 661x458)
100 KB
100 KB PNG
>>3683337
Nimya pls
>>
Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>3683331
he is still healthy?
>>
Not a single crit fail in an important duel? I must be in the wrong quest.


>>3683343
Oh no, I forgot to edit that bit. Shite...
>>
>>3683343
>>3683337
>>3683335
damn we fucked him up

and with the answer to the ultimate question of life, universe and everything else too
>>
Rolled 16, 34, 9 = 59 (3d100)

>>3683335
>>3683337
>>3683343
>3 Success
AV
>>
File: 1559693156149.png (138 KB, 511x247)
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>>3683345
It's truly apt for a Scion of the Emperor.
Can't into Human Feelings.
Can into Ass Kickings.

>>3683349
And Halstat's Armor can into tanking hits.
>>
>>3683349
Holy fuck
>>
>>3683349
There is our luck, he still takes bleeding damage tho I suppose right?
>>
Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>3683355
Yes, now to see if he manages to heal
>>
>>3683355
>>3683354
Regardless that's some damn fine armor. If we survive/murder Halstat, we're making sure it gets repaired to good condition for the next LT.
>>
>>3683349
3d100?
>>
>3 Success
>1 damage (Bleed)

Even the greatest suit of plate cannot block the damage from inside the body. My gladius had found its marks well. Ichor audibly sloshed within the confines of the metal suit, flowing liberally from the gaps and hinges.

That was the reason for the focus on piercing attacks in the Imperial legions. They considered slashing attacks wasteful, opening yourself too much against counterattacks. The legionary style didn't look pretty like some fencing masters I could name. But it got the job done.

"I surrender," he said suddenly. He was so quiet that I doubted anyone else heard. And then he crumpled on to the ground.

>I rushed to help him in my capacity as Scrivener. We'd lost enough brothers. [Idealist]

>I hesitated. It could be a trap. He hadn't made it clear that he had surrendered.
>>
>>3683372
>>I rushed to help him in my capacity as Scrivener. We'd lost enough brothers. [Idealist]

let's get stabbed for our good heart

we did lost too many brothers
>>
>>3683371
Three Wounds, three AV rolls. He has a full panoply of plate armour. Stormtroopers are intended to get into the thick of things.
>>
>I hesitated. It could be a trap. He hadn't made it clear that he had surrendered.

Ask out loud are you OK. And scream for a medic. But stay still.
>>
>>3683372
>I hesitated. It could be a trap. He hadn't made it clear that he had surrendered.
>Call for a medic
>>
>>3683372

>I rushed to help him in my capacity as Scrivener. We'd lost enough brothers. [Idealist]

Come on guys, we need to do the right one here, we heard him and he is a brother
>>
>>3683385
But Anon I've seen the future. It ends with the GM taking the opposite reaction that fucks us over.
>>
>>3683385
Probably a cousin of yours as well, somewhere within the convoluted family lines of Alexandrians
>>
>>3683388
I know that anon, but sometimes we have to fuck ourselves for the right reasons, this is a brother and he needs help, if he aatacks us he is in the wrong, his choice to make
>>
>>3683372
>I rushed to help him in my capacity as Scrivener. We'd lost enough brothers. [Idealist]
>>
>>3683372
>I hesitated. It could be a trap. He hadn't made it clear that he had surrendered.

I’d rather stay well back from that greatsword.
>>
>>3683372
> I rushed to help him

Comon weve fallen for this before. Its not becuase we are stupid its becuase we are idealistic.
>>
>>3683372
>I hesitated. It could be a trap. He hadn't made it clear that he had surrendered.

Guys, he just like us have regenerative powers. He shouldn't die from this
>>
>>3683422
His regenerative powers should be more powerful than ours no? Seeing as he is ostensibly “purer” than us.
>>
>>3683426
Aurelius: Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
Halstat: Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regen on DC20)
>>
>>3683445
hmm, so it's safe to say that his wounds are not immediately fatal based on his regen and what we know of imperial blood?
>>
>>3683460
Oh no, he can definitely die. And he failed the regen DC so he's Wounded (one Wound away from Dead)
>>
>>3683468
then I'm not betting on a dc20 test for the guy to survive, even if he attacks us he will keep bleeding to death, we have to try
>>
>>3683372

>I hesitated. It could be a trap. He hadn't made it clear that he had surrendered.
>>
>>3683372
>>I rushed to help him in my capacity as Scrivener. We'd lost enough brothers. [Idealist]
>>
I think if we don't help him we will lose the stormtroopers, but at the same time he can just try to kill us, and if he kills us, there's no one to stop his bloodloss
>>
>>3683372

>I hesitated. It could be a trap. He hadn't made it clear that he had surrendered.
We should tell him to repeat his surrender louder.
>>
>>3683378
>>3683380
>>3683400
>>3683422
>>3683491
>>3683537
>I hesitated. It could be a trap. He hadn't made it clear that he had surrendered.

It is an incorrigible streak of sarcasm that prompts me to describe myself as a romantic. People seemed to think I was a bleeding heart who would put first the lives of others instead of that of my own. A development that came about because of my alleged rescue of a girl named Honey.

I'd never heard of her before I woke up that afternoon, after the fight against Throne. She was the anomaly. The odd detail in my life. Everything checked out except the inclusion of a highly improbable story of my rescue of an orphan amidst the Sinaeans back in Luoyang. It was all wrong. The details. The sheer impossibility of such an act from my part.

The more I thought about it, the more certain I became. This was an Ensorcelled ploy to weaken me, to turn me into the very thing I despised. I was Aurelius, coward. Passivist. I did not just decide to shield a random girl in the street from mob violence. All very sad, yes - but what concern is it to me? This Honey was an apparition of sorts, perhaps conjured up by Throne in his dying breaths.

Cowards live. That is something I'd learned from decades of life experience. Cowards survive to write the Annals down the road to suit his needs. Either way, idealism was not my thing. I leave such matters of conscience to the selfless Rebel and the naive Legates who think they can afford to be such. The world has puttered on with or without them. It will continue on again.

"What are you waiting for?" I said harshly. The stormtroopers flinched. "Call a Scrivener! Do you want your sergeant to die?"

---

"You could have checked him yourself." Senior Scrivener Xavier's voice was mild, yet reproving. He had been an actual doctor before losing his wife to the pox. He'd closed down his practice afterwards and joined the Black Company on a whim. Whims are the true deciders in our mortal lives. "We are all stretched thin, Aurelius," he continued after a pause. I hadn't said anything. "The dead may outnumber the wounded, but our numbers, too, have shrunk."

"The Annals are safe," I said. "That is what matters in the end. Sergeant Halstat's name will be placed upon them, if only for his leadership during the Ambush."

He looked at me over his spectacles. "You were one of my finest students."

"Thank you."

"You should know, then, that the first three minutes is the most precious time for a gut wound like his."

>"...I was afraid. I thought he was going to get me with a dagger while I inspected him." A sprinkle of honesty. The allspice of all lies.

>"I've fought duels before, Senior Scrivener." That should remind him of my temporary high rank. "Whispered surrenders often end up in the death of the apparent victor."
>>
>>3683804

>"...I was afraid. I thought he was going to get me with a dagger while I inspected him." A sprinkle of honesty. The allspice of all lies.

I hope you are happy you cowards, that was a chance to remember Honey
>>
>>3683804

>"...I was afraid. I thought he was going to get me with a dagger while I inspected him." A sprinkle of honesty. The allspice of all lies.
>>
>>3683804
>"...I was afraid. I thought he was going to get me with a dagger while I inspected him." A sprinkle of honesty. The allspice of all lies.
>>
>>3683804
>"...I was afraid. I thought he was going to get me with a dagger while I inspected him." A sprinkle of honesty. The allspice of all lies.

>>3683813
Cowards get to live longer.
>>
>>3683823
They do, but what life is that eh? The guy was obviously bleeding to death and you fuckers decided to let him die, even if he attacked us, with our body it would hardly be fatal, but I'm just venting right now, the salt will fade with time
>>
>>3683804
>>"...I was afraid. I thought he was going to get me with a dagger while I inspected him." A sprinkle of honesty. The allspice of all lies.
>>
>>3683813
>>3683817
>>3683821
>>3683823
>>3683842
>"...I was afraid. I thought he was going to get me with a dagger while I inspected him." A sprinkle of honesty. The allspice of all lies.

Xavier smiled sadly. "Now that, that I know to be a lie." I was startled. Old men with too much insight is not my favourite thing to deal with. He knew me well. We'd spent too much time together. Come to think of it - why had I been so chummy with these people? I was usually so withdrawn. Insular. I was perfectly fine with having two acquaintances at the most. He didn't say anything else as we cleaned Halstat's body.

I often call the Black Company a brotherhood, but such disagreements that led to deaths weren't unheard of. After all, we were a collection of psychopaths and murderers. It would be strange to get along like a convent of nuns. The only thing he said on the matter was after we'd bagged his body, ready to be buried by one of the less medically inclined brothers. "You may have become the first Scrivener to be feared, Lieutenant."

>"I'm not Lieutenant. Call me Aurelius." It felt strange to hear him call me by a title, one that I barely deserved. Something felt blocked in my heart.

>"Good. That means less duels, thus less bodies we need to wrap up. You should cheer up a little, Senior Scrivener." Smaller workload ought to make the old man happy.
>>
>>3683843
>"I'm not Lieutenant. Call me Aurelius." It felt strange to hear him call me by a title, one that I barely deserved. Something felt blocked in my heart.
It's such a adorable sight to see the humanity loss in Aurelius. Like a kid riding their bike for the first time.
>>
>>3683843


>"I'm not Lieutenant. Call me Aurelius." It felt strange to hear him call me by a title, one that I barely deserved. Something felt blocked in my heart.
>>
>>3683843


>"I'm not Lieutenant. Call me Aurelius." It felt strange to hear him call me by a title, one that I barely deserved. Something felt blocked in my heart.

Does Aurelius remeber his live for his wives at least? He is talking about aquaintances. He did love at least one of them
>>
>>3683843
>"I'm not Lieutenant. Call me Aurelius." It felt strange to hear him call me by a title, one that I barely deserved. Something felt blocked in my heart.
>>
>>3683843


>"I'm not Lieutenant. Call me Aurelius." It felt strange to hear him call me by a title, one that I barely deserved. Something felt blocked in my heart.
>>
>>3683843
>"I'm not Lieutenant. Call me Aurelius." It felt strange to hear him call me by a title, one that I barely deserved. Something felt blocked in my heart.
>>
>>3683843
>"I'm not Lieutenant. Call me Aurelius." It felt strange to hear him call me by a title, one that I barely deserved. Something felt blocked in my heart.
>>
>>3683843
>>"I'm not Lieutenant. Call me Aurelius." It felt strange to hear him call me by a title, one that I barely deserved. Something felt blocked in my heart.
>>
>>3683848
>>3683849
>>3683852
>>3683865
>>3683866
>>3683868
>>3683878
>>"I'm not Lieutenant. Call me Aurelius." It felt strange to hear him call me by a title, one that I barely deserved. Something felt blocked in my heart.

"Of course, Lieutenant Aurelius."

Anger flared. Petty old git. He should have died in the Forest with the rest of them. Did he think I enjoyed the death of Halstat? The Company was at a precipice, where losing such a skilled individual was hardly permissible. I knew that. But what about me? Wasn't I important in the welfare of the Company? Why should I run around saving everyone, as if I were a bloody hero?

I never should have befriended the old man. I uttered a curse upon the Honey that raised the bar of expectation on the man named Aurelius. If Throne was in an afterlife somehow instead of being Husked like the rest of the dead men of the Forest, he was probably grinning with how well his last sorcery had affected me.

Good Aurelius. Kind Aurelius. Caring Aurelius. the presuppositions of an Aurelius past and distant haunted me - choked me, from every side. Sister's disappointed eyes. Xavier's reproving looks. The fearful whispers of line troopers and the cold gaze those stormtroopers. Did they think I was some kind of a saint? Goddamned Jokk, if only he had died without saying anything. Well he was god-damned now. Worse than. He was Husked. Probably was feeling the chill right about now. Worms would wake with warmth, as snow melted. Then the unheard screams would start-

"Lieutenant Aurelius, are you alright?"

I blinked. Captain looked concerned. We were supposed to be talking about moving the camp, taking advantage of the advent of spring to finally get ourselves prepared for the move south to Bath by foraging and preserving what foodstuff we could. Throne's death had destroyed whatever it was that kept the Rebel enclave here functioning, and Captain had taken to the job. I supposed she felt indebted. They did take the survivors in, after all.

>"Everything is alright," I assured her. She did not need to know. This Forest was death. We had to get out. [Everything is Alright]

>"I just don't think we should keep the Rebel tagging along," I said. "They're already slowing us down, and we haven't even started moving." [Ditch Rebel]

>A lump on my throat. That was a sign that I was about to say something I would regret. "Captain," I began... [Dice roll required]
>>
>>3683902
>A lump on my throat. That was a sign that I was about to say something I would regret. "Captain," I began... [Dice roll required]
My loins can't deny a stupid sexy dice roll.
>>
>>3683902
>>A lump on my throat. That was a sign that I was about to say something I would regret. "Captain," I began... [Dice roll required]
>>
>>3683902

>A lump on my throat. That was a sign that I was about to say something I would regret. "Captain," I began... [Dice roll required]
>>
>>3683902
>"I just don't think we should keep the Rebel tagging along," I said. "They're already slowing us down, and we haven't even started moving." [Ditch Rebel]

How many of them are there anyway?
>>
>>3683902
>A lump on my throat. That was a sign that I was about to say something I would regret. "Captain," I began... [Dice roll required]
Who the hell is Honey?
>>
>>3683950
>Who the hell is Honey?
It's that stuff you put on bread.
Bees make it. Bears love it.
>>
>>3683954
We are a bee after all
>>
>>3683956
Does this make the Captain a Hornet?
>>
>>3683909
>>3683910
>>3683914
>>3683950
>A lump on my throat. That was a sign that I was about to say something I would regret. "Captain," I began...

Cowards get to live longer.

Did I really want to do this? Talk about a problem we couldn't even solve? The more people knew about the Husking problem, the worse it would be. There would be panics. Massed despair. The idea of thousands dead trapped in their bodies with the full range of their senses...

No. It would be better if no one else but Sister and I knew.

They couldn't handle the truth.

>Broaching the topic of the Husked DC50
> - 1d100 Cowardice
> - 1d100 Despair
>1d100
>>
Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>3683982
>>
Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>3683982
>>
Rolled 76 (1d100)

>>3683982
This is the worse, I'm starting to really get angry at what happened to his character

I can't hate you enough anons, the salt is taking too long to dissipate, I may die of dehydration.
>>
Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>3683982
Lol these fucking roll oh your just the the frist bc how i love thee
>>
>>3683987
>96

"...nothing," I said. "Nothing at all." And in doing so, I prevented the death of more brothers in trying the unattainable. I was Aurelius, former Trooper, Scrivener, Lieutenant. Not Aurelius, Miracle Maker.

Captain was relieved. "I thought you would object to the Rebel joining us. They're only with us for the trip out of the Forest. They won't be able to survive another year without an Ensorcelled protecting them."

"Oh, that," I said lamely. I tried to shake the thought of Husked in my mind. It was surprisingly easy, when you really focused. I might even sleep easily tonight. "I think it's a terrible idea to let them join in." Civilians couldn't march half as fast as brothers of the black could, even when half of us were injured or worse.

>"And I think it is my place to remind you to focus on the well-being of the Company, first and foremost." A pointed remark, digging at her past attempt at using our mercenary band for her adolescent oath. Certain to guilt her into leaving the Rebel rabble behind.

>"The situation in Bath is not stable. We entered the city a war hero, but we simply don't know how situation developed in there. We have to be able to march without worrying about stragglers." No Company Ensorcelled had survived the Ambush. That was why Dumpling and Shamaness hadn't been able to receive any message.
>>
>>3684020

>"The situation in Bath is not stable. We entered the city a war hero, but we simply don't know how situation developed in there. We have to be able to march without worrying about stragglers." No Company Ensorcelled had survived the Ambush. That was why Dumpling and Shamaness hadn't been able to receive any message.

Don't the rebel have anyone from the sixteen left to send a message to the girls?
>>
>>3684020
>>"The situation in Bath is not stable. We entered the city a war hero, but we simply don't know how situation developed in there. We have to be able to march without worrying about stragglers." No Company Ensorcelled had survived the Ambush. That was why Dumpling and Shamaness hadn't been able to receive any message.
>>
>>3684020
>>"The situation in Bath is not stable. We entered the city a war hero, but we simply don't know how situation developed in there. We have to be able to march without worrying about stragglers." No Company Ensorcelled had survived the Ambush. That was why Dumpling and Shamaness hadn't been able to receive any message.
>>
>>3684043
Nope, Ensorcelled are rare. Throne could have sent a message if he knew about Dumpling/Shamaess.
>>
>>3684020
>"The situation in Bath is not stable. We entered the city a war hero, but we simply don't know how situation developed in there. We have to be able to march without worrying about stragglers." No Company Ensorcelled had survived the Ambush. That was why Dumpling and Shamaness hadn't been able to receive any message.
Did we want to go grave robing?
Also cant wait till we end up becomeing the next emperor
>>
Let's hope we can tell her someday about the husked so we can try to do something

>>3684054
I hope that never happens
>>
>>3684020
>"The situation in Bath is not stable. We entered the city a war hero, but we simply don't know how situation developed in there. We have to be able to march without worrying about stragglers." No Company Ensorcelled had survived the Ambush. That was why Dumpling and Shamaness hadn't been able to receive any message.
>>
>>3684059
>I hope that never happens
>inb4 the QM forces us into that position via implication of everyone we care about as players dying if we turn it down
>inb4 the Dice strongarm us into that role to begin with
>>
>>3684043
>>3684045
>>3684046
>>3684054
>>3684077
>>"The situation in Bath is not stable. We entered the city a war hero, but we simply don't know how situation developed in there. We have to be able to march without worrying about stragglers." No Company Ensorcelled had survived the Ambush. That was why Dumpling and Shamaness hadn't been able to receive any message.

"We might be able to recruit some of them."

"They're Rebel, Captain. Idealists." Captain startled at the amount of venom I injected in that word. I tried again. "They've been stubbornly living in the Forest for five years, going to six. You think they might join the Black Company whose number one customer is the Empire?"

"Prefects. It's not as if the Empire itself hires us."

"How many Rebel strongholds were destroyed by the Company?" I demanded. "Sympathisers uprooted. Rounded up and given over to whoever happened to be the prefect in charge." Captain was getting mellow in her marriage bliss.

Marriage. Wasn't I supposed to get married after this? With three women, no less.

Children. I felt ill.

"Take a day off, Lieutenant." Captain's blue eyes gazed keenly into my gold. She suspected something to be wrong. Nothing was wrong. I was more myself than I'd ever been. I protested. She insisted. The outcome was good as foretold. Like every argument between the two sexes since the dawn of the universe, the male gave up.

>I stayed in my officer's tent - one of the privileges of rank - and suppressed traitorous thoughts about that Ice Bitch- Captain.

>I wandered in the Forest. As I wandered, I thought. Thinking was not something I'd had much time for in the past few weeks.

>I decided to join the warrior's lodge that Halstat had been in. It was one of those secret club things that granted an extra layer of kinship among its members, a fight club in all but name. It would be a good place to expel my frustration against the Captain.
>>
>>3684106
>>I wandered in the Forest. As I wandered, I thought. Thinking was not something I'd had much time for in the past few weeks.

time for some reflection
>>
>>3684084
I'm very big on player-driven characterisation, but also consequences for past actions. If players decide to turn Aurelius into Caesar, that is their road to walk.
>>
>>3684114
that would be the most tragic and terrible thing to happen to him, he would probably have to shed everything of good in him and let go of everyone he loves, damn, pls no
>>
>>3684106
>I wandered in the Forest. As I wandered, I thought. Thinking was not something I'd had much time for in the past few weeks.
And then we get kidnapped or lost.
>>
>>3684119
It takes a certain kind of madness to maintain an idealistic view despite everything. The loss of the selfless act he committed for Honey was probably the biggest reason for this shift in attitude.

The hesitation in the fighting ring was merely the needle that broke the camel's back! This has been a fun update session.
>>
>>3684106

>I wandered in the Forest. As I wandered, I thought. Thinking was not something I'd had much time for in the past few weeks.
>>
>>3684128
for you, for me it was nothing but pain, but here will I be tomorrow to try and bring joy back into Aurelius
>>
>>3684135
>>3684128
and please don't get me wrong, I love the writing, that's probably why I care so much
>>
I often read back to previous entries to compare the tone and shift in character. I came across this bit.

---

But I am ever a romantic. There was the barest chance of survivors waiting to be rescued. Captain reprising her role as a damsel once more in distress. We couldn't bring everyone. It would slow us all down. Speed was of the essence.

So it was just us. Sergeant, Sister, and myself, if we ignored the squirming form of Runesinger. Just like a certain spring day in Jian'an, when a foolish farmboy and an old-souled Alexandrian joined up to a newly formed platoon of the greatest mercenary company in the world.

I exhaled with the nervous excitement of returning to action. I turned around from my saddle and saw Honey waving at me, still not sure why everyone else had been crying yesterday. And I smiled.

>"I'll be back."

Honey smiled back. "Be back before dinner!" she said.

"Of course I will," I lied. The sun was rising now. It made the teardrops in Hood's eyes glisten like a fiery gem of the south.

"Love you," Dumpling mouthed. I didn't need to hear her to know what she was saying. I nodded. I knew.

"Hey, wait a minute," Sister said. "Why aren't we bringing Hood? She's our best tracker, isn't she?"

"She is," I agreed. "She is also pregnant." I had a nose for these things. Call it a father's intuition. Also I'd seen her experience morning sickness. You might remember that I am the resident healer.

"Oh, shit." Sister went ashen. "Now you really gotta come back, Aurelius. Else Hood is going to skin me."

"That's the plan." That was ever the plan. I never planned on dying, unlike a silly Captain I could remember. Life was too glorious to die. The memories, good and bad, formed a tapestry worthy of decorating the yurt of any Magal chieftain. And I had so much to live for. "Wish us luck?" I asked Hood.

"Fuck luck," Hood grinned. There was the homicidal madwoman I fell in love with. "Go give them hell, Aurelius. Show them how tenacious you can be."

"Your wish is my command, dear lady," I flourished my winter hat. "And now, we really must be going."

And so we went.


---

How the turn tables.
>>
>>3684135
>>3684143
Hey, thanks! I'm always self-conscious about my prose since they can sometimes get meandering. Not being a native speaker, some phrases and such stumps me occasionally. Good to hear it's somewhat consumable to the Anglosphere.
>>
>>3684148
>>>3684148
>>There was the homicidal madwoman I fell in love with.
>I'm really looking forward to see if we remember our love for Hood, it was not born from our idealism but we slowly fell in love for her, not reciprocated some feelings or felt responsible for her.
>Maybe if we still have that rope we can bring some things back
>>
Why didnt we pick the daddy issues
We could have lived without the daddy issues
>>
>>3684106
>I wandered in the Forest. As I wandered, I thought. Thinking was not something I'd had much time for in the past few weeks.
>>
>>3684164
I wanted to pick the daddy issues, but if we had we probably would end up being a terrible dad like our father was, Honey is alive we can try to fix this shitstain that Aurelius became
>>
>>3684112
>>3684126
>>3684130
>>3684167
>I wandered in the Forest. As I wandered, I thought. Thinking was not something I'd had much time for in the past few weeks.

Spring was coming to the Forest. I spotted greens and yellows beneath the crumbling snow. Tyrannical snow. Relentless snow. Receding against the unfelt heat. At last, the long winter was signalling its defeat.

I drifted aimlessly around the arboreal giants that populated the deep woods. The Forest was younger here. They didn't remember the Pacification. That brutal war against the once massive Forest that spanned half a continent. Now merely confined to this spot in the inhospitable north. And the man who had achieved it was my detested ancestor.

Oh Emperor. Were you a man, once? Did you ever feel frustrated from the ones closest to you for not doing the right thing, the rational thing? Was this how you felt, great-grandfather, when you slaughtered the rebellious Eskhatans, the most beloved of your peoples?

I blushed. I thought I was beyond composing purple prose to a dead man in my mind. Why the navel-gazing, Aurelius? You were right. I was right. It was folly to take the Rebel along in our journey. Folly to marry three women at once. Folly to imagine I loved a woman who had been trying to kill me in her every waking moment.

Folly of follies, I said half-loud.

>"There is, after all, no reason to hasten my death. Life is everything." I must cling to it. Obsess over it. Threat to the continuation of my life was a threat to my very being itself.

>"And it is that folly," said a quiet part of me, a Rebel part of me, "that makes life all the more worth living."
>>
>>3684178
>>"And it is that folly," said a quiet part of me, a Rebel part of me, "that makes life all the more worth living."
>>
>>3684178

>>"And it is that folly," said a quiet part of me, a Rebel part of me, "that makes life all the more worth living."
>>
>>3684178

>"And it is that folly," said a quiet part of me, a Rebel part of me, "that makes life all the more worth living."

That's the one A-really, hold on to that arrow filled folly
>>
>>3684178
>>"And it is that folly," said a quiet part of me, a Rebel part of me, "that makes life all the more worth living."
>>
>>3684178
>"And it is that folly," said a quiet part of me, a Rebel part of me, "that makes life all the more worth living."
>>
>>3684178
>"And it is that folly," said a quiet part of me, a Rebel part of me, "that makes life all the more worth living."
I'm still waiting for that other boot to drop.
>>
>>3684178
>"There is, after all, no reason to hasten my death. Life is everything." I must cling to it. Obsess over it. Threat to the continuation of my life was a threat to my very being itself.

And then he walks away from everything, lives another hundred years in a cave, eating shrooms and pinecones.
>>
>>3684190
>>3684199
>>3684207
>>3684212
>>3684237
>>3684263
>"And it is that folly," said a quiet part of me, a Rebel part of me, "that makes life all the more worth living."

It was the kind of one-off thought that needled everyone. Like "I could totally push this guy in front of the oncoming horse cart right now". Or "My hands are strong enough to bash a baby's head in." Mumblings of a stressed mind. Do you heed every one of such thoughts with care and attention? Of course not. I quashed the sentiment away where it belonged. Out of mind.

The sound of padded feet against soft-strewn earth alerted me to her appearance.

I sighed. "Hello, Wolf." She flicked an ear in greeting. This was the first time I saw her in the light of day. Jove, she was massive. As large as an ox. She must depopulate entire sections of the Forest just to keep up her muscle mass. "Here to lead me to something crazy again?" I asked.

She huffed. Not with indignance, but acknowledgement. I was coming along well in the road of becoming an animal whisperer. "Well, go find someone else. I'm not in the mood for your huffs and snorts."

She whined, the kind of keening, canine cry that irritates the ear. It was odd, to see this absolute beast of a predator make the sound of a dog cornered. Were those tears in her eyes? It was. She was crying. I didn't know wolves did that.

>"See, this is precisely the kind of thing I'm talking about. Oversized wolves crying. Mad wizard sending shadowcats." How many times had I almost died since entering the Forest? "Find another hero for your bloody quest," I said, no longer afraid of the Wolf. I was too angry at her for fear.

>And I remembered an Aurelius whose greatest weakness was that of feminine tears.
>>
>>3684290
>And I remembered an Aurelius whose greatest weakness was that of feminine tears.
HOOD HALP, PLS SHOOT US WITH A BOW FROM BATH TO SNAP US OUT OF IT!
>>
>>3684290
>And I remembered an Aurelius whose greatest weakness was that of feminine tears.
>>
>>3684290
>And I remembered an Aurelius whose greatest weakness was that of feminine tears.
>>
>>3684290

>And I remembered an Aurelius whose greatest weakness was that of feminine tears.
"If Hood could see me now she would probably send me to help and threaten to emasculate me is I cheated on her, again, how not to love?"
>>
>>3684290
>And I remembered an Aurelius whose greatest weakness was that of feminine tears.
>>
>>3684295
So much this
>>
>>3684290
And I remembered an Aurelius whose greatest weakness was that of feminine tears
>>
>>3684295
>>3684299
>>3684303
>>3684309
>>3684313
>>3684340
>And I remembered an Aurelius whose greatest weakness was that of feminine tears.

Old memories. Dumpling crying over dead Sybil. Hood, silently suffering as she looked at the crucifixions in Rainless. The faintest impression of a golden haired child, bleeding from her head, sobbing soundlessly.

We all die in the end. It is not how long we live but how well that determines the quality of life. My mother spent such a short time among us. An Alexandrian of the purity of my father was a strain for her mundane body. My birth had sapped her strength. The censores saw to her end.

Out of sight. Out of mind. They did it to keep her illness from affecting the toddler of my father. They would have done so regardless of her illness. To prevent him from wondering about mortality at such a young age, when we Alexandrians lived for centuries. To keep me safe and coddled, distracted from all the pesky questions and decision-making.

And that was what I had been doing the past few weeks. I had been acting as my own censor.

If I wanted security, I should have stayed in the Capital. The censores ensured we lived long. Only those participating in the Great Game were in any danger. Pampered with food and luxuries, all we had to do was to marry those we were ordered to and produce the next generations of more long-lived aristocrats like so many prized horses led to rut.

The taking of my mother had been my father's rebellion against the rigidity of Capital life and the carefully tailored genetic maps that determined our pairings. My escape from the Capital and the eventual signing up into the Company was mine. I had gambled then, scaling the high walls of the Forbidden City, shredding my nails in the attempt. And I had succeeded, at the cost of being a loner, shunned by all Sinaeans who saw me.

For every choice, a consequence.

I looked at the Wolf. She looked back, as if sensing my inner struggle. I didn't have to go. No one was ordering me to. If I followed, the results were nebulous. Ambiguous. Like walking into heavy fog.

Time to make a choice, Aurelius. You aren't in the Capital anymore.

>I remained.

>I followed.
>>
>>3684370
>>I followed.
>>
>>3684370
>I followed
>>
>>3684370

>I followed.

We are remembering, if we stop now we may never do it again
>>
>>3684370
>>I followed.
>>
>>3684370
>I followed
>>
>>3684370

>I followed.
>>
>>3684370
>>I followed.
>>
>>3684370
>I followed.

Caused the death of one of our best fighters, turning more bitter and cynical yep it's a Black Company quest all right

>>3684169
Yeah instead we lost everything that made us kind, caring and an actual brother to the company. Good call there anons
>>
>>3684385
>>3684391
>>3684394
>>3684408
>>3684435
>>3684779
>>3685079
>>3685117
>I followed.

Unanimous consensus attained, skipping Cowardice check
Writing
>>
>>3685377
>I followed.

Such is the lot of the infantryman. I wasn't a soldier, but I was damned close to one. A mercenary for hire, wandering from one battlefield to the next. Following was what I did. This didn't feel much like following. It was easy to let someone else lead you. The Wolf was taking me somewhere, but it was my decision to go.

If I died, I would die a Husk. The entire Forest was a soul trap. Like Sergeant and Jokk and Barns and Noble and countless other brothers who had died in the Ambush. I felt guilty then. Guilty for trying to ignore their pain.

The clearing Wolf led me into was perfectly round. Trees were crowded against the boundary, but did not cross it. Not even a single branch loped over the imagined line. Not for lack of want. The Old Men of the Forest were crowding against themselves to get as close as they could against the border. I could almost hear the seething hatred toward the object that generated the clearing.

It was a simple tombstone. Nothing fancy with angels with wings and ancestral gods, merely a block of white marble with inscriptions thereon. It was of Imperial make. What was it doing here, so far from civilisation?

"Why did you bring me here?" I asked. There was no answer. The Wolf had left me behind again. I muttered, "Bad girl." I went up to read the inscription.

A lifetime in the Capital's Bibliotheca gave me some training in reocgnising artefacts. This one was old. Eight, maybe, or nine thousand years. It was certainly raised in the first two millennia of the Empire's existence. "I, Iases, lie here," I read. Iases, the Favoured Son. So he was interred in this spot, the first of the first generation of the Emperor's scions. "That's great," I said. It was a great archaeological find. "But it doesn't tell me anything."

"It means you were chosen."

I whirled, combat-ready. "Relax, I'm already dead." Throne lay casually on one of the branches outside the perimeter, one leg dangling in the air. "You really did a number on me, cousin. That gamble with the ladies of the waters? A masterful stroke."

"I saw you dead." What was he talking about? Ladies of the waters?
>>
>>3685570

"Twice." He grinned that perfect smile of his. He looked nothing like the water-bloated corpse I'd burned to ashes. He looked around casually, frowning at the gloom. "This isn't the kind of place I thought of making my resting place."

"Why aren't you Husked?"

"Ah, so you've found out about the Forest's unique characteristic. The Forest likes to keep itself as a closed ecosystem. Souls recycled for the benefit of the Forest. After all, life is the greatest fertiliser there is for magic." A look of hunger entered his eyes. It disappeared quickly under a mask of cheeriness. "As for your question... contingencies upon contingencies, cousin dearest. I can't tell you more. You've dealt with us Ensorcelled before. Like Runesinger."

Wizards. I should have never gotten involved with their like. "Illusions and deception," I said.

He winked. "A sorcerer never reveals his tricks."

This was ridiculous. I was talking with a dead man. And not dead in the sense that he would return. He was truly, irreversibly, completely dead. I'd made sure to deal with his corpse properly. "You're not a sorcerer. Not anymore. Even Ensorcelled die in the end."

"The Emperor didn't."

"He died in Xuchang." Golden blood on carpeted stairs.

"If you say so," he shrugged. "To answer your question, the special properties of the Forest prevents me from leaving. Good thing I had five years to prepare for this kind of thing. Of course, I wasn't expecting to die. I would have killed you if I did." He smiled inoffensively. "Nothing personal. It's just that my work was too important to be disrupted."

"Why are you being so helpful?"

He sighed. Even in death, his theatric earnestness hadn't left him. "I don't want to stay around forever, not in this boring old place. If you are here, that means you were chosen to end the phenomenon." The phenomenon? "The Husking. All you have to do is destroy that tombstone, and your dearly departed will be actually able to leave."

I was suspicious. "Just like that?"

"Just like that. Easy, isn't it? No sacrificing seventy seven virgins or burning the eight son of the eighth son here. You don't even have to destroy it, not really. Just pull it out from the ground, and we will all be free to go."

Five years Throne had lain in the Forest, while other members of the Sixteen were out and about, extending their own control over parts of the Empire. Five years of sacrifice in time holed up within this place. That smelled of a Plan. The sort of Plans men weave in the dark corners of the night while sipping quality alcohol and stroking the back of a cat. Soul-catching Forest. A gravestone of one of the first-generation Scions, repelling the trees. He hadn't led his portion of Rebel followers here simply to hide from the Imperials.
>>
>>3685573

Something didn't feel right. The Forest was the preventing the souls from leaving, but that had been for the sole purpose of incorporating them into its own thaumaturgic ecosystem - if Throne could be trusted. He was a better liar than I was. He was also speaking the truth, if a selective one. They're the best kind of lies because it's impossible to tell what went missing.

The tombstone was a sort of a dam, then. If Throne could be trusted. Shoring up all that anima of the dead for thousands of years.

>Despite all the questions marks, Throne's reasoning was compelling in its simplicity. Besides, it had been the Emperor or his Imperials that placed the tombstone here. My great-grandfather was not a very nice man. Whatever prompted him to place this here, if displacing it meant disrupting his plan, I was fine with it. [Uproot the tomb]

>"I think you're a fucking liar," I said candidly. "I think you are using part-truths to hide your full intent. So what I am going to do is walk the fuck away from here and forget everything that happened." Sergeant, I am so sorry. I've failed you. But I couldn't walk into a trap Throne was setting up. Many things the Emperor was - cruel, genocidal, deviously ingenious. But simple was not one of them. My suspicion was compounded by the fact that I was terminally unlucky. Things never resolved in such a clean fashion.

>Ladies of the waters. The amused fire of branches fallen. Did I dare borrow their powers to figure out what was truly going on? I had a vague idea of the dangers involved. A gamble, Throne had called it. And every gamble requires the currency of trade.
>>
>>3685582
>>Ladies of the waters. The amused fire of branches fallen. Did I dare borrow their powers to figure out what was truly going on? I had a vague idea of the dangers involved. A gamble, Throne had called it. And every gamble requires the currency of trade.


the questions here are, why bring the people here, why did he needed rebels if he wanted to do this, will the magic that has been stored here affect all those present?
>>
>>3685584
Five thousand Rebel. Six thousand legionaries. Two thousad Black Company. Thirteen thousand souls, all told. And that's just in the recent months.
>>
>>3685582
>Despite all the questions marks, Throne's reasoning was compelling in its simplicity. Besides, it had been the Emperor or his Imperials that placed the tombstone here. My great-grandfather was not a very nice man. Whatever prompted him to place this here, if displacing it meant disrupting his plan, I was fine with it. [Uproot the tomb]
Yes, let's be retarded and trust a man we murdered. I didn't get a chance to fuck us over at the memory loss event. So I want to take this chance now.
>>
>>3685587
hey, you are counting the souls of those that are still ali......wait....
>>
>>3685582

>Ladies of the waters. The amused fire of branches fallen. Did I dare borrow their powers to figure out what was truly going on? I had a vague idea of the dangers involved. A gamble, Throne had called it. And every gamble requires the currency of trade.

Amnesia: the quest
>>
Qm, Jokk talked to us, are husked people known for having a chat after being husked?
I'm starting to believe that this husking thing may have been an illusion
>>
>>3685594
Oh no, he was dying. Like in the stage where people usually go "I see the light" and then boom, die. The kind of "last word of the dead that can see where they burn in hell" thing. That is not to say that it might not be an illusion. I can neither confirm nor deny that.

I've not actually seen a person die, so I also can't confirm if that's a thing that happens. But it's a dramatic literary device(?) that gets used, sometimes.
>>
>>3685597
So what you're saying is that you need to go kill someone so you can see them die in person so you can be extra fluent in how ded people die?
>>
>>3685600
https://i.imgur.com/oBpmlN1.mp4
>>
>>3685603
I will definitely not open that
>>
>>3685604
I threw myself on that grenade. Oddly enough it's not a Goatse. If I get arrested by some alphabet soup enforcement organization because of it then I want to let you know that we should put more babies into hood. Maybe Dumpling as well.
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>>3685606
>put more babies into hood
a man of culture right here
>>
>>3685606
What the hell is a Goatse? I'm not googling it. Anyway, this vote will stand for a while since it's as pretty important one. It's pretty dead around /qst/ at this time, so we should be good to go maybe 2 hours hence.
>>
>>3685582
>Ladies of the waters. The amused fire of branches fallen. Did I dare borrow their powers to figure out what was truly going on? I had a vague idea of the dangers involved. A gamble, Throne had called it. And every gamble requires the currency of trade.
>>
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>>3685611
>What the hell is a Goatse? I'm not googling it.
Google It Coward
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>>3685614
4chan already ruined blueberry waffles for me.
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>>3685615
Don't let your fear control you QM. If you face your fear and fight it, you too can ascend beyond the boundaries of your shell. Beyond what most consider impossible or unheard of.
>>
>>3685582

>Ladies of the waters. The amused fire of branches fallen. Did I dare borrow their powers to figure out what was truly going on? I had a vague idea of the dangers involved. A gamble, Throne had called it. And every gamble requires the currency of trade.
>>
>>3685582
>>Ladies of the waters. The amused fire of branches fallen. Did I dare borrow their powers to figure out what was truly going on? I had a vague idea of the dangers involved. A gamble, Throne had called it. And every gamble requires the currency of trade.
>>
>>3685582

>Despite all the questions marks, Throne's reasoning was compelling in its simplicity. Besides, it had been the Emperor or his Imperials that placed the tombstone here. My great-grandfather was not a very nice man. Whatever prompted him to place this here, if displacing it meant disrupting his plan, I was fine with it. [Uproot the tomb]
Im gusing the emp is alive aomw where and yhirn wants to use the souls to come back to life or something but mybe we can steal them and become a god?
>>
>>3685584
>>3685591
>>3685612
>>3685807
>>3685816
>Ladies of the waters. The amused fire of branches fallen. Did I dare borrow their powers to figure out what was truly going on? I had a vague idea of the dangers involved. A gamble, Throne had called it. And every gamble requires the currency of trade.

The river wasn't close here. I couldn't hear the trickle of water. But fire? That was easy. I gathered branches fallen from the crowding trees, painstickingly sorting out the dried against the wet.

"What are you doing?" the ghost of Throne said, swinging upside down from a different tree, following my progress. The afterlife version was much more childlike. "Are you making a fire? It won't take you all night to remove the tombstone."

I ignored him. I tickled the fire out of a tinder with judicious striking of flint. To the kindling, I fed the branches. The flames lifted their heads. Goldeneye. As I thought, there was enough ambient sorcery here to spawn it. Just like the night when the she-wolf had first appeared. The Forest hasn't killed you yet. A pleasant surprise.

Time to deal with the devil. "You said you would help me, nameless spirit."

"Who are you talking to?" Throne demanded. I ignored him.

You called, when need came. Like a fool. Entertaining. The heat became stronger. Not help. Trade. Honest spirit, I, unlike those harlots of the waters.

I smiled wryly. "A spirit with principles." Just what I needed. "Fine."

>"I wish to see as the Ensorcelled see." I'd heard that some socerers could see spells as more than the puff of smoke and brilliant flashes of light.

>"I need to be able to manipulate spells. I suspect that an additional layer of sorcery has been cast on that tombstone that keeps a lid on the Forest's power source. Something," I eyed Throne, "that would benefit third parties."

>I asked for both Sight and Touch.
>>
Sorry for the late update, was outside all day. Then the heat melted my brain until I couldn't write. I fucking wish it was winter in real life...
>>
>>3686882
>>"I wish to see as the Ensorcelled see." I'd heard that some socerers could see spells as more than the puff of smoke and brilliant flashes of light.
>>
>>3686882
>I asked for both Sight and Touch. Fuck it go big or go home
>>
>>3686882

>"I wish to see as the Ensorcelled see." I'd heard that some socerers could see spells as more than the puff of smoke and brilliant flashes of light.

Lets make an informed decision
The price may be too high on the others
>>
>>3686882
>>"I wish to see as the Ensorcelled see." I'd heard that some socerers could see spells as more than the puff of smoke and brilliant flashes of light.
>>
Fucked the format, hold your posts - retrying
>>
>>3686924
>>3686994
>>3687004
>>"I wish to see as the Ensorcelled see." I'd heard that some socerers could see spells as more than the puff of smoke and brilliant flashes of light.

Finally! it crackled with excitement. I shall imbue with powers of the flame unimaginable- wait, just the sight? You don't want me to turn you into a sorcerer?

"Oh no, thank you. Being Ensorcelled seems too much of a hassle, on account of it irreversibly changing my soul and somesuch. Awfully kind of you to offer, but just the sight will do."

You want to be able to see like a sorcerer without the actual power of a sorcerer.

I thought for a moment. "And only for five minutes."

For five minutes.

"Yes. Don't want to go around seeing magic in the air all the time, eh? Now that would put me in a right old spot. Mars knows how much of them are floating around, well, everywhere."

I knew bugger all about magic, but merchants were something I'd dealt with aplenty. You never wanted them to feel as though you were in desperate need of their wares. Instead, you dealt with them in a position of aloof and mild interest.

Besides, the more you asked for, the more you had to sacrifice. There was always a cost for such things. Magic, especially so.

Look, it pleaded. I can actually Ensorcel you. Make you a genuine wizard. You can shoot fireballs out of your fingertips.

I cocked my head. "Does that require me to burn off parts of my body with irreversible damage and potentially crippling pain that I have to keep in my person for the entirety of my life?"

...yeeeeees, but eyepatches are very fetching, it argued (rather convincingly, I thought). And women love mysterious warrior-wizards with a burned hand and a limp.

I shook my head regretfully. "My occupation requires both hands. Compelling arguments on the eyepatch, but unimpeded vision is also necessary for battlefield surgeries." Like Xavier said, I was a model Scrivener. I added, "And I'm married." I figured that was close enough to a truth as any lie. I did plan to marry the three soon as we got out of this mess.

You're not what I expected, the imp in the flames said after a period of reflection.

"I get that a lot." To the surprise of many Sinaeans, I actually didn't eat babies raw. That was just unhygienic.

So temporary Sight for five minutes.

>"That's all."

>"Mmm, maybe the touch as well."

>"Just out of curiosity, how much sacrificing for a teensy bitsy magic?"
>>
>>3687070
>"Mmm, maybe the touch as well."

it seems the price won't be that high for temp stuff
>>
>>3687070

>"Just out of curiosity, how much sacrificing for a teensy bitsy magic?"
>>
>>3687070

>"Just out of curiosity, how much sacrificing for a teensy bitsy magic?"

But if we think its too much we fall back to

>"Mmm, maybe the touch as well."

I kinda liked this spirit, can we keep it?
>>
>>3687070
>>"That's all."
>>
>>3687094
>>3687103
>>3687111
>>3687132
>"Just out of curiosity, how much sacrificing for a teensy bitsy magic?"

I'm glad you asked! Hell is actually having an end of winter sale, only-

"Hell?" I inquired. "As in, Hades?"

No, no, Shaitan. I'm from the far west. Was brought here by one of the original Parthian companions of the Emperor, actually. It's a long story.

"I love long stories," I said politely, "but returning to the point. We're not talking about the morally ambiguous Hades, but Shaitan Ahriman, the Great Enemy, Foe of the Lord of Light etc. when we are talking about Hell."

We have VERY competitive rates! Only for the small, small price of a quarter of your immortal soul, you can become more powerful than you were this morning.

I nodded compassionately. "No thanks." Its face fell, as much as its visage could be called a face. "Though I might be interested in the touch..."

Very useful for wizard killers, I assure you-

"For five minutes."

It glared at me. Just toss me all of your tinder and we'll call it a deal.

"Five minutes, both for sight and touch?" I asked. You can never be too careful with magic-related things. It nodded grumpily, causing the flame to wriggle.

>"You know, this is some prime tinder I have in here..." [Haggle]

>"I think I'll keep half of the tinder. Just the sight, please!" [Just the Sight]

>"That sounds good enough. Shake on it? Oh, no hands. Well here you go." [Seal the Trade]
>>
>>3687173

>"That sounds good enough. Shake on it? Oh, no hands. Well here you go." [Seal the Trade]

Throw the tinder
>>
>>3687173
>"That sounds good enough. Shake on it? Oh, no hands. Well here you go." [Seal the Trade]
>>
>>3687173

>"That sounds good enough. Shake on it? Oh, no hands. Well here you go." [Seal the Trade]
>>
>>3687173

>"That sounds good enough. Shake on it? Oh, no hands. Well here you go." [Seal the Trade]
>>
>>3687197
>>3687206
>>3687212
>>3687215
>"That sounds good enough. Shake on it? Oh, no hands. Well here you go."

And that is how I, Scrivener Aurelius, temporary Lieutenant of the Black Company and permanent Trooper of late Sergeant's nameless platoon, came to see magic - for five minutes.

It was a kaleidoscope of lights. Did kaleidoscopes exist? No matter. It was a kaleidoscope of lights, and the entire fifty shades of colours were present in an ever-shifting orgy of wriggling things that seemed to pulse red and black and green and those spirally stuff that blazed like grapejuice with a light shining through. There were handsome specimens of almost-animals luminescent with what I would almost describe as holy light if they weren't so clearly arcane in nature, and not divine. I could tell, because divine creatures are usually depicted as being chaste, not... that. And the trees. Mars, the trees! They wombled. Like old men, I realised. They wombled and muttered and groaned and pish-poshed in all the range of oldmennish complaints. They were fingering the now visible boundary that kept them away from the tombstone, looking longingly at the gathered energy that doubtlessly lay within.

But I get ahead of myself. The view of the select few Ensorcelled that can actually see magic is of no interest to anyone. I stumbled my way to the tombstone, which was lit up like a Saturnalia festival tree - that is to say, doused with animal oil and lit on fire. Pretty as any of the light show that was festivalling in my eyes. But what I was looking for was this. A ritual circle. Scribbled magic by mortal hand or hands, wrought around the tombstone with archaic runes and symbols and wotsits.

I poked the runic circle with a branch. It frazzled upon contact. Maybe you could spell the ritual circle away, the fire imp said helpfully.

>"Maybe I can hack it." I brandished my ancestral sword and hacked at it.

>I looked at the fire imp. It looked back. I started digging around the flame, careful to keep the fire alive, and then dumped it onto the ritual circle.
>>
>>3687254

>I looked at the fire imp. It looked back. I started digging around the flame, careful to keep the fire alive, and then dumped it onto the ritual circle.

Guinea imp

Don't take it personally dude, I like you, if they won't take you back you can follow us, I'll have more of that prime tinder
>>
>>3687254
>>I looked at the fire imp. It looked back. I started digging around the flame, careful to keep the fire alive, and then dumped it onto the ritual circle.
>>
>>3687254
>>I looked at the fire imp. It looked back. I started digging around the flame, careful to keep the fire alive, and then dumped it onto the ritual circle.

Let the world burn
>>
>>3687279
>>3687296
>>3687309
>>I looked at the fire imp. It looked back. I started digging around the flame, careful to keep the fire alive, and then dumped it onto the ritual circle.

Thing about a Legion education is, you learn a lot more than just marching and standing still. There's the camp-raising, for one thing. Every self-respecting legionary knew how to plant wooden stakes the right-side-up and also-right-side-down. Not for the walls of the castrum, but as perimeter defence. Then there was digging trenches, building roads, raising watchtowers, and planning the bath - and sooner or later, you would have a city going. Which meant civilian traffic and market districts and -

The point is, I knew how to dig. And although I lacked the proper implements (spades and hammers were not part of Black Company standardised kit), my shortsword was more than enough in transporting the pile of heated dirt under the fire. I readied myself to jump away the moment the imp came into contact with the circle.

It did more than look at me when it realised my intent. You don't have to do this.

"I know." I thought back to my time with the imp, all four minutes of it. "But I can." I hefted the impromptu sword sideways, dropping its contents.

What followed was a spectacular shower of dirt and imp bits and flaming tinder, made all the more spectacular by the frazzling of the runic circle and the fact that I could actually see all the tortured colours of sorcery react to the cascading witchfire that ensued. I dove out of harm's way, landing face-first on snow-wet soil. Imps and runed circles, it seemed, did not go well together.

>"Alas, poor imp," I mumbled. "I hardly knew him." A little respect for the dead goes a long way. Exactly which way remains a matter of debate among sophists and theater groupies alike.

>"Serves him right." I had a dim view on bartering with souls. Gems and gold you can always replace, but a man's soul is a permanent thing. Once you start breaking them down, good luck patching them back whole.
>>
>>3687377
>"Alas, poor imp," I mumbled. "I hardly knew him." A little respect for the dead goes a long way. Exactly which way remains a matter of debate among sophists and theater groupies alike.
>>
>>3687377

>"Alas, poor imp," I mumbled. "I hardly knew him." A little respect for the dead goes a long way. Exactly which way remains a matter of debate among sophists and theater groupies alike.
>>
>>3687377

>"Serves him right." I had a dim view on bartering with souls. Gems and gold you can always replace, but a man's soul is a permanent thing. Once you start breaking them down, good luck patching them back whole.

I wonder how Throne is screaming at us right now, he never mentioned the circle so it was probably in his interest that it remained
>>
>>3687377
>"Alas, poor imp," I mumbled. "I hardly knew him." A little respect for the dead goes a long way. Exactly which way remains a matter of debate among sophists and theater groupies alike
>>
>>3687377
>>"Alas, poor imp," I mumbled. "I hardly knew him." A little respect for the dead goes a long way. Exactly which way remains a matter of debate among sophists and theater groupies alike.
>>
>>3687377
>>"Alas, poor imp," I mumbled. "I hardly knew him." A little respect for the dead goes a long way. Exactly which way remains a matter of debate among sophists and theater groupies alike.
>>
>>3687377

>"Alas, poor imp," I mumbled. "I hardly knew him." A little respect for the dead goes a long way. Exactly which way remains a matter of debate among sophists and theater groupies alike.
>>
Should have been "improvised spade", teach me to write while sleepdrunk

Lemme actually wake up and I'll update
>>
>>3687383
>>3687388
>>3687402
>>3687593
>>3688146
>>3688469
>>"Alas, poor imp," I mumbled. "I hardly knew him." A little respect for the dead goes a long way. Exactly which way remains a matter of debate among sophists and theater groupies alike.

In all the kerfluffle, I'd missed Throne going away. Or maybe his ability to appear was tied to the runed circle. Whatever the case, his magic was dispelled. The only magic here was the tombstone itself.

Two minutes left.

I paused. There was a massive pool of untapped power funneled within the tombstone, or maybe under. I was still new to this whole magical sight thing. What if I were to... partake in it? Just a little? No one would mind, save for the screaming tormented souls who were the source of this energy. No one alive would know. No one alive would mind.

I was still in my mercantile mindset. Merchant-Aurelius grumbled. Profits and operating costs. I'd come all the way here to save the souls of how many Husked, gotten nearly killed multiple times in the process - and what did I have to show for them? No magical swords, no kiss from forest maidens fair. I deserved a little recompense, didn't I?

>Yes. Just a little wouldn't hurt. I rather liked being able to manipulate sorcery. What was it that the imp had said? "Very useful for wizard-killers". I'd heard that the Varangians used to have an order of wizard-warriors, or witchers, who went around killing beasts too powerful for humans to take care of. Maybe drinking the soul of the tormented would make me the man that I always wanted to be.

>Saving Sergeant and the rest was recompense enough. Maybe if this was a fairy story, I would gain a runed sword or a mighty armour. But fairy stories have heroes in them. And a hero, I bloody well wasn't.
>>
>>3688538
>Saving Sergeant and the rest was recompense enough. Maybe if this was a fairy story, I would gain a runed sword or a mighty armour. But fairy stories have heroes in them. And a hero, I bloody well wasn't.

I'd rather not take anymore magic from the creepy death forest
>>
>>3688538
>>Saving Sergeant and the rest was recompense enough. Maybe if this was a fairy story, I would gain a runed sword or a mighty armour. But fairy stories have heroes in them. And a hero, I bloody well wasn't.
Never trust a demon when it comes to offering power.
>>
>>3688538

>Saving Sergeant and the rest was recompense enough. Maybe if this was a fairy story, I would gain a runed sword or a mighty armour. But fairy stories have heroes in them. And a hero, I bloody well wasn't.
>>
>>3688538

>Saving Sergeant and the rest was recompense enough. Maybe if this was a fairy story, I would gain a runed sword or a mighty armour. But fairy stories have heroes in them. And a hero, I bloody well wasn't.
>>
>>3688543
>>3688545
>>3688546
>>3688632
>Saving Sergeant and the rest was recompense enough. Maybe if this was a fairy story, I would gain a runed sword or a mighty armour. But fairy stories have heroes in them. And a hero, I bloody well wasn't.

The tombstone budged easily, as if it was made to be budged. It was just a matter of the lever principle after getting a foothold in the shape of a small, round rock. Feeling a philistine for scuffling around a priceless artefact from the early Imperial period as if it were a common mimic (of the dead variant) to be up-hauled and dumped away, I pushed and heaved and sweated. No appreciable magic occurred for my troubles. Not even a hiccup of a wisp.

"What am I doing?" I muttered grumpily, and kicked the slightly leaning priceless historical artefact. This had two effects. The first, and the more immediately notable to me, was the fact I had kicked a big chunk of rocky box in the edge. My body began repairing the broken toenail with good cheer, ignoring the pain response that sluggishly made their way up to the cerebral cortex. That (my body thought, as much as a body can think) would teach Brain to muck about with kicking rocks.

The second effect was far more visual than tactile.

An explosion of pent up souls of the dead rushed up from the ground and the air and myself, fleeing vigorously from what remained of their atomised remains. There had been ambient sorcery because the Husked had been ground and powdered and absorbed into other things in the fullness of time. What the stele did was simply to seal the soul within, preventing them from being accessed by the Forest.

I was blinded. Uncountable massive thaumaturgic visual signatures, which is to say, many big fucking lights, overwhelmed my senses. I should've closed my eyes before unleashing the storm of souls. There were no keening screams or joyous whoops of freedom. I hadn't asked for ears. I offered a silent prayer of thanks to the god of ears while squeezing tight my eyes shut.

Something touched my shoulder. I squinted open my eyes, afraid I was going to go actually blind. Most of the soul-things had dissipated. Few were still making sense of their sudden freedom. One was in front of me.

"Sergeant." In the flesh. Or at least, in the incorporeal things that make up that indefinable makeup of "us". "I'm sorry I was late," I said. It had been a hectic week.
>>
>>3688642

He smiled and patted my shoulders. His ethereal mouth moved. I should have asked for ears. "What?" I said. He shook his head, said more things. "No, I don't think you understand," I shouted in the instinctive way one does to a mute even when they can hear, just not speak. "I can't hear you. I can see and touch, but not hear."

He waved goodbye, uncomprehending to the last, and faded away.

"Should have asked for Speech as well," I sighed. But I hadn't had another tinderbox. No use crying over spilled imp, I always say. What's important was that they were free, my brothers in black. And for some reason, my heart felt lighter than it had been for months.

The Sight faded, and so too, I assume, did the Touch. I stared at the completely mundane (if a rather well-preserved example of an early Imperial grave design) tomb and the skeleton beneath. Of course there was a dead body below. It was a grave. The skeleton looked surprisingly ordinary, given the extraordinary individual it had been in life. Death made dust out of us all.

Not that there was much left behind on the man once known as Iases, but then again most of the texts on the first generation of Imperial Scions were jealously guarded and never ever donated to the Bibliotheca. I'd half thought of joining the censores to peek a gander at their forbidden section. The idea of being a censor revolted me, and prevented such idea from turning to action.

The skeleton wasn't alone. Clutched within his bony fingers was a beautiful specimen of a longsword, or the hilt thereof. Despite having been below the earth for thousands of years, it was shining as if forged yesterday, not a sign of rust or dulling. Varangian runes were etched on the blade, glowing softly, perhaps from the onrush of thaumaturgic blast that had just occurred. Blue rubies and red sapphires twinkled seductively from the pommel and the crossguard. I didn't need to heed my tingling earlobes to know that this thing was magic.

>Looks like I was going to get a reward for my good deeds, after all. I wrested the sword from the deceased, causing bonefingers to crumble to dust.

>I respectfully re-lodged the tombstone, leaving the skeleton with its treasure. That looked like something that might belong to a prince or a mighty champion of the people.
>>
>>3688644

>I respectfully re-lodged the tombstone, leaving the skeleton with its treasure. That looked like something that might belong to a prince or a mighty champion of the people.
>>
>>3688644
>>Looks like I was going to get a reward for my good deeds, after all. I wrested the sword from the deceased, causing bonefingers to crumble to dust.
>>
>>3688644
>>3688644
>Looks like I was going to get a reward for my good deeds, after all. I wrested the sword from the deceased, causing bonefingers to crumble to dust.

Be respectful about it™ He IS our great-great-etc relative. Also, i want a talking sword with my ancient ancestor. Just gotta be nice :^)
>>
>>3688644
>>Looks like I was going to get a reward for my good deeds, after all. I wrested the sword from the deceased, causing bonefingers to crumble to dust.
>>
>>3688644
>>I respectfully re-lodged the tombstone, leaving the skeleton with its treasure. That looked like something that might belong to a prince or a mighty champion of the people.

We are to much of romantic to take it. Gladius is good enough.
>>
>>3688644
>>Looks like I was going to get a reward for my good deeds, after all. I wrested the sword from the deceased, causing bonefingers to crumble to dust.
>>
>>3688644

>Looks like I was going to get a reward for my good deeds, after all. I wrested the sword from the deceased, causing bonefingers to crumble to dust.
>>
>>3688710
>>3688721
>>3688735
>>3688767
>>3688770
>>Looks like I was going to get a reward for my good deeds, after all. I wrested the sword from the deceased, causing bonefingers to crumble to dust.

Instead of a young bright-eyed kid with fucked up notions of being a hero whispered into his ears by a crazy old man (who had no reason being so close to the little boy in the first place) visiting this godforsaken grove to pull the sword from under the stone, it would be I, Aurelius, who would take it. Iases wouldn't mind. I was a relative. He was dead.

I wasn't planning on using it myself. A longsword like this is an entirely different beast compared to a gladius. It had greater heft, and a longer reach, with an emphasis on slashing. Sure, the extended range is useful on occasion, but I preferred to use my crossbow for enemies in the distance. I was more of a shortsword and dagger man myself, though I was fair with a lance when mounted. There were benefits to being an Alexandrian bird in the gilded cage of the Capital, and one of them was survival training.

And this thing was far too gaudy to use myself. I had something else in mind for this sword.

>I was going to sell it. The Black Company was in dire straits with the loss of more than three quarters of her men, not to mention the wagonloads of supplies destroyed in their haste to survive. [Liquidate sword]

>I planned to donate it to the Bibliotheca. Something like this belonged in a museum. Besides, we were going to need to have a powerful client. A cushy commission from the Capital was just the thing to put the Company back on its feet, and this sword would be the magic word to open the Golden Gate. [Use Sword as key to the Capital]
>>
>>3688912
Forgot to put my nameplate, this is me
>>
>>3688912
>I planned to donate it to the Bibliotheca. Something like this belonged in a museum. Besides, we were going to need to have a powerful client. A cushy commission from the Capital was just the thing to put the Company back on its feet, and this sword would be the magic word to open the Golden Gate. [Use Sword as key to the Capital]
>>
>>3688912

>I was going to sell it. The Black Company was in dire straits with the loss of more than three quarters of her men, not to mention the wagonloads of supplies destroyed in their haste to survive. [Liquidate sword]

The capital will only bring trouble, for once, they will probably kill our wives for not being worthy of Alexandrians

We escaped that place for a reason
>>
>>3688912

>I was going to sell it. The Black Company was in dire straits with the loss of more than three quarters of her men, not to mention the wagonloads of supplies destroyed in their haste to survive. [Liquidate sword]
>>
>>3688912

>I was going to sell it. The Black Company was in dire straits with the loss of more than three quarters of her men, not to mention the wagonloads of supplies destroyed in their haste to survive. [Liquidate sword]

Yeah, right, imagine taking Hood to the capital, not gonna happen.
>>
>>3688929
Aurelius isn't the first Alexandrian to join the Company, nor is he the last (see Halstat). And the Capital isn't only filled with Alexandrians. They're actually a distinct minority, with a sizeable servicing class supporting their lifestyle.

Somewhat like how Spartiates, the "true Spartans", had a ton of Helots that outnumbered them by a ton.
>>
>>3688912
>>I planned to donate it to the Bibliotheca. Something like this belonged in a museum. Besides, we were going to need to have a powerful client. A cushy commission from the Capital was just the thing to put the Company back on its feet, and this sword would be the magic word to open the Golden Gate. [Use Sword as key to the Capital]
>>3688940
Knowing this, the Capital might be a fun place for another story arc
>>
>>3688946
!!FUN!!

Either way, the Black Company will have to start looking for a new commission and roam around the population-rich southern Sinae to get more recruits. The south is also where all the coastal cities are, so you can get diverse types, exotic and otherwise.
>>
>>3688912

>I was going to sell it. The Black Company was in dire straits with the loss of more than three quarters of her men, not to mention the wagonloads of supplies destroyed in their haste to survive. [Liquidate sword]
>>
>>3688912
>>I planned to donate it to the Bibliotheca. Something like this belonged in a museum. Besides, we were going to need to have a powerful client. A cushy commission from the Capital was just the thing to put the Company back on its feet, and this sword would be the magic word to open the Golden Gate. [Use Sword as key to the Capital]
>>
>>3688912
>>I planned to donate it to the Bibliotheca. Something like this belonged in a museum. Besides, we were going to need to have a powerful client. A cushy commission from the Capital was just the thing to put the Company back on its feet, and this sword would be the magic word to open the Golden Gate. [Use Sword as key to the Capital]
>>
>>3688912
>>I was going to sell it. The Black Company was in dire straits with the loss of more than three quarters of her men, not to mention the wagonloads of supplies destroyed in their haste to survive. [Liquidate sword]

>>3688946
I( think it will be far from fun, I rather see new things at the coast like this>>3688951
>>
>>3688912

>I was going to sell it. The Black Company was in dire straits with the loss of more than three quarters of her men, not to mention the wagonloads of supplies destroyed in their haste to survive. [Liquidate sword]
>>
>>3688912
>>I was going to sell it. The Black Company was in dire straits with the loss of more than three quarters of her men, not to mention the wagonloads of supplies destroyed in their haste to survive. [Liquidate sword]
>>
>>3688912

>I planned to donate it to the Bibliotheca. Something like this belonged in a museum. Besides, we were going to need to have a powerful client. A cushy commission from the Capital was just the thing to put the Company back on its feet, and this sword would be the magic word to open the Golden Gate. [Use Sword as key to the Capital]
>>
>>3688929
>>3688937
>>3688939
>>3688952
>>3688959
>>3688965
>>3688966
>I was going to sell it. The Black Company was in dire straits with the loss of more than three quarters of her men, not to mention the wagonloads of supplies destroyed in their haste to survive. [Liquidate sword]

---

"..and that's how I gained the Sword of Iases," I finished. I held the gleaming sword in front of me, daring anyone to question my tale.

Captain didn't seem too bothered about it either way. "At least you got your spirit back." She looked skeptically at the longsword. "Selling that gaudy thing should help us. Bath has plenty of Alexandrians who would be interested in the Sword of Oasis."

"Iases."

"Ya-whatever." I deflated. Of course she didn't believe my story. Crying wolves and ghosts of sorcerers? I would doubt myself too. The last few weeks had been challenging for my sanity. "Now that you are in good cheer once more, Lieutenant Aurelius-"

"Interim Lieutenant."

"Grouchy Lieutenant Aurelius, we can continue with plotting out our course of action. As you know, we lost a lot of our pay back in the Ambush. We are in no strength to get them back from the Foresters, and the Company needs a commission once more."

"What were those Foresters?" It was strange that I hadn't encountered any of this apparently feared natives.

"You don't want to know." Captain was uncharacteristically tight-lipped. It wasn't that she was an open person, but she was clamming up out of apprehension. That was unusual. "There are few options left open to us. The reduction in our size also damaged our name. But there are still clients who are interested in hiring our services, now that we're significantly more affordable." She twisted her lips into a bitter sneer. "We're getting amalgamated."

"Jupiter's tits," I muttered. To be amalgamated was to be combined with other mercenary companies for the purpose of operational command. Smaller mercenary companies were often smooshed in together, since the client didn't want to bother with rivalries between bands of hundreds. The Black Company had managed to stave off that ignoble situation with our reputation and our numbers, but three hundred soldiers wasn't enough to warrant us a place in the command tents. "What are our options?"
>>
And fucked up the format again, please hold your votes
>>
>>3688999
Possible Commissions

>Legatus pro magistratus Quintus Fabius Belisarius
The Generalissimo of the West and below only the Magister Militum in martial authority, Lord Belisarius holds the Golden Pass that serves as the sole entry for the silk roads. Though he has five legions under his command, he is not above using mercenaries for the sake of preserving his precious legionaries. The Black Company will be one of many mercenary bands answering the call for Imperial service, put into pitched fighting against the desert-dwelling Maekarii.
[Good pay] [Desert campaign] [Guerilla Meatgrinder] [Campaign Size: Gargantuan]

>Legate Plinius Severus
The Empire has little care for the west, but that hasn't stopped Legate Severus from continuing his avaricious campaign in Khulan against the fugitive population of Varangians. The fabulous wealth of the Severian family stemming from their gladiator slave trade ensures steady pay, regardless of Imperial disinterest in the region.
[Fantastic pay] [Khulan Theatre] [Slave Raids] [Pseudovikings] [Campaign Size: Small]

>Prefect Sima Tan
Despite not being Alexandrian, the Sima Clan is extremely influential, especially in the densely populated southeastern coastlines. They have been authorised by the Capital to gather an army for a War of Righteousness against the barbarians of the gods-favoured islands of Wae. The ambitious Prefect Tan plans to lead the armada himself once it is constructed for the glory of the Sima Clan - and the Empire, of course. He wishes to have the famous Black Company at his side when the time comes.
[Decent pay] [Paid to Wait until Ships are constructed] [Dangerous Sea Crossing] [Island Wars] [Campaign Size: Large]
>>
>>3689010
>>Prefect Sima Tan

we will have some downtime to gather recruits and train them at the coast

that second one would be hard on the Captain, going after to enslave the remaining of her people, kek
>>
>>3689010
I should note that Golden Pass region is south-west, while Khulan is in the extreme northwest. The gods-beloved islands of Wae lies to the east across the sea.
>>
>>3689010

>Legatus pro magistratus Quintus Fabius Belisarius
The Generalissimo of the West and below only the Magister Militum in martial authority, Lord Belisarius holds the Golden Pass that serves as the sole entry for the silk roads. Though he has five legions under his command, he is not above using mercenaries for the sake of preserving his precious legionaries. The Black Company will be one of many mercenary bands answering the call for Imperial service, put into pitched fighting against the desert-dwelling Maekarii.
[Good pay] [Desert campaign] [Guerilla Meatgrinder] [Campaign Size: Gargantuan]
>>
>>3689010
>>Legatus pro magistratus Quintus Fabius Belisarius
>>
>>3689010
>Prefect Sima Tan
>>
>>3688999
Just to check how big was the Company before all this shit went down?
>>
>>3689044
It was either 2.5k or 2k, currently it's at ~300
>>
>>3689044
Little below 3k. We lost around 2k in forest
>>3685587
Two thousad Black Company
>>
>>3689010
>>Legatus pro magistratus Quintus Fabius Belisarius
>>
>>3689010
>Legatus pro magistratus Quintus Fabius Belisarius
any relation to Belisarius of the Byzantine?
>>
>>3689010

>Prefect Sima Tan.
>>
>>3689010
>Prefect Sima Tan.
>>
Did anyone recognize the names so we don't walk into another historical slaughter?
>>
>>3689141
Where's fun in that?
>>
>>3689141
Belisarius was quite successful in his conquest to Rome despite his lack of men or funding
>>
>>3689141
Well from what a quick google tells me, Sima Tan was a court astrologer and a quick skim didn't seem to say anything about teutburg forest 2
>>
>>3689141
>Implying it'll matter when the QM can just as easily pull a manuever on us to punish us for metagaming

>>3689010
>Prefect Sima Tan
>>
>>3689183
everyone knew Varus but we were like
"naaah, it's not that right?"
>>
>>3689196
Wasn't it also at a time where we were still at a really low rank? Low enough to where we'd get ignored on that front?
>>
>>3689014
>>3689043
>>3689105
>>3689138
>>3689183
>Prefect Sima Tan

It was decided that we would partake in the invasion of Wae. We would take the better part of the year marching southeast, to the urban coasts that made fertile recruitment ground. And a downtime sounded very nice after all we'd gone through in the Forest. The preparations of a war took months if not years. Shipbuilding further complicated the logistics chain. It would be months of rest and recreation before we were to cross the gangplanks and sail to the islands of Wae.

I made a small grave for Sergeant and Jokk and Barns and Nobles and all the others that had perished, but especially for Sergeant. We all have our spheres of interests. It is impossible to care for everyone. There was a man, I thought, who I might have been happy to have as a father. On his tomb I inscribed: In the month of Athyr, Iacob fell asleep.

The last of the snow finally melted by next week, and we journeyed south with the leaderless Rebel. They were planning to disperse in the countryside. Some of them would meet up with other Rebel enclaves. There were still thirteen Ensorcelled with the Rebel. Their struggle would continue.

Good riddance, I thought. We were going far and away, across the sea. No chance of seeing their faces again, Henn and One-Handed Elrich and the rest. The Rebel slowly disappeared on the way without needing to be prompted. Every day, less and less tents were being opened. Five miles to Bath, it was just the three hundred of us, Black Companymen all.
>>
>>3689269

Bath appeared like an alabaster beetle down the extinct volcano. We weren't planning to stay long here, only to resupply . Like all tourist cities, the rates were exorbitant. It was only slightly better than the cut-throat rates in neighbouring Crook. I rode in as part of the vanguard. The streets were bustling with news as usual, wives of politicians and concubines of generals making talk. The death of Prefect Varus had dissolved any casus belli the southern Prefect had, and he was returning home. A new Prefect had been appointed by the Capital, and he couldn't afford to appear rebellious by fighting against a fresh appointee.

No one seemed to remember me, despite my rather distinctive looks. The blue-blooded inhabitants looked at the travel-worn rider in black with dirty looks. To think, I had been the toast of the entire town. Fame is a mayfly. I directed my mount to the center of the city.

It was spring. There was a coolness in the air, a chill that belied the sun-filled morning. Maybe that was why the streets were empty here, secluded as it was from the baths and the markets and the temples. There was the familiar view of the mayor's palace, just as stately as my memory had drawn. In the marble silence of the small plaza, all was quiet save for a child playing with a ball in front of the gate. A well-dressed Magal caretaker watched her attentively.

The girl perked up from the sound of my horse's canter and turned around. She had hair as gold as my blood. Auburn eyes stared quizzically at my gold, then lit up with the light of recognition. "A-relly!"

A-relly?

Do you remember?
>3d100 DC33
>>
Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>
Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>3689275
>>
Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>3689275
>>
>>3689284
Thank you
>>
Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>3689275
Aaaaaa
I can't look, I don't dare look

Even if we don't remember, we have to try to be courteous, we know enough about what she represents to the others
>>
>>3689284
Anon, anon, blessed be anon
>>
Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>3689275
>>
Was the dc set or some of our choices at the forest influenced it?
>>
>>3689285
>>3689294
I almost fucking cried
>>
>>3689301
Recognising Honey was an auto-pass due to decisions made in Forest, but specifics like "A-relly" was unfamiliar
>>
Wholesome time with closer family, damn I missed them in the story
Maybe Hood won't even shoot Aurelius for taking too long
>poor girl ends up reluctantly crying her eyes out and trying to hide it.
>>
>>3689281
>>3689282
>>3689284
>Pass

The body remembers what the mind has long forgotten. Drunkards often make the empty motions of drowning out their sorrows even when forcibly parted from their poison by well-meaning relatives, reenacting the pageantry of happier times, times spent in neighbourly pubs and drinking dens more comfortable than his own mother's dinner table. The same applied today. A cheerful bright smile came unbidden on my moody face. And unconsciously, the words -

"I told you I'd be back."

I remembered nothing of the sort. But it felt right to say those words, somehow. She ran toward me. Her head reached up to my belly button. That was notable, because she hadn't when I left. Not that I could remember her ever reaching anyplace else.

"I missed you so," the girl said after five minutes of silent hugging and headpatting. "You were late for dinner."

"I know. I am very sorry."

"And so was Sarjant and Sister. Dumpling was very cross."

"I'm sure they are sorry too." Sister was back in the main body of the Company. Sergeant was resting among the daisies. Metaphorically. I didn't know if they grew daisies in the Forest. "I'm here now. You can stop breaking my ribs." She's grown so strong, I marvelled, despite not having any other measure of strength to relate to, not having met the girl until this very moment.

She shook her head. "You will go away again. And then Dumpling will be sad, and Shammie will try to distract me with sweets but I can't cuz Sister told me that too much sweets was bad for my teeth and Hood will start practicing her bow-an'-arrer even though she oughta not on account of her preg-nancy." Her words came out a rapid, jumbled mess, but I got the gist.

I laughed. It was refreshing to laugh. All that wintry Forest gloom had done things to my humour, but it felt like they were being stripped away, like barks from a tree. Jupiter, but I'd been in that godsforsaken Forest for too long. Even my metaphors were turning arboreal.

>"I'm not leaving anytime soon," I told her. "Not from you. Never from you." Tears welled up unbidden from my eyes.

>"Well I'll just have to hug you back then, shouldn't I?" A counterattack! Let her have a taste of her own medicine!
>>
>>3689334
>>"I'm not leaving anytime soon," I told her. "Not from you. Never from you." Tears welled up unbidden from my eyes.
>>
>>3689334

>"I'm not leaving anytime soon," I told her. "Not from you. Never from you." Tears welled up unbidden from my eyes.
>>
>>3689334
>Sarjant
I'm not crying
>>3689334
>>"Well I'll just have to hug you back then, shouldn't I?" A counterattack! Let her have a taste of her own medicine!
>>
>>3689334

>"Well I'll just have to hug you back then, shouldn't I?" A counterattack! Let her have a taste of her own medicine!
>>
>>3689334

>>"I'm not leaving anytime soon," I told her. "Not from you. Never from you." Tears welled up unbidden from my eyes.

Time to remember more
>>
>>3689345
>>3689356
>>3689382
>>"I'm not leaving anytime soon," I told her. "Not from you. Never from you." Tears welled up unbidden from my eyes.

Gaps existed. This Honey was a mystery to me. Missing memories, done by the water spirits or Throne or both. But I was alive and healthy, and Honey was at the first stages of her own lifespan. There were decades if not centuries left in me yet. Time enough to make more memories. Hope. To dream - to dare dream of better and brighter days.

Work-hardened fingers touched my battle-hardened ones. I lifted my head up to look into her eyes. "You're back," Shamaness said with a gentle smile. "We were waiting for you."

I held her hands tight. "Thanks for waiting." My eyes wandered to her belly. "Is that...?"

"Your child. It's a son." She guided my suddenly apprehensive hands toward her. I felt him kicking. "Doesn't that hurt?" I asked.

"Not as much as missing you." Women know all the right words. In their hands, men are as putty. What terrifying creatures they are! Let us hope that they will never seek to rule the world. "Dumpling is making dumplings. I taught her while you were gone."

Dumplings. My favourite. "How did she know I was coming back?"

Shamaness shook her head. "She didn't. So she made them every day."

"Dumpling fed me dumplings so much!" Honey said, bouncing up between the Magal princess and I. That explained her strength.

"Aurelius!" Theophilos lumbered out of the gate. He looked clean and healthy. Months of living in the city of Bath will do that to you. We hugged each other. "Sergeant is dead," I told him. "Lieutenant?"

His face fell for a moment at the news, but returned grinning. There would be time to mourn later. Now, we rejoiced in our reunion. "Better than ever. Lee outdid himself, Brother. You are an excellent teacher."

"Thank the gods," I breathed. I no longer had to make decisions that officers did.

"Are we leaving soon?" Honey asked, pulling my hand insistently.

I thought for a moment. "Do you like the sea?" I asked.
>>
>>3689503
---

"I've always hated the sea," he said conversationally. His companion grunted as his sole response, stretching mutely. Muscles rippled below layers of more muscles. Strong arms used to harpooning sharks and manta rays and storm eels tensed and relaxed. The two friends were warming up from a day's swim.

It was cold here. Always was. Yezo was the northmost of the four great isles of Wae, eternally snow-capped and occasional host to exceptionally enduring snowbears. The kase gods did not care for mindless beasts. It was the mindful ones that they were wary of.

"So loud. And repetitive." He tutted at the endless waves. "I want to go to the mainland." His silent friend snorted in derision. "You laugh, but you should have heard of the things that merchant talked about. Palaces of white rock! An entire city filled with golden eyed immortals!"

"Godforsaken barbarians," his friend replied. "Do not forget that, Takefusa. Only the four isles of Wae are beloved by the kami. Anything we need, the Mother provides. Everything else we can reap by force from the Peninsulars. Beyond here is savagery."

"But the things they must have seen," Kikuchi Takefusa said soulfully. "The stories they must tell to each other. The heretics have magic of their own, they say."

"Heresy. There is no end to the abomination of the alien."

"Who spat squid ink on your bed today, my dear Suenaga?" the younger of the two said with a jocular taunt. "Heresies and abominations! You listen to the priests overmuch."

"It is they who keep us safe. Not warriors in iron and leather. So yes. I listen to the priests."

"That's no way to talk to your master." The heir to the Kikuchi Clan waved an admonishing finger toward his friend and retainer.

His response was as cold as the icy ocean. "Buy slaves from the merchants if you wish for empty praises and servile sniveling."

Takefusa sighed and tossed a rock into the sea. It fell with a ploink. "We of the Wae are too isolated," he complained. "Too safe. There's nothing in the world to challenge us. Raiding the cowards in the Peninsula is boring since they don't fight back."

Suenaga didn't pay attention to the young master's grumbles. "Heed the messenger running toward us," he said. "It is an urgent message."

"What is there to be urgent about? Nothing ever happens here." The young master threw another rock into the sea and watched her gobble up the offering listlessly.

"Do you hear it?" erstwhile Suenaga said. "He is a messenger from the temple, not the palace. And he shouts of war."

"What, another uprising? My uncle will throw a fit."

"No." The godly man stared off to the distance, where the closest of the three Peninsular Kingdoms lay. On bright days, you could see all the way to Sillae. Bright days were rare in Yezo. The distance lay snow-fogged, unassuming.

Yet he stared, his grey eyes a startling mirror of the smoky horizon. "The heretics come."
>>
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390 KB
390 KB JPG
>>3689537
---
Autumn leaves reddened prettily everywhere. The Empire was rarely a happy place, but it was a busy one. And in fall, it could be beautiful.

Reed was as typical a port town of the Empire as any. Twenty per cent fishermen, fourty per cent Imperial Navy assets. The rest formed the servicing industry, outnumbering the primary - that is to say, the fishers - by a bit more than double. Prostitutes, restauranteers, merchants, and racketeers preyed on wide-eyed country boys and foreigners who came all the way here for one reason or another.

And then there were us. Black Company. One of the most feared and respected(?) groups of throatcutters and widowmakers anywhere. The glimmer of my mail armour made people avoid my way, like Moishe from an Eskhatan tale. Something about parting of the Sea or somesuch. That made me feel important. It was a good feeling.

"He's got a baby."

"Poor young 'un, to be eaten the night of the festival no less."

That did it for the good feeling. So it was the golden eyes, after all. Honey tugged my hand, deaf to the tut-tuts and whispers, pulling me forward. "Look, A-relly! Lanterns!" Sinaeans had a thing for the colour red, and littering the sky with paper lanterns. I usually disapproved of such frivolities. But somehow it was charming, now that I had someone to care for.

Hood looked flatly at the gently bobbing lights. "Fire hazard."

>"Where's your sense of childlike wonder, my love?" I said jokingly. A flash of steel appeared between her fingers. Where did she keep hiding those?

>"Beautiful and dangerous. Like y-" [DC50]
>>
>>3689640
>>"Beautiful and dangerous. Like y-" [DC50]

I missed best girl
shame we didn't see their reunion
>>
>>3689640

>"Where's your sense of childlike wonder, my love?" I said jokingly. A flash of steel appeared between her fingers. Where did she keep hiding those?

This was a tough choice, but I stayed with the one with love in it in the end.
>>
>>3689640
>"Beautiful and dangerous. Like y-" [DC50]
DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODGE!
>>
>>3689640

>"Beautiful and dangerous. Like you" [DC50]
>>
>>3689640
>>"Beautiful and dangerous. Like y-" [DC50]
>>
>>3689650
We still need to make her long lived and sacrifice the shit of things for it
>>
>>3689650
>>3689662
>>3689674
>>3689678
Give me three d100s
>>
Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>3689692
think of the baby, you don't want him to be an orphan!
>>
Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>3689692
Ok
>>
Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>3689692
>>
Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>3689692
>>
>>3689709
Noooo.
>>
Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>3689692
This is gonna hurt
>>
>>3689710
kek
>>
>>3689710
Nice anon

Things just got sexy!
>>
>>3689717
>>3689718
Did a tity pop out? Or have we been stabed so much we now get turned on by it?
>>
>>3689699
>>3689709
>>3689710
>"Beautiful and dangerous. Like y-"

I expected knives. The long sort, ones that you could easily carry in those looser clothes for the expectant mothers. Or one of those fancy itty bitty daggers that some women from families with the means to carry, small things intended to end the women's lives before they were defiled if such a time came.

I didn't expect a kiss.

"Wow," I said, dazed. Hood looked nonchalant as she dragged a giggling Honey and a discombobulated Scrivener along. I looked in passing at a scandalised Sinaean couple who were shocked at the misbehaving foreigners, waved lazily, and said, "Wow."

"You're being a nuisance," Hood said. Then she had the grace to blush. A tiny splotch of a thing, but a blush nonetheless. "It's the hormones," she said defensively, glancing back at me. "Next time, you bear the baby."

I grinned roguishly, or at least, what I hoped was those handsome mercenary smiles that middle-aged housewives loved to read about. "Oh, so there's a next time?"

"Not if you keep acting like a buffoon in public, Aurelius."

>"But you like me because I am a buffoon." I dared her to deny it.

>"I love you." The eloquence of love. I swear I am a better orator than this.
>>
>>3689736
>"I love you." The eloquence of love. I swear I am a better orator than this.
>>
>>3689736
>>"I love you." The eloquence of love. I swear I am a better orator than this.

like a buffoon of course
>>
>>3689736

>"I love you." The eloquence of love. I swear I am a better orator than this.

How can we make this woman last forever? Just how?
>>
>>3689748
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eWu-32hR4GY
>>
>>3689757
Time to sacrifice, we need a new imp, I'll gladly burn some limbs.
>>
>>3689771
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=05dT34hGRdg
>>
>>3689777
Its just not fair, a total tragedy, the brightest of the triple stars is the one that'll burn the fastest
At least as much time as us, or something like that, that's something to strive for, and to be utterly crushed if we fail.
>>
>>3689736
>"I love you." The eloquence of love. I swear I am a better orator than this.
>>
>>3689740
>>3689744
>>3689748
>>3689868
>"I love you." The eloquence of love. I swear I am a better orator than this.

Hood's face met Hood's palm. "I married this man." Behind her hand was a beaming face.

I said it again. "I love you."

"Yes," she said awkwardly. "So you keep saying." Honey looked between me and one of her stepmothers, taking in the rare moment of a discomfited Hood.

"I do do that, don't I?" I chuckled. "Have you ever wondered why?"

She evaded. "You're a buffoon."

"Your buffoon."

And here I will pause my scrivening before more intimate words are put to vellum, lest it give my enemies ammunition for slander against my character.

---

The Festival of the Burning Lanterns was a week-long celebration of the harvest. The connection between the lanters and agriculture was tenuous, if existent. I paid no mind. It was a cause for imaginative food and overpriced drinks.

In the coastlands, where more men fished and women whored than they put their hands to farming, it took on a more urban characteristic, flushed with new cartloads of wine of rice and millet from the countryside. Autumn was the season when foreigners arrived to engage in their annual trade with the goods of the Empire. Vendors put out their glitziest wares, and pleasure houses raked in half their yearly income then.

I was back to being a Trooper and Scrivener, a comfortable position to be. Trevain was now Sergeant, but our platoon had too few mercenaries to need a corporal yet. Theophilos would be the one. He had become close to Trevain - platonically - while Sister and Sergeant and I were out in the Forest. And now, we were on leave.

After kissing Hood goodnight, I sauntered my way to-

>a drinking house to meet with Sister and Raindrops. I had a feeling it was going to be trouble. Better that I be there than watch the aftermath of Raindrops corrupting Sister with his thieving ways.

>visit a shrine where Theophilos was praying. After the death of his archer sweetheart, he'd become even more religious, if you could believe that.

>the dingiest, ugliest, smokiest bar in Reed. Trevain had heard of an illegal fighting ring here, and was hoping to shrug the inactivity from his bones. I was there because, well, you don't go to this kind of places alone. Not even when you're Trevain.

>the Scriveners' tent. R&R made even the most disciplined among the troopers to go lax in their personal security. We got wounded streaming in all the time, every single one from drinking too much and getting into a fight. Plenty of practice for Lee for me to supervise.
>>
>>3689916
with me to supervise*
>>
>>3689916

>the dingiest, ugliest, smokiest bar in Reed. Trevain had heard of an illegal fighting ring here, and was hoping to shrug the inactivity from his bones. I was there because, well, you don't go to this kind of places alone. Not even when you're Trevain.

Time to get to know the new sarge better
>>
>>3689916
>the Scriveners' tent. R&R made even the most disciplined among the troopers to go lax in their personal security. We got wounded streaming in all the time, every single one from drinking too much and getting into a fight. Plenty of practice for Lee for me to supervise.
>>
>>3689916

>the dingiest, ugliest, smokiest bar in Reed. Trevain had heard of an illegal fighting ring here, and was hoping to shrug the inactivity from his bones. I was there because, well, you don't go to this kind of places alone. Not even when you're Trevain.
>>
>>3689916
>the dingiest, ugliest, smokiest bar in Reed. Trevain had heard of an illegal fighting ring here, and was hoping to shrug the inactivity from his bones. I was there because, well, you don't go to this kind of places alone. Not even when you're Trevain.
>>
>>3689916
>>the dingiest, ugliest, smokiest bar in Reed. Trevain had heard of an illegal fighting ring here, and was hoping to shrug the inactivity from his bones. I was there because, well, you don't go to this kind of places alone. Not even when you're Trevain.
>>
>>3689916

>a drinking house to meet with Sister and Raindrops. I had a feeling it was going to be trouble. Better that I be there than watch the aftermath of Raindrops corrupting Sister with his thieving ways.
>>
>>3689916
>the dingiest, ugliest, smokiest bar in Reed. Trevain had heard of an illegal fighting ring here, and was hoping to shrug the inactivity from his bones. I was there because, well, you don't go to this kind of places alone. Not even when you're Trevain.
>>
>>3689916
>visit a shrine where Theophilos was praying. After the death of his archer sweetheart, he'd become even more religious, if you could believe that.
>>
>>3689916
>visit a shrine where Theophilos was praying. After the death of his archer sweetheart, he'd become even more religious, if you could believe that.

Aww
>>
>>3689916

>visit a shrine where Theophilos was praying. After the death of his archer sweetheart, he'd become even more religious, if you could believe that.
>>
>>3690008
>>3690023
>>3690034
>>3690123
>>3690156
>the dingiest, ugliest, smokiest bar in Reed. Trevain had heard of an illegal fighting ring here, and was hoping to shrug the inactivity from his bones. I was there because, well, you don't go to this kind of places alone. Not even when you're Trevain.

"We don't want any trouble with lawmen here." The bouncer was a burly Sinaean who could have auditioned for the role of playing the Jolly God of Luck, if he had been more jolly. He was standing with his arms crossed in front of a heavy wooden door which led to the basement.

Trevain shrugged. "He's my second."

"You never said nothin' about no goldeneyes." He shifted uncomfortably. "What is he, the spooks?" Looks like Imperial Intelligence also had a bad name here.

"He's Black Company."

"Maybe I shouldn't have come," I said. "Theophilos is much better at this sort of thing." By which I meant glowering and staring people down.

"He's just being difficult," Trevain said blandly. "I don't like it when people are difficult."

The implied threat understood, the bouncer unbolted the door and let us through. He wasn't going to go through the trouble of trying to bounce members of the Black Company. Everyone knew we were here at the invitation of Prefect Tan himself.

Inside was a racuous basement even dingier and smokier than upstairs. A few eyes met us with curiosity, but swerved back to watch the show. Two figures were slugging it out in the centre where the end of the crowd demarcated the start of the fighting zone. It wasn't even a circle, and there were no protective barriers for the audience. It was a bit like going into a dead whale's open mouth, I felt, the ceilings and walls ribbed with wooden beams and all. It smelled the part, too.

"The whole place is a death trap," I complained. "Only one exit, and that up a stairway? That can't be up to code."

Trevain got my attention back from the wooden beams (highly flammable) that supported the whole superstructure with an elbow to the rib. "Watch the smaller one. Tell me what you see."

I watched. Then I said, "Who let that kid into the fight?"
>>
>>3691672

The kid was not even a boy. She had her hair cut like a boy, and was lean and athletic like a very short fisherman. But even beneath the armour that covered her modesty, it was clear she was of the feminine persuasion. Raven-black hair marked her as a Peninsular, or one of those Wae islanders. The latter had been plundering and reaping the former for thousands of years, long enough that the two were hardly distinguishable, genetically speaking.

She was using some kind of a bastard sword that did a long curve. No shield, I noted with disapproval. Two-handers were fine and well for large men. She was hardly the type.

"That kid is the reigning champion of this rathole," Trevain said. There was no discipline in her attacks. Gutter fighting, we called it. A lot of the recruits from the urban gutters of the Sinaean megacities had it. I watched in horror as she proceeded to cut the other man into ribbons. "She's good."

High praise from Trevain. "I guess she would have to be. Sinaeans don't care much for Peninsulars."

"Wae."

"Even worse." The islanders of Wae were a pirate people, and the reason the Imperial Navy had such a strong presence in every single port city. They liked to nip around in their fast light crafts and jump up to merchantmen to loot, and if there were women, kidnap. Reed was not a good place for a lone Wae kid to be. "Trying to recruit her?"

He shrugged. "We'll see. I want to get her measure while she's fighting actual mercenaries, not the local thugs. And we'll have to knock out the gutter fighting out of her if we do. No place for that in an organised battle."

Trevain was a great believer in organised battles. I was skeptical. Every battle I saw, chaos had reigned.

As the dead man got dragged out of the vaguely cleared area that defined the arena, Trevain tapped my shoulder. "Our turn."

"Our turn?"

"You're my second. If I go down, you'll be continuing in my stead. Don't worry, we're newcomers. They'll start us off easy." He winked as he stepped into the empty floor, slick with the blood of the previous fallen.

And proceeded to get knocked out in a single hit against a peasant with a club. "Ow. Good luck, Aurelius," he said on the floor. That was a thoroughly unconvincing performance.

>"Oh, I don't know him," I said when eyes turned toward me. "Go on, do your thing." Trevain squinted reproachingly as his gears were looted. He stayed faithful to his knocked-out routine to the end, even if he was terrible at it.

>The only reason I was here was for insurance. This was insurance fraud. "Oh, what the hell." I jumped into the arena.
>>
>>3691677

>The only reason I was here was for insurance. This was insurance fraud. "Oh, what the hell." I jumped into the arena.
>>
>>3691677
>>3691677

>The only reason I was here was for insurance. This was insurance fraud. "Oh, what the hell." I jumped into the arena.
>>
>>3691677

>The only reason I was here was for insurance. This was insurance fraud. "Oh, what the hell." I jumped into the arena.
>>
>>3691677
>The only reason I was here was for insurance. This was insurance fraud. "Oh, what the hell." I jumped into the arena.

Trevain you absolute bitch
>>
>>3691677
>>The only reason I was here was for insurance. This was insurance fraud. "Oh, what the hell." I jumped into the arena.
>>
>>3691677
>>The only reason I was here was for insurance. This was insurance fraud. "Oh, what the hell." I jumped into the arena.
>>
>>3691770
He's punishing us for not letting his Sarge/Aurelius ship set sail.
>>
>>3691677

>The only reason I was here was for insurance. This was insurance fraud. "Oh, what the hell." I jumped into the arena.
>>
>>3691718
>>3691725
>>3691763
>>3691770
>>3691772
>>3691775
>>3691788
>The only reason I was here was for insurance. This was insurance fraud. "Oh, what the hell." I jumped into the arena.

"Hold up," the peasant said, holding up his hands. "I'm not fighting an Alexandrian. You lot are cheats! I call foul!"

Finally, a man of reason in this den of iniquity. I made ready to haul the tricksy sergeant up to his feet. I was going to Have a Word with him later, and they were not going to be the kind of words that complied with Company regulations on insubordination. I was feeling insubordinate.

Before I could make any long-reaching decision that would affect my career within the Company, the peasant dropped his club glumly, and said, "I concede!" The row of would-be-fighters behind him looked at each other.

"Yeah, me too."

"Not dealing with a goldeneye. Might suck me own soul out."

"Missus'd kill me if I tangled with one of those lot and brought back a goldy-bloody shirt."

I watched in horror as the tournament participants thinned, prematurely escalating my position within the rankings. "Aren't you the lucky one," the judge-cum-announcer said sourly. "Newcomers don't get to fight the regulars for days, if they're lucky. Well, in you go, then," he waved at the next non-fleeing contestant. Before I could concede, a firm and well-placed push placed me in the middle of the battleground.

>He was a big guy. For me. I was not exactly a dwarf myself, being a head taller than Trevain. This guy had an entire torso on me. Two barrel-like arms flanked his treetrunk of a body, carrying a two-handed warhammer that looked like meat softener in his hands.

>A reedy fellow if I've ever seen one. He was wearing a dark, mysterious trenchcoat with a black and mysterious headband on his forehead. The real clue to him being an arse was the two longswords he was sporting. Dual wielding. That's just a way to insult swordsmiths twice as efficiently.
>>
>>3691889

>He was a big guy. For me. I was not exactly a dwarf myself, being a head taller than Trevain. This guy had an entire torso on me. Two barrel-like arms flanked his treetrunk of a body, carrying a two-handed warhammer that looked like meat softener in his hands.
>>
>>3691889
>>A reedy fellow if I've ever seen one. He was wearing a dark, mysterious trenchcoat with a black and mysterious headband on his forehead. The real clue to him being an arse was the two longswords he was sporting. Dual wielding. That's just a way to insult swordsmiths twice as efficiently.

this is the easiest
>>
>>3691889
>>A reedy fellow if I've ever seen one. He was wearing a dark, mysterious trenchcoat with a black and mysterious headband on his forehead. The real clue to him being an arse was the two longswords he was sporting. Dual wielding. That's just a way to insult swordsmiths twice as efficiently.
>>
>>3691901
My dear fellow, I endeavour to give a pro and a con to each choice. Often more than one cons, come to think of it. Each choice is equally valid in different ways!

For example, some anons with keen deductive skills reasoned that the names of the potential clients held clues as to the nature of the job, and the possible futures that lay within. What they neglected to note (or keep mum about) were the circumstances. Thus, the seemingly inoffensive Prefect Sima Tan was chosen, leading to the Black Company accepting the commission to cross the sea and invade the islands of Wae.

That is not to say that Prefect Sima Tan was the wrong choice. Every choice is right, each one in their own ways.
>>
>>3691889
>>He was a big guy. For me. I was not exactly a dwarf myself, being a head taller than Trevain. This guy had an entire torso on me. Two barrel-like arms flanked his treetrunk of a body, carrying a two-handed warhammer that looked like meat softener in his hands.
>>
>>3691889
>>He was a big guy. For me. I was not exactly a dwarf myself, being a head taller than Trevain. This guy had an entire torso on me. Two barrel-like arms flanked his treetrunk of a body, carrying a two-handed warhammer that looked like meat softener in his hands.
>>
>>3691912
shit

we are the Mongol invasion of japan, and the fucking island is said to be protected by the gods
we will sink in a hurricane and everyone we love will die
kamikaze in our ass
FUCKING HELL QM

I was just saying that the edgy guy was the easiest to fight against, not that the mission was easy, now we have to invest in floating devices for our platoon, or preferably wait for everyone to go there before us

let's hope the prefect troops are the ones that sink and we have to fight a defensive battle there with little numbers, at least we will die fighting and not drowning
>>
>>3691912
>That is not to say that Prefect Sima Tan was the wrong choice.
It was terrible one
>>
>>3691917
>>3691918
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SJUhlRoBL8M

It's not all doom and gloom, mind. A little R&R&R (Rest & Recreation & Recruitment) is bound to put the Company to a healthier position!
>>
>>3691920
well, if the prefect dies we can just offer the nips our services
>>
>>3691892
>>3691914
>>3691916
"Tenderiser," I said.

"Come again?" Trevain was rolling a raw egg against his perfectly fine eyes with enough theatrics to fool a blind Scrivener.

"Meat tenderiser, not softener."

The sergeant looked at the warhammer. "Ah. I can see where you are coming from. Still, not the first time we've had a tiff with the riff-raff, eh, old bean?"

"If you call me old bean one more time-"

The world never found out what I would have done if someone had the temerity to call me an old bean one more time. This was due to the mass of crude iron wedged on top of half a tree trunk that was definitely not a meat tenderiser endeavouring to do what was nevertheless the role of said culinary implement, and doing a poor job at it to my eternal relief. Ground thudded and men of uncertain leggings wobbled as the vibration shook the foundations over the basement.

"Gee willickers," Trevain said artificially. He was enjoying being normal, the bastard. The ordinary Trevain would never say anything like "gee willickers" or "old bean". The ordinary Trevain was a smooth operator and inadvertent womaniser, given to fetching the papers for Sergeant and doing the papers for Sergeant and making sure Sergeant got drunk enough to forget some of the miseries of the world, but not all of it, because that would mean he would be black-out drunk. Possibly dead. He wouldn't have been the first sergeant to go out with his brain marinated in alcohol.

This was a Trevain traumatised and tenderised by authority.

>A whimper of sympathy squeaked in my heart for the man who'd never wanted to fill Sergeant's shoes. Not because they smelled (which they did) but because of the unfortunate implications in doing so.

>Jumping Jehoshaphat, that thing almost took me feet off! was my only thought on the matter as the ground pulveriser thudded against the spot of the ground only recently vacated by my leg.
>>
>>3691922
>>A whimper of sympathy squeaked in my heart for the man who'd never wanted to fill Sergeant's shoes. Not because they smelled (which they did) but because of the unfortunate implications in doing so.

and we can't even try to insult him by calling him a faggot since he, in fact, is one
>>
>>3691922
>>A whimper of sympathy squeaked in my heart for the man who'd never wanted to fill Sergeant's shoes. Not because they smelled (which they did) but because of the unfortunate implications in doing so.
>>3691920
I like how you put [Dangerous Sea Crossing] in there and they picked it anyway. Not like amphibious landing wasn't deadly on itself.
>>
>>3691922
>>Jumping Jehoshaphat, that thing almost took me feet off! was my only thought on the matter as the ground pulveriser thudded against the spot of the ground only recently vacated by my leg.
>>
File: MongolInvasion.jpg (87 KB, 600x380)
87 KB
87 KB JPG
>>3691931
[kamikaze intensifies]
>>
>>3691931
I know right. At least Belisarius won most of his wars even if it didn't mean anything for the empire in the long run.
>>
>>3691922

>A whimper of sympathy squeaked in my heart for the man who'd never wanted to fill Sergeant's shoes. Not because they smelled (which they did) but because of the unfortunate implications in doing so.
>>
>>3691968
yeah, but it was quite clear that he wanted to preserve his legions and would give the company the worst possible jobs ever and maybe even hold up on supplies and water in the desert, we just have to face it, there's going to be shit wherever we go, its merc life
>>
>>3691926
>>3691931
>>3691973
>A whimper of sympathy squeaked in my heart for the man who'd never wanted to fill Sergeant's shoes. Not because they smelled (which they did) but because of the unfortunate implications in doing so.

My next line of thought was cut off by a bone-vibrating slam, once more a lucky miss. I couldn't evade forever. That required eternal luck. In contrast, the attacker only needed one instance of luck.

Fiddled with the numbers a bit to make less hundreds

Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy
>Combat = +60DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Chainmail shirt +5DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC]
>Armour Value = 25AV [Chainmail shirt +10AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Roundhelm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
VS
Big Guy: Healthy
>Combat = 46DC[Healthy +5DC, Prodigious Strength +3DC, Mutant +10DC, Dirty Fighting II +5DC, Crude scale mail +3DC, B. F. Warhammer +20DC]
>Armour Value = 5AV[Crude scale mail +5AV]
>Special = Big Fucking Warhammer (+1 Damage)

Personal Combat DC64
>3d100
>>
Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>3692008
>>
Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>3692008
>>
Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>3692008
>>
>>3692036
>>3692013
>>3692012


Arrelius really is a beast at combat.

>>3691982
Nah bigger numbers are better means that d100 has less random to it when we are badass :p
>>
>>3692057
Aurelius just don't want no trouble
>>
Even though I'm late to the conversation, I wanted to say I voted for Sima for the chance to get more recruits. And now that the revelation that we're in the not-mongol invasion of japan, I can now say that I also want to see Aurelius go up against Weeblord Bullshit like the protagonist from Nioh on roids.
We might even get a chance to punch a famous Warlord or two in the face.
>>
>>3692012
>>3692013
>>3692036
>Double Crit: Enemy Disarmed
>3 Success: Enemy is Wounded

I rolled away with an agility I hadn't known I possessed. Something from running from a big predatory had triggered my Flight response right proper. Problem was, it wasn't tiring the big guy. He had to be some kind of a mutant. Cities as populated as Reed, you get some weird customers. They usually sacrifice lifespan for strange and superhuman feats. If I just kept running around, someone was bound to get hurt.

Someone other than me. There were children in the audience, for Marssake. The top champion of the Mended Drum's illegal fighting ring included. My morality-o-meter tingled. "Oh, bugger." I turned around. "Fine. You asked for it."

"I asked for what?" he asked. I sashayed my way (the product of six months of interpretive dance in the Schola) through two frustrated downslams and stuck my gladius with the pointy end, right in the nook between the humerus and the scapula. That is to say, the armpit.

"Aw," the big guy said. "I don't feel my arm anymore." The B. F. Warhammer fell from his grasp. The owner followed. Six men pushed the prone giant and his oversized meat tenderiser out of the arena. No one cheered. They looked rather glum, actually. The crowd had been fancying a bit of Aurelius, bloody rare, served on the Floor of the Mended Drum's Basement. Compliments to the chef.

"You weren't s'posed to disarm him," the judge said critically. "Usually people say that as a metaphor."

"Last I checked, this wasn't the Dead Poets' Society," I replied. "Fuck your metaphors and be thankful he's alive." Not that I had any compunction in killing. He had a weapon, see? Fair was fair.

"Just try not to put anyone else out of commission for good next time," he scowled. "Only the champion gets to do that. Too expensive, otherwise. Next, you'll be fighting with-"

"I like that brat," a voice sounded from behind him. The judge and I turned to look at the source of the saucy sound. It was the Kid. "Skip the rest, Feng. I'm taking a crack at the Goldie."

"If'n you say so," Feng the Judge said meekly. The crowd gasped.

>"I don't fight with no girl," I said, turning my nose up. I was getting into character of being a thug underground. Also I had reservations of fighting a little girl. They really ought to put age restrictions for this kind of things.

>"No, you're the brat!" I said. I didn't have a better comeback at that time. Sue me.

>"Alright then." Trevain wanted to test the girl? Let him have his test.
>>
>>3692169
>no you're the brat.
>stick our tounge out.
>>
>>3692169
>>"No, you're the brat!" I said. I didn't have a better comeback at that time. Sue me.
>>
>>3692169
>"Alright then." Trevain wanted to test the girl? Let him have his test.
>>
>>3692187

+1
>>
>>3692169

>"Alright then." Trevain wanted to test the girl? Let him have his test.
>>
>>3692169
>>"No, you're the brat!" I said. I didn't have a better comeback at that time. Sue me.
>>
>>3692187
>>3692194
>>3692200
>>3692221
>"No, you're the brat!" I said. I didn't have a better comeback at that time. Sue me.

Then I stuck out my tongue. I liked to go the extra mile. Trevain sighed behind me.

"I'll enjoy cutting you up," the girl said with a vicious smile that had no place in a young un's face.

Now that was uncalled for. We'd escalated from playground taunts to Miss Murder all in the space of a single conversation. "Bit violent, isn't it?"

"You just disarmed a man for life."

"Yeah," I shrugged, "but I'm an adult."

It was the education. I've always said that compulsory scholae across the entire Empire was a bad idea. Children learning rhetoric and arithmetic and self-defence and aggressive self-defence. Where was the time for being children? Nowhere, that's where. I was a product of the Schola myself. And look where I turned up. A bloody mercenary company. Not that I disliked it here, mind you. They were more of a family than my real family ever was.

But an adolescent ring fighter! "Don't they have workhouses in Reed?" I enquired politely. Kid frowned, nonplussed. "They do."

"Poorhouses?"

"'Course not, don't need lazy poor to drain from society!"

"Jails?"

"Privately owned and operated," she said, with some measure of pride. "All according to the most modern ideas. Retribution 'stead of Rehabilitation." The audience nodded judiciously. They were all quite proud with of their progressive criminal justice system. No one knew its operation parameters, them being, well, criminals.

And the justice system in Reed was criminal. It was something of a highlight for the life of any ne'er-do-well from the sticks to be introduced into it. Your ordinary thug managed to mug a man or two a day, but the justices of the Special Extra-Political Subclave of Reed (privately owned and operated by the Sima Clan) sent hundreds into the slammer every hour. Now that was progress.

"Then," I said, "you have a place to eat and be fed. Why all the fighting?"

"Cuz I like it, you mo-ran," she said, staring at me with unmixed pity. "And crime pays."

I wondered if she ever knew a life outside the criminal dens.

>"Oh." That about justified going full head on without holding back, I thought.

>I didn't want to hurt the kid. Not out of some skewed sense of morality - I just want to make sure no one thinks I'm a softie, here. But Trevain wanted her mostly intact. I think. [Hold Back DC modifier]
>>
>>3692242
No one knew its operation parameters better*
>>
>>3692242
>>I didn't want to hurt the kid. Not out of some skewed sense of morality - I just want to make sure no one thinks I'm a softie, here. But Trevain wanted her mostly intact. I think. [Hold Back DC modifier]
>>
>>3692242
>>I didn't want to hurt the kid. Not out of some skewed sense of morality - I just want to make sure no one thinks I'm a softie, here. But Trevain wanted her mostly intact. I think. [Hold Back DC modifier]
>>
>>3692242
>"Oh." That about justified going full head on without holding back, I thought.
>>
>>3692242

>I didn't want to hurt the kid. Not out of some skewed sense of morality - I just want to make sure no one thinks I'm a softie, here. But Trevain wanted her mostly intact. I think. [Hold Back DC modifier]

Can't recruit if she's dead, travian owes us and Hood'll kill him if we end up maimed or dead here
>>
>>3692265
>>3692266
>>3692307

Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy
>Combat = +50DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Chainmail shirt +5DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC, Holding Back -10DC]
>Armour Value = 25AV [Chainmail shirt +10AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Roundhelm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
VS
Kid: Healthy
>Combat = 54DC[Healthy +5DC, Adolescent -3DC, Tragic Background +5DC, Child Soldier +5DC, Elite (Criminal) +5DC, Skilled III +6DC, Dirty Fighting V +11DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Quality brigandine +6DC, Ensouled tachi +15DC]
>Armour Value = 6AV [Quality brigandine +6AV]
>Special = Superior Wae Folded Steel (-10AV), Ensouled Weapon (+1 Reroll per battle)

Personal Combat DC46
>3d100
>>
Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>3692315
>>
Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>3692315
wew
>>
Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>3692315
>>
Reroll the 88?
>>
>>3692325
>>3692328
>>3692332
Would any of you gents like to use a reroll for your missroll? Only for your own rolls, however.
>>
>>3692332
>>3692328
>>3692325
>>3692315
So that's a "Bullshit! Ultra Critical Fail Attack!" result I assume.
>>
>>3692337
>>3692335
Honestly I think I should not reroll because if I get a double fail then that's straight up potential loss of limb or life for Aurelius in the end.
>>
>>3692342
Do keep in mind this is just a doubles crit fail, not an actual crit
>>
Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>3692345
Rerolling my 77
>>
>>3692349
At least its not a double
>>
Rolled 33 (1d100)

AV
>>
>>3692325
>>3692328
>>3692332
>>3692349
>Utter Failure
>Doubles Critical Fail: Disarmed
>Current Status: Injured

"That's not steel at all," I said, when the convincingly shiny blade bit my chainmailed shoulder. It hurt like hell, but I knew what actual steel (rare as they were) felt like. And this was not it.

"How do you mean?" Kid asked. She was triumphant. Positively beaming, in fact. Beating a Black Companyman would do wonders for her reputation. And down here in the basement, reputation equalled payment. People didn't want to watch peasants beat up each other.

Well, that was not entirely accurate. There was definitely a market for such a thing. Nobles loved it. Prefect Tan, for one. He always got premium seats when he had the time off work. Not that I knew this then.

But everyone loved Named fights better. 'arvard the 'ardhead VS Wu of the Tang Clan. Winnie VS Pooh. Kid VS Soldier of the Black Company. Well no, that wasn't quite right. I wasn't a soldier. Didn't have the crippling daddy issues that Sergeant had, for one. Gods rest his soul.

As I was saying.

"Not steel," I declared. The cosmetically admirable blade did a sort of chip sound as I tapped it with my nail. "Wae doesn't even have halfway decent quality iron. The only thing keeping this sword together is the magic."

I thought back to the burly fighter that she'd cut up. Of course she'd been successful. That's what happens when you don't wear bloody armour. Even paper can cut flesh. And magic was a thing of misdirection and subversion of expectations, even the real ones. The Kid's mistake was attacking someone with actual armour, and the understanding that Wae smiths made do with shitty sand-pebbled iron.

Kid's smile crumbled. "How do you know-"

"And souls don't belong in a sword," I interrupted angrily. "Gimme that here and I'll properly dispose of it." That really made the Kid stagger back. I guessed that I was the first person to be able to sense magic in her life.

I was no saint. I'd stolen some, murdered some, and participated in wholesale killing even before joining the Company. But I did not fuck about with the immortal souls of the deceased. It was fairly obvious when you knew it was magic but had no runes. I'd heard of swords like this before, but to actually see one, and in the hands of a child, no less. It made me sick.

"Over my head body," she said. Her eyes told me that she meant it.

>"I really don't like beating up children, but I'll make an exception this one time." [Remove Holding Back DC modifier]

>"I won't kill you," I said. "I'll just incapacitate you. That should be enough to take that abomination from your hand."
>>
Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>3692315
>>
>>3692398
>>"I really don't like beating up children, but I'll make an exception this one time." [Remove Holding Back DC modifier]
>>
>"I really don't like beating up children, but I'll make an exception this one time." [Remove Holding Back DC modifier]
>>
>>3692398
>>"I really don't like beating up children, but I'll make an exception this one time." [Remove Holding Back DC modifier]
>>
>>3692398
"I really don't like beating up children, but I'll make an exception this one time." [Remove Holding Back DC modifier]
>>
>>3692404
>>3692413
>>3692417
>>"I really don't like beating up children, but I'll make an exception this one time."

Scrivener Aurelius: Injured
>Combat = +40DC [Injured -5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Chainmail shirt +5DC, Iron buckler +5DC]
>Armour Value = 25AV [Chainmail shirt +10AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Roundhelm +10AV]
>Special = Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
VS
Kid: Healthy
>Combat = 49DC[Healthy +5DC, Adolescent -3DC, Tragic Background +5DC, Child Soldier +5DC, Elite (Criminal) +5DC, Skilled III +6DC, Dirty Fighting V +11DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Quality brigandine +6DC, Ensouled tachi +10DC]
>Armour Value = 6AV [Quality brigandine +6AV]
>Special = Ensouled Weapon (+1 Reroll per battle) Magical effect partially dispelled!

Personal Combat DC41
>3d100
Divine Health (+1 Wound) DC33
>1d100
>>
>>3692423
Dice+1d100
>>
Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>3692423
We will die here
>>
Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>3692423
>>
Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>3692423
>>
Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>3692423
>>
Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>
>>3692447
>>3692456
>>3692458
>>3692464
>1 Success - 1 Damage dealt and received
>Current Status: Wounded
>Divine Health: FAILED

The girl was good. Very good. She didn't have the kind of discipline that made a real sol- mercenary, but she'd been living hand to mouth in the gutters. I noticed her brigandine, sparkling with newness. Hand to mouth in the gutters until recently, then. But surviving that was itself an achievement. Criminals hardly thought about the children, unless they were of that certain kind which thought about children too much.

"Still standing?" she said, bruised in the face. I didn't like hitting children. I liked dying even less. Ichor spilled and curdled round the cooling blood on the floor. Testament to the dead and the wounded of the fighting club below the Mending Drum.

I was, in fact, still standing. Nice thing about the Wae's weapons. They didn't have the kind of penetration real weapons did. But it hurt and bled me all the same. I reckoned one more hit would send me straight to Sergeant.

"That's enough," a cool, calm, and collected voice chilled behind me. "Aurelius, take a breather. It's my turn."

>"I'm not running from a bloody kid," I said.

>Prudence is a virtue. Very useful, prudence. It even helps you stay alive, unlike most other virtues. I stumbled out of the ring and exchanged places with Trevain.
>>
>>3692487
>Prudence is a virtue. Very useful, prudence. It even helps you stay alive, unlike most other virtues. I stumbled out of the ring and exchanged places with Trevain.
Hopefully Trevain will bring his big shipping energy to the ring and clothesline the kid.
>>
>>3692487

>Prudence is a virtue. Very useful, prudence. It even helps you stay alive, unlike most other virtues. I stumbled out of the ring and exchanged places with Trevain.
>>
>>3692487

>Prudence is a virtue. Very useful, prudence. It even helps you stay alive, unlike most other virtues. I stumbled out of the ring and exchanged places with Trevain.

If I remember correctly he is a proper badass
>>
>>3692487
>>"I'm not running from a bloody kid," I said.
I feel suicidal
>>
>>3692548
That must explain why I feel fantastic.
>>
>>3692487
>>"I'm not running from a bloody kid," I said.
>>
>>3692496
>>3692502
>>3692524

I took the chair he had been sitting on while waiting. The chair wasn't there when we first came in. It had to be brought from upstairs, where the bar was.

That was Trevain. Cool as ice. Could make people walk all the way upstairs, grab a chair, then walk all the way down, only to let him seat on it, while he was pretending to be concussed. Didn't so much as flinch whenever Raindrops accidentally dropped something loud and crystalline.

Maybe I could get used to him being sergeant. But he would never be Sergeant. I looked blearily as the fight commenced. My vision blurred. I fell asleep. Rest is an Alexandrian's panacea.

>+2 Wounds

When I awoke, the place was empty of an audience. Even Biff the Judge wasn't here. Trevain stood up from where he was cleaning his sword. "Feeling better?" he asked.

I wriggled my toes experimentally. "No." Break. "Don't ever do that to me again."

He shrugged. "Had to know."

"Know what?"

"A girl, beating up hardened criminals. It's not natural. I thought it would be play-acting."

A newly-healed rib throbbed. "Didn't feel like play-acting to me."

"No," he agreed. He slid his perfectly clean sword into the scabbard. "She's good."

"We're not recruiting a child into the Black Company," I replied. Even if someone as twisted and badly brought up as the kid. Trevain gave me an unreadable look. I hated it when people did that. He said, "She's not getting any gig as a ring fighter. Not anymore."

"Oh?" I had an idea as to why.

"Magic," Trevain said, "is cheating. Today was her last gig. Biff doesn't want her coming here anymore. And the rumour will spread to the other showrunners. She'll be a pariah sooner or later."

"She still has her damned sword." I tried to stand up from the chair. My backbone had molded to it while I was being rejuvinated. It crackled. I moaned, in a completely asexual manner.

He held up the hilt of the tachi. The blade had been rudely broken off near the crossguard. "Ensouled, you say?"

I shrugged, sinking back on the hardback chair. "Only way to explain the structural integrity of the blade," I lied.

"Mmmhmm." He switched the topic. "The girl's out of a job."

>"Why, Sergeant Trevain, I hadn't thought you cared much for children."

>"So hand her a cookie and say toodles. Not our problem."
>>
>>3692487
>Prudence is a virtue. Very useful, prudence. It even helps you stay alive, unlike most other virtues. I stumbled out of the ring and exchanged places with Trevain.
>>
>>3692587

>"Why, Sergeant Trevain, I hadn't thought you cared much for children."
>>
>>3692587
>"Why, Sergeant Trevain, I hadn't thought you cared much for children."
>>
>>3692587


>"Why, Sergeant Trevain, I hadn't thought you cared much for children."


As long as she drops the soul, but something tells me the soul has a history to be there
>>
>>3692587
>"Why, Sergeant Trevain, I hadn't thought you cared much for children."
Thank You Trevain and your biggus dickus energy.
>>
>>3692587


>"Why, Sergeant Trevain, I hadn't thought you cared much for children."
>>
>>3692602
>>3692606
>>3692608
>>3692617
>>3692618
>"Why, Sergeant Trevain, I hadn't thought you cared much for children."

He hesitated. My eyes widened. Wonders of wonders. Either sergeancy was really fucking with his head, or-

"-my daughter," he finished. I frowned. My thoughts had been too loud to hear him properly. And he was being very quiet. "I'm sorry?" I said.

"She might be my daughter," he repeated.

I blinked. "Your daughter."

"Right age, right... nationality."

"Your daughter." So either I was well and truly dead by the hands of the wretched girl, or... "...but you're homosexual." Wasn't he?

"I know," he replied. There you go. "It was not consensual."

Ah. Arranged marriages were wonderful things, weren't they. "Does she know?" I didn't ask why it was with a woman from Wae. That seemed less crazy in comparison.

"No. No, I don't think she does."

Everyone has their critical points. Captain with her romantic-suicide-by-Magal had been hers. Trevain's was his unforeseen reunion with his daughter. The man was shaken.

"I'd thought she was dead," he said, voice hollow.

>"Well there's no problem then, is there? We're mustering out in a month. You out in the sea, her staying in Reed and doing whatever kids do to survive. You never wanted her, right?"

>"Do you want to let her know?" I asked gently.
>>
>>3692674

>"Do you want to let her know?" I asked gently

Come on Trav
>>
>"Do you want to let her know?" I asked gently.
>>
>>3692674
>"Do you want to let her know?" I asked gently.
>>
>>3692674
>"Do you want to let her know?" I asked gently.
>>
>>3692674

>"Do you want to let her know?" I asked gently.
>>
>>3692683
>>3692685
>>3692687
>>3692695
>>3692699
>"Do you want to let her know?" I asked gently

The past has a nasty way of catching up with the present. I just prayed that mine wouldn't pull the same rotten trick to me.

"No." Trevain paused. "Maybe. I don't know. I was hoping, as a father, you could-"

"Woah now, I'm not a father. Haven't been in a long while." Last I heard, my only child from my first marriage was a legate in the Empire's mountain borders against the Peninsular Kingdoms.

Trevain raised an eyebrow. A return of his calmer past self. "You have Honey."

>"Honey is a dependent," I told him. "I am not her father. Not as such. I didn't meet her mother, for one thing. There's a lot of things that comes with being a father. I'm not her father!" I wasn't ready. I would never be ready.

>I raised my finger to correct him, and found that I was at a loss for words.
>>
>>3692711
>>I raised my finger to correct him, and found that I was at a loss for words.

and there's more on the way
>>
>>3692711
>I raised my finger to correct him, and found that I was at a loss for words.
Does this mean that Trevain can be the monkey's uncle to Honey?
>>
>>3692711
>Last I heard, my only child from my first marriage was a legate in the Empire's mountain borders against the Peninsular Kingdoms.
WHAT?
>>
>>3692711

>I raised my finger to correct him, and found that I was at a loss for words.
>>
>>3692711

>I raised my finger to correct him, and found that I was at a loss for words.
>>
>>3692711
Also
>I raised my finger to correct him, and found that I was at a loss for words.
>>
>>3692725
He's probably a huge douchebag by now if he was left to the care of the censors
>>
>>3692737
She
>>
>>3692711
>I raised my finger to correct him, and found that I was at a loss for words.
>>
>>3692738
Still, a legate no less

If we are ever around we can show her her new brothers and sisters, if she is not that much of an asshole
>>
>>3692716
>>3692719
>>3692727
>>3692728
>>3692733
>>3692739
>>I raised my finger to correct him, and found that I was at a loss for words.

I sat back down. Trevain remained on the floor, not minding the dried blood on his uniform. We stayed like that, like a pair of quiet statues (the only sort of statues there are), for a while.

"I think," I said, finally breaking the heavy silence, "we both need a drink." A very stiff drink. First of many. "And I know just where we can find it."

---

The Mended Drum was a nocturnal establishment. Even criminals had to sleep so that they could keep up in their night time activities. We sat down on the two cleanest chairs in the entire bar, alone in the dusty interior. Morning sunlight didn't trickle so much as sludge through, lighting up the passively floating motes of somethings in the air. Trevain popped the cork off a Faro 1635.

"Four years old," I observed. I knew fuck-all about beer. "Good beer."

"Wine," Trevain said.

"Right. Wine. Meant to say wine." Trevain was the sort of fellow that made you feel foolish just by being with. This rare moment of vulnerability humanised him a bit. He poured some in a dirty cup. He wasn't vulnerable. He was unhinged.

He poured out another cup, and offered.

>I accepted.

>I discreetly drained the thing on the floor.
>>
>>3692762

>I discreetly drained the thing on the floor.
One of us will have to keep a cool head and now he needs more than us
>>
>>3692762

>I discreetly drained the thing on the floor.
>>
>>3692738
We need to meet her someday.
>>
>>3692772
do we even get drunk? with the golden blood curing toxins I imagine the effect on alcohol would be similar
>>
>>3692762

>I accepted.
>>
>>3692778
It's not an immediate purge
>>
>>3692762
I accepted.
>>
>>3692762
>>I discreetly drained the thing on the floor.

maybe drain half of it? if not all of it.
>>
>>3692767
>>3692772
>>3692850
>I discreetly drained the thing on the floor.

One of us had to keep a cool head. And besides, alcohol didn't agree with me. I had to drink much more than the average person to be drunk, and to stay drunk. Grapey aroma rose where the liquid had trickled to.

"Surprised they keep grape wine," I said. Grapes were harvested in the northern regions, with its sizeable Eskhatan population, but rarely this far south.

"I found the owner's private stash."

"Naughty sergeant," I admonished him. He filled my cup. I poured them away while he downed his. "So, a daughter."

"Er."

"She's got your... swordsmanship?" I wouldn't have known she was half Gaulish if he hadn't said she was. Well, there were those grey-blue eyes. I wondered if that colour was normal for the Wae.

"And her mother's hair."

"Trevain. Every Wae islander has that hair."

"She is my daughter," he insisted. "I knew it when I saw her fighting."

"Hum. So what are you going to do about it?"

"What would you do?" he asked, not looking at me. I thought of my legate daughter. The combination of Goguryeo heavy cavalry and freezing temperatures of Liaodong made being stationed there a nightmare for legionaries. Not the kind of place I liked to visit.

>"I might see her," I said slowly. "Meet her and see how she's been doing. Find out if there's anything I could do." Not that she ever needed me. She'd always had her shit together, more than her old man.

>"I would think how she might feel, having a father again all of a sudden. I would wonder if I have any right of acting like one when I'd pushed her aside before." Of course I'd been a father. That was how I knew I would be so terrible at it.
>>
>>3692861
>>"I might see her," I said slowly. "Meet her and see how she's been doing. Find out if there's anything I could do." Not that she ever needed me. She'd always had her shit together, more than her old man.
>>
>>3692861
>>"I might see her," I said slowly. "Meet her and see how she's been doing. Find out if there's anything I could do." Not that she ever needed me. She'd always had her shit together, more than her old man.
>>
>>3692861

>"I might see her," I said slowly. "Meet her and see how she's been doing. Find out if there's anything I could do." Not that she ever needed me. She'd always had her shit together, more than her old man.
>>
>>3692861
>"I would think how she might feel, having a father again all of a sudden. I would wonder if I have any right of acting like one when I'd pushed her aside before." Of course I'd been a father. That was how I knew I would be so terrible at it.

Yeah, no, don't do that.
>>
>>3692861
>"I would think how she might feel, having a father again all of a sudden. I would wonder if I have any right of acting like one when I'd pushed her aside before." Of course I'd been a father. That was how I knew I would be so terrible at it.
Especially if she's lived such a life as a criminal.
>>
>>3692861

>"I might see her," I said slowly. "Meet her and see how she's been doing. Find out if there's anything I could do." Not that she ever needed me. She'd always had her shit together, more than her old man.
Is there a chance that our main character is a grandfather and doesn't know about it?
>>
>>3692872
>>3692879
>>3692894
>>3692922
>"I might see her," I said slowly. "Meet her and see how she's been doing. Find out if there's anything I could do." Not that she ever needed me. She'd always had her shit together, more than her old man.

"So you think... I should...?"

I realised I was supposed to be talking about Trevain's rabid daughter, and not my legate one. "Oh no," I said. "I'm not sure you should bring her. I mean, we're leaving for...Wae. Awfully dangerous, the sea routes to that barbarous isles. No offence to your wife."

"Yes, that would be best," he said uneasily, or as uneasy as Trevain could look. "Drifting away like a pair of ships passing by in the night. None the wiser."

"None the wiser," I echoed.

None the wiser. No tearful reunions to deal with. And that, of course, meant no tearful separation either. I had a feeling it was also going to involve swords. It already had. Trevain was a very sword-y man. Lots of swords happened near him.

>I braced myself to say the thing he was dreading to hear. "But I think it would be worth it if you met her."

>"Another bottle, sergeant?" He had emptied his. It was against regulations to drink an entire bottle alone, but I lived and let live. I watched him drown his worries away, and was reminded of Sergeant.
>>
>>3692951

>I braced myself to say the thing he was dreading to hear. "But I think it would be worth it if you met her."
>>
>>3692951
>I braced myself to say the thing he was dreading to hear. "But I think it would be worth it if you met her."
I'm sorry Sergeant, but you need to meet your spawn.
>>
>>3692951
>>I braced myself to say the thing he was dreading to hear. "But I think it would be worth it if you met her."
>>
>>3692951
>I braced myself to say the thing he was dreading to hear. "But I think it would be worth it if you met her."
>>
>>3692951
>>I braced myself to say the thing he was dreading to hear. "But I think it would be worth it if you met her."
>>
>>3692951
>I braced myself to say the thing he was dreading to hear. "But I think it would be worth it if you met her."
He still shouldn't mention it, but it is plainly impossible to refuse a mystery box or in this case, sword.
>>
>>3692955
>>3692956
>>3692958
>>3692959
>>3692960
>>3692965
>I braced myself to say the thing he was dreading to hear. "But I think it would be worth it if you met her."

He projectile vomited out an alcohol-filled stomach's worth of nondescript content. Not strictly nondescript. It was vaguely purple.

Purplish. He slumped against the bar table thing wot has the beerspouts and whatnot. I hoped the bartender was the sort to clean other people's mess for his own good. Else his regulars would be drinking vomit-wine for days.

Sergeant Trevain waved a vague fist in the air with the air of a boy resigned to an execution, but also determined to make things difficult for the legionaries who were to drag him to killing grounds. Yes, he looked just like little One-Legged Charlie in this moment. He slapped his fist down. "Don' wanna."

By this point, I was tired of marvels.

"Oh, man up," I snapped. "You might not have wanted her, but she's family."

"Wasn't my fault," he groaned. I made a mental note to myself: Never Break Company Regulations On Alcohol. Then he spilled his beans on the whole thing. His childhood spent voyaging on a luxury cruiser with his parents. Wae pirates capturing the vessel. The cruiser fighting back, and winning. Pirates fleeing with little Trevain in custody. Some girl falling in love with him and the forced wedding. It was near a novel on its own.

Arranged marriages. Aren't they a joy.

"Are you sure you don't want to tell her? This could be the last chance." Fate must have been conspiring, I thought. What were the chances of the Captain and the interim-Lieutenant choosing to come here instead of any of the other two theatres of war we could have picked?

In fact, Fate had not conspired to do any such thing. Fate had no plans, as such. Fate simply did what Fate did at the moment of time and place Fate did what Fate does. Which is lay out the Story of Life.

Another thought struck me. Had Sergeant something like this as well? An unresolved question mark in his past that would never see a cathartic climax?

"Every life saved is a story continuing to be written." Old Scrivener proverb. I wish I hadn't thought that last thought. It made me feel uncomfortable. As if there was someone, somewhere, waiting for Sergeant to come back home.

"I am surrounded by broken people," I observed in a moment of clarity. Of course. You would have to be nuts to join a mercenary company that either killed or were killed.

"You do it," Trevain slurred. "In my place. Send her a message. Tell her, tell her... I'm sorry?"

>"You're kidding, right? She almost killed me."

>"Aurelius' Delivery Service, coming right up."
>>
>>3692981
>>"You're kidding, right? She almost killed me."

you'll have to do this one trav
>>
>>3692981
>>"Aurelius' Delivery Service, coming right up."
We are totally recruiting her
>>
>>3692981

>"Aurelius' Delivery Service, coming right up."
>>
>>3692981
>"You're kidding, right? She almost killed me."
We're dragging your ass to her and that's final!
>>
Just to clarify the options
1 is we get him to do it and 2 is we do it ourselves?
>>
>>3692981
>"You're kidding, right? She almost killed me."
>>
>>3693001
Yes
>>
>>3692981

>"You're kidding, right? She almost killed me."

We go along for moral support, we may have become Trevain's Trevain
>>
>>3692989
>>3692997
>>3693004
>>3693017
>"You're kidding, right? She almost killed me."

"You're kidding, right?" I barked out a laughter. "She almost killed me. Come on, up you go, there's a good sergeant." In my head, I wanted to shout for Sergeant. Now there was a Sergeant. He hadn't gone to pieces. He hadn't seen his long-estranged daughter killing other men for money in the middle of a highly illegitimate sporting operation, either. But what was important was that Sergeant had never gone to pieces.

And that was something.

I half-dragged, half-supported Trevain ("He'll foot the bill for my laundry today," I muttered darkly) to the exit of the Drumming Mend or whatever it was. Outside the dust-wiped windows, the morning-empty streets of Disreputable Alley #12 was barren. Not a single grifters or harlots in sight. The power of a clear morning. I opened the door and bumped into something.

It was Kid. "Ah shite," I swore, then dropped Trevain. "Right, how much did you hear?"

Her face was as handsomely bland as her father's. "Everything." She really was her father's daughter, I reflected. "Everything. Hmm. Well. Err." I fumbled for words.

"Umm?" she offered. I gratefully accepted a new expansion of my vocabulary for times I could not elucidate my thoughts. "Umm," I said. I peeked out to the street. It really was empty. The only reason I'd not seen the girl was because she was right at the door, which was not glass.

I sighed. Trevain snored. "Why don't you come in, kid."

"Can I have a bottle as well?" she asked.

"No."

"But-"

"No," I repeated firmly. Underage drinking! I wasn't going to have it.

She kicked Trevain, who moaned in alcohol-blurred pain on the floor. "Killjoy."

>"Prick," I growled.

>"He probably deserves that." I rubbed the exhaustion out of my eyes. "But don't do it again."
>>
>>3693057
>Ignore that response and let her in the door
>>
>>3693057

>"He probably deserves that." I rubbed the exhaustion out of my eyes. "But don't do it again."
>>
>>3693066
To elaborate why I typed this in, is because this ultimately should not be us taking her bait, and because that kick was out of a emotional response to the mondofuckton of a revelation that she's going to get for a long while.
>>
>>3693057

>"He probably deserves that." I rubbed the exhaustion out of my eyes. "But don't do it again."
>>
>>3693057
>"He probably deserves that." I rubbed the exhaustion out of my eyes. "But don't do it again."
>>
>>3693072
>>3693136
>>3693142
>"He probably deserves that." I rubbed the exhaustion out of my eyes. "But don't do it again."


People changed. Just ask me. Even if you didn't, you will hear me say it. People changed. Captain did some kind of an interpretive dance to tell me to screw up her wedding-slash-suicide. Sister turned out to be a decent guy. Trevain fucked a woman and spawned a kid. He also broke down from his immaculate mask of immaculate nonconceptuality. Dumpling fell in love with me. Hood fell in love with me. I think.

I was going to be a father.

So I held the faintest of hopes (the very faintest) that Kid would change as well. She sat opposite to me on one of the bar tables, the round sort that never really totally supported your food and drinks. Her face was steel. She was carrying the blade portion of her sword with her bare hands - she called it a touchy or something - and it was making her hand bleed. I frowned. Terribly unhygienic, sword blades. Especially if they haven't been cleaned. I could still see my blood on them.

"So," I said.

Girls her age tend to be extremely anti-authoritarian. I scratched my head. I hazarded a guess to what people are supposed to say for this kind of situations.

"I am sorry about your parental situation-"

"How'd you live?" she interrupted me. "I saw you die. On that chair."

I leaned back. "I'm cursed."

"Sounds like an amazing curse." She kicked Trevain's foot under the table. "I'd want a curse."

"You would, too," I said bitterly, and bit back more words. Patience, Aurelius. She was an orphan until now. I shot a glare at Trevain, who was either deep in an inebriated sleep, or very good at pretending to be.

>"You want something to eat?" I asked. You try living for a couple centuries and not learn to cook. It was a perfectly valid occupation for men. No, I wasn't at all defensive about it. Shush.

>I thought I should start off with some introduction. "So the thing about your father is, he's a mercenary. That's like a soldier, except without any of the daddy issues."
>>
>>3693187
>>"You want something to eat?" I asked. You try living for a couple centuries and not learn to cook. It was a perfectly valid occupation for men. No, I wasn't at all defensive about it. Shush.
>>
>>3693187

>"You want something to eat?" I asked. You try living for a couple centuries and not learn to cook. It was a perfectly valid occupation for men. No, I wasn't at all defensive about it. Shush.
>>
>>3693187

>I thought I should start off with some introduction. "So the thing about your father is, he's a mercenary. That's like a soldier, except without any of the daddy issues."
>>
>>3693187

>"You want something to eat?" I asked. You try living for a couple centuries and not learn to cook. It was a perfectly valid occupation for men. No, I wasn't at all defensive about it. Shush.
>>
>>3693187
>>"You want something to eat?" I asked. You try living for a couple centuries and not learn to cook. It was a perfectly valid occupation for men. No, I wasn't at all defensive about it. Shush.
>>
>>3693193
>>3693205
>>3693253
>>3693270
>>"You want something to eat?" I asked. You try living for a couple centuries and not learn to cook. It was a perfectly valid occupation for men. No, I wasn't at all defensive about it. Shush.

I just scrounged up some hard bread and even harder yak yoghurt in a pail labeled "yakurt". The owner had some very strange selections. She gobbled them up with relish. I looked on in astonishment as she shoved in enough hardbread for three Companymen after a hard march, complemented by liberal dunking of "yakurt". The latter was more of an achievement. That thing was dry as cement, it ought to be called cheese.

"Don't get to eat much?" I asked. She shook her head. "But your armour is quality." She looked at me like I was an idiot. "Save life," she managed between mouthfuls. The available foodstuffs on her plate was rapidly thinning. Sensible girl. And ravenous.

Grabbing a grubby apron that hadn't seen a laundry since the Emperor was born, I started to rummage for ingredients. Peppercorn from India. Cold belly cuts from an emanciated pig. Some rice noodles that were so bunched up they were more like a blob. And some cheese of indeterminate origin. What the hell was the owner buying? He had some very strange selections. Especially the peppercorn. That thing was expensive. Then again, if anywhere could stock that thing, it was here in Reed, one of the hundreds of port cities of the Empire.

I chopped the belly cuts (with my gladius - the cleaver here was in dreadful condition) and slid them into the large pan, the only thing in the entire kitchen (save the packaged ingredients) that had heard of the word "cleanliness", by virtue of being in perpetual use.

The pork fried diligently as I boiled the noodle, taking care to separate the nood from the les. The noodle boiled bobblingly as I started smashing the peppercorns. That didn't go as well. I tried grinding them with the pommel of my sword. That went a little better. I tossed in some eggs sans their shells into a bowl - after a judicious wiping - and mixed the cheese and peppercorn fragments and eggs together.

Then I dumped the noodle into the pan of fried pork and pork oil, followed by the admixture. A pleasant aroma wafted up despite the kitchen's frightful condition.

It's the pepper, I thought. Should buy some of those for personal use before we leave this place. I loaded up the resulting culinary product onto the plate.

Kid's eyes were transfixed to what I held aloof on my hand. "Hot food," she said. "For me?"

I nodded, placing down the plate of whatever-it-is. She ate. I watched. The sun rose to mid-morning.

>"What's your name?"

>"Was it tasty?"
>>
>>3693293
>>"What's your name?"
>>
>>3693293
>>"What's your name?"
>>
>>3693293

>"What's your name?"
>>
>>3693293
"What's your name?" And no this is for me and your dady
>>
>>3693293

>"What's your name?"
>>
>>3693293
>"What's your name?"
>>
>>3693302
>>3693304
>>3693324
>>3693327
>>3693339
>>3693341
She spoke.

"What?" I hadn't quite caught it. She said it again. "Yew...tree?"

"Mulberry tree, actually," Kuwa said.

"Right on. Never did understand Sinaean naming conventions." Wae islanders used Sinaean. Sort of. It was kind of loopy and crooked and demented.

She looked pointedly. "Your name means gold."

Fair enough. "So, Mulberry Tree-"

"Kuwa is fine. I don't call you Gold every time."

"You did that one time."

"One time."

"So, Kuwa." I should know better than to haggle words with a teenager. "You have questions."

She shrugged. "Not really." I was puzzled. "Not even one?"

"Nope. I knew my parents never wanted me. Doesn't change much now, does it?"

"Trevain - that is, your father, he wanted me to tell you that he was sorry."

She snorted. "That did me a fat lot of good when I was in the streets. And he's not going to take me in, neither. What was it that he said? Oh yeah. "Wasn't my fault.""

I winced.

>"Well, he's in a delicate situation. We're mercenaries, you see, dangerous work. It's not exactly somewhere you can bring your daughters into. We're sailing all the way to Wae!" The wordplay is not lost upon me.

>"He was drunk." Wait, that made it worse. It meant he was honest. "He was not in his right mind." Was Trevain ever in his right mind? I didn't know. We didn't really talk until today. "Okay, what he said was bad. And he is a terrible dad."
>>
Welcome to Fatherhood Quest.
>>
>>3693351
>"Well, he's in a delicate situation. We're mercenaries, you see, dangerous work. It's not exactly somewhere you can bring your daughters into. We're sailing all the way to Wae!" The wordplay is not lost upon me.
If we trick her into wanting to work for the Black Company, then we get a free dudette.
No I'm totally not doing this from the mindset of a U.S. Military Recruiter.
>>
>>3693351
>>"Well, he's in a delicate situation. We're mercenaries, you see, dangerous work. It's not exactly somewhere you can bring your daughters into. We're sailing all the way to Wae!" The wordplay is not lost upon me.
>>
>>3693351
>>"Well, he's in a delicate situation. We're mercenaries, you see, dangerous work. It's not exactly somewhere you can bring your daughters into. We're sailing all the way to Wae!" The wordplay is not lost upon me.
>>
>>3693351

>"Well, he's in a delicate situation. We're mercenaries, you see, dangerous work. It's not exactly somewhere you can bring your daughters into. We're sailing all the way to Wae!" The wordplay is not lost upon me.
>>
>>3693355
I'm loving it.
>>
>>3693351

>"Well, he's in a delicate situation. We're mercenaries, you see, dangerous work. It's not exactly somewhere you can bring your daughters into. We're sailing all the way to Wae!" The wordplay is not lost upon me.
>>
>>3693351
>>"Well, he's in a delicate situation. We're mercenaries, you see, dangerous work. It's not exactly somewhere you can bring your daughters into. We're sailing all the way to Wae!" The wordplay is not lost upon me.
>>
>>3693359
>>3693361
>>3693369
>>3693441
>>3693555
>>3693567
>"Well, he's in a delicate situation. We're mercenaries, you see, dangerous work. It's not exactly somewhere you can bring your daughters into. We're sailing all the way to Wae!" The wordplay is not lost upon me.

Her eyes widened. "You're going to Wae?"

"Sure as sure." Or die trying. Normally, the Black Company didn't accept such desperate contracts. We liked being in the winning side, if not of world history, of our local history. That is why we were so often at odds against the Rebel. They liked to imagine they could change the status quo.

Wae was a gamble. Decent pay, a chance to recruit without worrying about financial solvency. But also very, very dangerous. Every Scrivener knew about the first two times some Emperor-wannabe launched a flotilla of soldiers toward that cursed archipelago. There was a very good reason the Capital was outsourcing the thing to zealous third party contractors, namely, the Sima Clan. Not a single legionary blood was going to be wasted in this "War of Righteousness". But third time was the charm, right?

She didn't even think for a second. "I'm coming with."

"Absolutely not."

"I can fight. Better than you."

"Like a street rat." Anyone could fight. Black Company required sold- warriors who could follow orders. I told her so. She scrunched up her face with concentration. "I... can follow orders," she said grudgingly.

I let my skepticism show on my face.

"No one ever goes to Wae, except Wae merchantmen," she said. "And they don't take no halfbloods. Says I would anger the wind gods or something stupid like that. They hate me more than they hate heretics. Abomination, they calls me. Affront against nature and gods. But I want to see where I came from."

I sat there, unmoved.

"Your food was delicious."

"You drive a very hard bargain. But Trevain is the sergeant, not me. I can't recruit anyone."

"Oh." Her face fell. "I thought you was his boss."
>>
>>3694687

Goodness gracious, whatever could have given her that idea? "I'm sure you have feelings toward your father-"

She kicked him under the table. There was a definite, non-sleepy "Ow,".

"-but whatever it is, it's something that cannot be untangled in a single day. Especially if you kick him or try to kill him every time you two begin to converse."

She harrumphed. It was a very good one, for her age. "'lright," she muttered. "Won't happen again."

"There's a dear. Wake up, Trevain."

"Good heavens, dear fellow, is it already morning?" He said with an unconvincing yawn. "And what's this? A new recruit?"

Mulberry and I glared at him. She gave me a desperately questioning look. "Fine," I relented. "One more kick. After that," I added as Trevain gingerly rubbed his toe, "we are going to have to talk about proper sword blade handling. And treating your hands."

---

Unlike some Companymen, I didn't spend all my earnings on firewaters and gambling dens. Company pay was decent, if a little reduced considering the circumstances. Captain needed her war chest for outfitting new recruits. She was adamant that no expenses be subtracted from that area. It made for a higher survival - and thus retention - rate of brothers in black.

My thriftiness meant that I was a Man of Means. And I was in a major port city. It was time to turn these useless silver and brass into something more tangible. As a wise man once said: [I]"Treat thyself."[/i]

After dumping father and daughter off the platoon's billet (and giving her a stern talking-to on why not to handle naked blades with bare hands while bandaging her palms), I grabbed my earthly possessions of a portable sort and made my way to...

Current time: Late Morning
Current resources: one gold, fifty six silvers, two hundred eighty four brass


>Cheery Ma's Bladed Weapons Emporium

>Teas'n'Spices'n'Herbs

>Childcare Hardware

>Gloomy Teng's Armour Emporium

>Happy Lucky Aupsicious Golden Poodle Old-Song Style Restaurant-Pub
[With choice of company]
>>
>>3694688
>>Gloomy Teng's Armour Emporium
>>
>>3694688

>Childcare Hardware
>>
>>3694688

>Happy Lucky Aupsicious Golden Poodle Old-Song Style Restaurant-Pub.
With Theophilos specifically and anyone else's that wants to come.
>>
>>3694688
>>Childcare Hardware
>>
>>3694688

>Childcare Hardware

Fatherhood quest: taking responsability and not pulling a Trevian
>>
>>3694688
>Childcare Hardware
We literally have kids on the way.
>>
>>3694688
>Gloomy Teng's Armour Emporium
>>3694972
Would be a good thing to stay alive to raise them
>>
>>3694688
>>Childcare Hardware
what kind of hardware?
>>
>>3694841
>>3694897
>>3694912
>>3694972
>>3695012
>Childcare Hardware

Shamaness had taken the other two for baby item shopping before. There was an entire pile of blankets and jackets and adorably little socks and tons of wipes. We were going to need those more than the clothes. Babies are little defecating machines.

I knew I could leave the more mundane parts of childcare item to my wives. They had a better idea of things they would need, anyway. But toys? That was the father's duty.

>Wooden weapons - twelve brass each
Assorted imitations of swords, shields, and a bow. Did I really want my children to play with weapons from infancy?

>Silk lucky charm (Pregnancy) - thirty brass each
Pfft. Luck isn't real.

>A set of metal legionary figurines - sixty one silvers
Overpriced, and didn't come with the paints. The legate was erroneously waving a warhammer.

>A bucket of metal building blocks - Twenty four silvers
Ingenious little things, they fit right on with each other. Apparently it came all the way from the Danemarches.

>Soft fabric animals - three brass each
They were garish pantomimes of lions and tigers and sheep. Only a child could love them.

>Honeyed chestnuts - three brass per pouchful
Honey loved these. I doubted they would last until the babies were born, though.

>Land Ownership: The Boardgame - fifty silvers
Dice and miniatures included.

>Handcarved icons of the Emperor - fourteen brass each
It was a startlingly close likeness. They even got the lack of whiskers right, unlike most Sinaean depictions. No wonder it remained unsold.

>Black Company ceramic action figurines - fifty brass each
Taking advantage of our presence here, no doubt. Hey, they had Captain! And Lieutenant! ...and Halstat.
>>
>>3695039
>Honeyed chestnuts - three brass per pouchful
>Soft fabric animals - three brass each x6
>Wooden weapons - twelve brass each x3
sword, shield, and crossbow
just like daddy
I know it's a waste of money
>A set of metal legionary figurines - sixty one silvers
>>
>>3695039
>>A bucket of metal building blocks - Twenty four silvers
I want our children to be builders when they grow up.
>Wooden weapons x3
>Handcarved icons of the Emperor - x2
>Honeyed chestnuts - x1
>>
>>3695039


>Wooden weapons - twelve brass each
A bow, a staff and a shortsword


>Silk lucky charm (Pregnancy) - thirty brass each
Pff this isn't real, yeah its bullshit......give me 3 please

>A bucket of metal building blocks - Twenty four silvers


>Soft fabric animals - three brass each
A lion an elephant and a horse


>Honeyed chestnuts - three brass per pouchful
For honey


Lotsa toys!
>>
>>3695051
This

>>3695049
Lets not buy emperor or legion things, Hood might freak out if her kid plays with those things
>>
>>3695054
"Mom, I want to be a legionary when I grow up, just like Legate Sicarius!"

"AURELIUS!"
>>
>>3695051
Supporting
>>
>>3695039
>>Wooden weapons - twelve brass each x3
>Silk lucky charm (Pregnancy) - thirty brass each x3
>A bucket of metal building blocks - Twenty four silvers
>Soft fabric animals - three brass each x6
>Honeyed chestnuts - three brass per pouchful
147 brass and 24 silver

so we'll have some money for more equips and a nice family dinner before setting sail
>>
>Wooden Weapons
Bow, Staff, Shortsword - 36 brass
>Silk Lucky Charm (Pregnancy) 3x
90 brass
>A bucket of metal building blocks
24 silvers
>Soft fabric animals
Lion, elephant, horse - 9 brass
>Honeyed Chestnuts
3 brass
Total: 138 brass, 24 silver

Current time: Early Noon
Current resources: one gold, fourty two silvers, one hundred fourty six brass

1 gold = 25 silver = 100 brass, prone to local fluctuation

While waiting for the clerk to wrap them up, I took one last sweeping look at the store. Toys. I'd never had to shop for toys. Plenty of them were just handed to me in the Capital, first tested for poison (even Alexandrians were weak in infancy) and made sure their edges had been dulled. There was no fun in that kind of toys, I reflected. I hoped my childhood in the Capital hadn't scourged my sense of judgement on what children might like.

My eyes cruised over the rabbit dolls, lept over the Adult Section shelves - can't have Childcare without making children, a placard said before I hastily looked away - and landed right on to Trevain, who was staring at me with undisguised blandness.

"You!" I shouted.

"You," he sort of drawled.

"What are you doing here?" we said at the same time. He was carrying a big stuffed hippopotamus. "Sir," I added. Corporals didn't need sirring. Sergeants did.

"I thought I'd buy a present," Trevain said. The woolbound hippo's face was frozen in a silent scream.

"Mulberry?" I asked. He nodded.

>"She'll love it," I assured him.

>"You know she is like, fourteen, right?"
>>
>>3695079
>>"She'll love it," I assured him.
>>
>>3695079
>"She'll love it," I assured him.
>Be a little jealous of the really well done hippo
>>
>>3695079
>>"She'll love it," I assured him.
>>
>>3695079

>"She'll love it," I assured him.

>>3695084
If she doesn't like we can requisition it
>>
>>3695090
I like to think that Aurelius likes hippos.
>>
>>3695082
>>3695084
>>3695088
>>3695090
>>"She'll love it," I assured him.

It was an assurance of one father to another. "Why, I've always wanted a purple hippo when I was a child. It has such character." It was a ghastly tube with four stubby feet. I am sure the censores would have proscribed such an item from entering the Capital, lest it traumatise the babies.

Trevain smiled slightly. "It's a dog."

"Dogs, hippos, same thing when you think about it. Four legged critters of the earth." I stuffed the presents into my knapsack. "How's it going with her? Mulberry?"

He simply said, "Terrifying." His smile disappeared. "She is refusing to talk to me."

I could have said a dozen things. Slow and steady wins the race. The Capital wasn't built in a day. Instead, I said, "Tough. Good luck," and sped away. I'd had plans, and those plans involved me and my family. Not babysitting Mulberries and Trevains. I peeked behind me when I was a good long way from the children's shop and saw no familiar face.

Free once more.

---

>Cheery Ma's Bladed Weapons Emporium

>Teas'n'Spices'n'Herbs

>Gloomy Teng's Armour Emporium

>Happy Lucky Aupsicious Golden Poodle Old-Song Style Restaurant-Pub
>>
>>3695117
>>Cheery Ma's Bladed Weapons Emporium


what time is it? will we have time for a family dinner later?
>>
>>3695117
>>Gloomy Teng's Armour Emporium
>>
>>3695123
Early Noon
>>
>>3695117
>>Gloomy Teng's Armour Emporium
>>
>>3695117

>Gloomy Teng's Armour Emporium
>>
>>3695124
>>3695127
>>3695128
>Gloomy Teng's Armour Emporium

"Have a look," the owner said morosely. "Or don't. Plenty of other customers around. Them Black Company likes to spend their money around."

Maybe I could get something for repeat patronage, as a member of the Company. "Well, I'm actually also-"

"And raise the prices of everything else, oh yes. Children's toys used to be paid for by the brass, and what do we have now? Silvers! Toys, costing silvers! Gentrification, that is. Hunh." He stared gloomily at his full till. "I wish I'd such disposeable income."

"That's great," I said. "So I was wondering what kind of-"

"Two newborns, that's how many my daughter's made. So I makes her some toys with string and wheat. Wholesome stuff, like my own grandmother used to make. But is she happy? Oh no. She wants to go to Childcare Hardware. Gots eyes on the fancy ceramics on the Black Company, she has. Have you any children, sir?"

"As a matter of fact-"

"Mind that you grow them strict," he waggled a finger. "Every generation, it gets worse. Why, my grandfather used to play with rocks. Rocks! Nature's own dolls and miniature soldiers, they are. Didn't have to pay for them, neither. It's near luncheon, isn't it, sir?"

I nodded. He looked at me under heavy-lidded eyes. I ventured to begin a sentence. "Yes-"

"Then I'd recommend you take your pick and go on along. I've got to eat too. At least, that's what my wife says, though she's bound to get me a dish of chicken with more gristle than flesh. Never should have gotten married, sir. 'Tis a curse, an affliction of the male species. Any armour here is more or less fine, though its wearers will die sooner or later. Sooner than later. People who tend to need armour also tend to die earlier. Isn't it funny?" He paused.

>I gamely tried to make conversation. "That IS fun-"

>I stayed silent.
>>
>>3695146
>>I gamely tried to make conversation. "That IS fun-"
>>
>>3695146

>I stayed silent.
>>
>>3695146
>I stayed silent.
>>
>>3695146

>I stayed silent

Don't want to be here all afternon lol
>>
>>3695178
>>3695180
>>3695190
>I stayed silent

He steepled his fingers, hard and strong with years of blacksmithing work. He blinked.

>I stared back.

>I coughed.

>I shuffled my feet some.
>>
>>3695146
>>I stayed silent.
>>
>>3695195
>>I stared back.
>>
>>3695195

>I coughed
>>
>>3695195
>I stared back.
>I coughed.
I want armor now.
>>
>>3695195

>I coughed.
>>
>>3695195
>I stared back.
>>
>>3695195
>>I stared back.
>>I coughed.

Cough while staring into his SOUL.
>>
>>3695197
>>3695202
>>3695203
>>3695204
>>3695206
>>3695211
>>3695306
>I coughed. And then I stared back.

He was a master starer, this one. You wouldn't know from the half-sleepy, half-reproachful look he was going for. The armourer's wife came and went, delivering a tray of honey-glazed roasted chicken. There was hardly any gristle on it. She came back once more to place a plate of the same in front of me. We ate.

Trevain was the first to speak. "Can we-"

"Statistics," Teng interrupted with gusto, continuing a line of conversation I'd long forgotten. "That's what it is."

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Ah, that's the question isn't it, sir? The mystery of life-"

"Not you. Sergeant Trevain, sir?"

He did a bit of hopping-on-one-foot-then-the-other, and then said, "Just shopping for some armour, Scrivener." Hmmm. But the Mystery of the Stalking Trevain could wait. I turned to the armourer. "Armour. Me. Want."

---

Iron-studded Brigandine - 2 silvers, 15 brass
>(+6DC) (+6AV) (+1 AV roll)
A quality work, this brigandine is a fine example of Master Teng's armourcraft. It is popular among the criminal element of the city for being a good value for your money.

Eskhatan Mail - 10 silvers
>(+0DC) (+12AV) (+1 AV roll)
Mass produced during the heydays of the island of Alexandria Eskhata, this mail is commonly used by guardsmen and adventurers alike for their durability as well as ease of maintenance.

>Imperial Centurion Armour - 22 silvers, 20 brass
>(+10DC) (+10AV) (+2 AV rolls)
Formed of banded ring-plates instead of the conventional lorica hamata, this segmentata armour is a fearful - and effective - symbol of the Empire's legions. The Legions do not take kindly to those outside their ranks dressed in their panoply, but often make exceptions to long-standing contractors, like the Black Company.

>Parthian Plate - 2 golds, 10 silvers, 15 brass
>(+15DC) (+40AV) (+3 AV rolls)
The Emperor is said to have favoured his Companion Cavalry with the privilege of wearing full-plated armour of urukku steel, not least of which was the venerable Ariamnes, who led the entirety of the True Imperial legions far west so many years ago. How Teng managed to get his hands on such a thing, you wouldn't like to imagine. The artificially low price suggests an illegitimate and possibly bloody background.
>>
so, our current armor is +5dc and +10 av

can we wear any of those combined with the one with have or they are replacements?

what about abetter helmet?
>>
>>3695389
Replacements
Helms! Now there's an idea, hold on a minute. This whole balancing numbers business is foul. Never liked nummins, no sir.
>>
>>3695391
Let us beee op
>>
>>3695384
I'll already throw my vote to
>Imperial Centurion Armour - 22 silvers, 20 brass
it's expensive as fuck but +5 dc is nice


also, what the fuck, why is Trevain following us? making a quick "how to be a father course?"
>>
How much money do we have???
>>
>>3695447
One gold 28 silver and some brass change
>>
>>3695455
Darn no partian plate
>>
>>3695384
Leather coif - 15 brass
>(+0DC) (+3AV)
The humble leather coif. Protects from some head wounds.

Iron helm - 4 silver, 2 brass
>(+0DC) (+5AV)
A common gear among guardsmen of sleepy towns and gang enforcers. They do a much better job in protecting the head, though wearing them for long makes for an aching neck.

Imperial Galea - 12 silver, 5 brass
>(+2DC) (+10AV)
This military surplus galea has seen a lot of ding and battering. Mostly from transportation, not use. A

Cavalryman's Helm - 1 gold
>(+6DC) (+10AV)
Crafted elaborately out of iron, silver, and gold, this personalised helm was intended for both active combat and ceremonial parades, with the face of the original owner forming a metal mask. The frown and sneer of cold command upon its visage tell that the armorwright well read those passions of its previous owner.

Legionary Scutum - 1 silver, 10 brass
>(+7DC) (+10AV)
These legionary tower shields are made of layers of wood glued together, with metal embossments in the middle and around the ridges for durability. Nevertheless, these are not intended to see long-term use, as the wood can break during use.

Varangian roundshield - 23 brass
>(+7DC) (+5AV)
Small and affordable, this roundshield sacrifices the durability of bucklers of similar size to make for a lighter equipment, allowing for ease of improvised use as an offensive punching weapon. Like all mostly-wooden shields, these are not intended to see prolonged use.

Clipeus - 1 gold, 12 silvers
>(+10DC) (+15AV)
A large round iron shield entirely of metal. This heavy disc of a shield is difficult to use for those without extraordinary strength. It is also quite expensive, due to the amount of metal used.
>>
Current time: Early Noon
Current resources: one gold, fourty two silvers, one hundred fourty six brass
>>
>>3695461
Actually you can afford it, given that

1 gold = 25 silvers = 100 brass
>>
>>3695464
>>3695467
Guys we turn 25 silver into 1 gold and buy the partian plate adding 10 more silver

That will leave us with
7 silver and 146 brass for the helm

And we can turn 100 of that brass into 25 silver to end up with

32 silver and 46 brass

I say we turn 25 more into one 1 and get the cavalry helmet

Leaving us with

7 silver and 46 brass

We add a Varangian roundshield to replace the buckeler if we ever go against archers and that leaves us with

7 silver and 23 brass

Way better armored and with some nice bonuses to our dc
>>
>>3695480
Sure now we are sexy and well equiped support
>>
>>3695489
If our wives ask why we became a mountain of metal and armor we explain

"I can't afford to die now can I?"
>>
>>3695464
>Parthian Plate - 2 golds, 10 silvers, 15 brass
>Cavalryman's Helm - 1 gold
>>
File: Cavalry Helm.jpg (65 KB, 375x569)
65 KB
65 KB JPG
>>3695480
>Parthian Plate (+15DC) (+40AV) (+3 AV rolls)
>Cavalryman's Helm (+6DC) (+10AV)
>Varangian Roundshield (+7DC) (+5AV)
>Remainder: 7 silvers, 8 brass

"Cutting me own throat with these prices, sir," Gloomy Teng said emphatically. "Really, you won't get this sort of deals anywhere else." I had a feeling he was glad to be rid of the Parthian plate. Much too conspicuous an item. It was the kind of hot merchandise that might get censores sniffing about. Of course, the Imperial censors didn't care much about what the Parthians were up to, given that the lot of them had uprooted and gone west with their leader, Ariamnes. Their interest lay firmly in Alexandrians. They were hardly going to bother chasing up Parthian armour.

Still, myths remained. So did fear of Imperial Intelligence. I did not doubt that he had lowered the price significantly. The thing was almost priceless.

Teng didn't quibble about me paying with gold. Those things were difficult to liquidate, but he was an armoursmith. He dealt with large amount of currency by the week. He also didn't quibble the exchange rate, even though that was certain to make him some losses.

Good man, if a little too interrupt-happy. His head bobbed solemnly as I finalised the payment. It had cost me damn near everything I had. "Stop by next time, sir," he said morosely. "We're sure to have new shipments - if we're still open by then, that is."

"I don't think any of those would fit Honey," Trevain said as we exited the shop. He hadn't bought anything.

"It's not for Honey. It's for me."

"Oh." We walked in silence for a minute. "I couldn't help but notice that you've spent the lion's share of your wage, Scrivener Aurelius."

"Yes sir," I said, walking slightly faster.

He quickened. "A significant sum. More than three aurei, I believe."

"Yes sir." I sort of hopped along. He was keeping up pace.

"Eighteen denarii and three sesterces, wasn't it? Your monthly wage. Nine gold a year. A significant dent in your pocket."

"I've always thought it prudent to invest in lengthening one's own lifespan, sir." By now, I was jogging. It was difficult with my new acquisitions jostling about in my knapsack. It had been a big knapsack. Now it was a massive one.

Trevain, being empty handed save for that monster of a hippo- dog, was untroubled by the ever increasing pace. "I was thinking - I was thinking that maybe you could help with the..." Trevain didn't seem to be able to find the words.

"She's your daughter, sir," I said.

"There would be money in it for you."
>>
>>3695742

>"Ah, that changes things." The wages for the common trooper was very good, considering. But there was no such thing as too much money, especially with children on the way.

>"You can't bribe your way into her heart, you know," I said gently. "It's hard, but you've got to try to spend more time with her."
>>
>>3695742
>"You can't bribe your way into her heart, you know," I said gently. "It's hard, but you've got to try to spend more time with her."

I'm late. They bought heaviest piece of armor. "Dangerous Sea Crossing" was in our job description... WTF?!
>>
>>3695750

>"Ah, that changes things." The wages for the common trooper was very good, considering. But there was no such thing as too much money, especially with children on the way.

He's gonna pay for a fancy family dinner for Aurelius, Hood, Hobey, Dumpling and Shamaness, our first time out as big family, that's what I'd like
>>
>>3695767
They were intended to be used once we arrive there but if they sink with the ship we'll just have to deal with it
>>
>>3695750

>"You can't bribe your way into her heart, you know," I said gently. "It's hard, but you've got to try to spend more time with her."
>>
>>3695750

>"Ah, that changes things." The wages for the common trooper was very good, considering. But there was no such thing as too much money, especially with children on the way.
>>
>>3695750
>"Ah, that changes things." The wages for the common trooper was very good, considering. But there was no such thing as too much money, especially with children on the way

>>3695767
I know right and our mc has said he likes lighter amour .
Bet our new things mskes everyone think we are the boss
>>
>>3695750
>>"Ah, that changes things." The wages for the common trooper was very good, considering. But there was no such thing as too much money, especially with children on the way.
>>
>>3695750

>"You can't bribe your way into her heart, you know," I said gently. "It's hard, but you've got to try to spend more time with her."

Classic dad mistake
>>
>>3695775
>>3695813
>>3696021
>>3696197
>"Ah, that changes things." The wages for the common trooper was very good, considering. But there was no such thing as too much money, especially with children on the way.

I was rather worried I might not be able to afford anything else after that shopping spree. The gods must be smiling upon me. Which meant it was a trap. Gods never smiled without a reason. "What, exactly, are you paying me for?"

"Talk with her. Eat a nice family dinner with everyone else. Treat her like you do Honey."

"She isn't Honey." She was the furthest thing from Honey. Nearly killed me, for one thing.

"You know what I mean." He didn't look like he knew what he meant. "Be a father to her."

"...I've got to say, I've done a lot of odd jobs now and then but this is the strangest request I've had by far." And I've done some very disagreeable jobs. It was hard to pretend to be a random vagrant with my eyes, which reduced my hiring prospects. It was one of the many reasons I'd decided to join the Black Company, instead of being a door opener for some criminal lowlife.

"Two silvers a month."

"You can't just foist off your child like a pet."

"Five."

"Money isn't the solution to everything."

"Neither is a sword, as I've come to find out. And I've spent a long time with mine. To the point that I know little else. Ten."

"See sense, Trevain. She's your daughter. Your blood! You've got to reach out to her."

"She won't talk to me, not as she is. Fifteen."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" That is the question, isn't it? Always, we are propelled toward circumstances by Time and Fate, often to make choices despite our hearts. The decisions we made yesterday make the us of today. And I wanted to make sure that Trevain wouldn't regret this when the Tomorrow came. Or at the very least, minimise it.

He nodded. "Until I'm ready to talk to her. I don't even know where her mother is. Please. An aureus."

"That's more than my monthly wage."

"I know. Need the money with all those children, don't you?"

"Why not just order me to do it?" I said helplessly. "You're the sergeant."

He looked at me pointedly, reminding me of a certain girl who wiped the floor with me with little but a shitty sand-iron sword. Ensouled, but a shitty sword nevertheless. "I think I know enough about how humans work, Trooper Aurelius. This needs more finesse than brute ordering."

And yet not enough, I thought grimly, to deal with a long estranged daughter.

"One gold and ten silvers," he said. Now that was really stretching his own pay, even if he was an officer with officer's pay. It would take serious economising to live while giving away that much.

>"One gold," I accepted. "No more than that. And weekly visitation."

>"Deal." Hey, he upped the ante himself.
>>
>>3695767
You can swap out between Black Company standard-issue chainmail and the plate
>>
>>3697839

>"One gold," I accepted. "No more than that. And weekly visitation."
But we keep the gold for when they become close
>>
>>3697839

>"One gold," I accepted. "No more than that. And weekly visitation."
>>
>>3697839
>>"One gold," I accepted. "No more than that. And weekly visitation."
>>
>>3697839

>"One gold," I accepted. "No more than that. And weekly visitation."
>>
>>3697865
>>3697955
>>3697971
>"One gold," I accepted. "No more than that. And weekly visitation."

"Very good of you," he said, pressing a shining golden coin into my hand. "I'm sure she'll be no trouble." He looked at the hippodog doll he was carrying. "Actually, could you also-"

I said firmly, "No."

"Right, right. Just thought I'd ask."

"At least give the gift yourself. Sir."

He grimaced, tight-lipped. "When she is ready to see me. And I, her."

I stood with mixed feelings as I watched the back of the forlorn sergeant fade away into the crowd. The pink-purple monstrosity took a bit longer. I hoped it would be gifted to its intended girl soon. Trevain having a child, and entrusting her to me.

It was a mad, mad world.

I checked the time by looking where the sun almost was. There was still some time before a nice family dinner. Just enough for one last stop. I hauled my ever-enlargening luggage with the finality of a man who knew that tomorrow would bring the beginning of the end.

>Teas'n'Spices'n'Herbs
Nothing like pepper to liven up a meat dish. It was going to be expensive, but so are all good things in life.

>Temple of the Imperial Cult
Situated opposite to the Imperial Navy's garrison in Reed, sailors and fishermen often made sacrifices here to beg the Emperor for safe sailing.

>Return to Black Company quarters
Relaxing a little with the girls seemed an excellent proposition, what with all these knick-knacks I'd gathered. I also wanted to try the new armour on. It was the first time I'd purchased an armour of the heavy category.
>>
>>3697992

>Temple of the Imperial Cult.
>>
>>3697992
>>Return to Black Company quarters
let's see if we got the toys right
>>
>>3697992
>Teas'n'Spices'n'Herbs
We got one gold back let's spend it on things that could save life.
>>
>>3697997
isn't that place a restaurant? or a medicinal shop?
>>
>>3698002
And you want to come back to your wifes empty handed?
>>
>>3697992

>Temple of the Imperial Cult

Love is a strenge thing, makes us even turn to superstition by fear that something would happen, we already have the lucky charms in our pocket, might as well see to this too
>>
>>3697993
>>3698060
>Temple of the Imperial Cult

Whiskers. They just had to put whiskers. It was a Sinaean disease. They placed clumps of hare-y hair over the mouths of everyone notable in portraits and statues and mosaics and, on a certain memorable occasion, the wife of the Prefect of Jian'an while she was having her mid-afternoon nap. The Break-In of the Decade, the city criers had called it. The perpetrator was still at large.

I stared up to the august figure of the man who started it all, bewhiskered and hair done up in the Sinaean style, which was grown long and silky and then tied up and hidden all beneath a wacky hat, itself made up of woven animal hair. These people had a strange fascination with hairs. And I said, "Hullo."

The statue didn't hullo back.

Bloody rude of it, I thought. People became fond of their blood and flesh the further they were from their immediate family tree. Parents despised their children, remembering all the times they had to clean up after them, or having to appease them to studying. It was a long held conviction of mine that men and women only married and had kids in order to have grandchildren, who could do absolutely no wrong and whose messes were, as far as they were concerned, the responsibility of the now-parents. By that logic, great-grandsons should be worshipped. If he was really a god, he should at least animate his own statue to greet me back.

Then again, that would mean all of humankind would love each other, being distantly connected one way or the other, at the root of it all. That's the other thing about humans. Logic become illogical around them. And the Emperor was the most buggeringly confounding person of them all.

"We're heading to Wae." There was no response. "It'd be great if you could, well, look and see if the islanders' gods didn't interrupt." The statue remained as quiet as a statue, the way statues are wont to. I stared at the sightless thing. "Why am I doing this?" I asked myself. Magic was real. Gods were too, probably. They haven't walked the earth for as long as anyone alive could remember, but the priests seemed certain.
>>
>>3698077

"Emperor protect you, sir," an old man in a toga said gravely. He was Sinaean, wrinkled as a prune put out on a hot day in the sun. There was a brass insignia on his robe of office. A caretaker of the temple. "A genuine Alexandrian. We don't get many of your types here, sir. Too south. Too cosmopolitan."

"I'm not Alexandrian," I told him. "I'm Black Company."

"Ah, can't mistake blood, can we, sir? Golden eyes, the hallmark. The Gift."

The curse, I thought. "Not many people around here today." The temple was practically empty. It was just me and the old man.

He chuckled. "Festival of the Burning Lanterns. Drives the masses to honour their ancestors and older gods. Tradition, you understand."

"Tradition," I agreed. "Can't live without tradition."

"Though I feel it's all a bunch of poppycock," he continued. "Where was the Earth-Emperor when that earthquake happened, fourteen years ago? Or the Sea-Dragon-King with the flood in '22?"

"You're a priest."

"Caretaker, sir. Way I see it, the Emperor did more in the world than the gods combined. Least we can do is keep the house of remembrance clean."

That was one way to see it, though whether what he did was good or not remained up for debate. On one hand, he had united all of Sinae, and more. No more dynastic squabbles that lasted for ten generations. He'd built a great big waterway as well, alleviating the pressures of the Yellow River that once made it so prone to flooding. On the other hand, you had the purges. the Wars and Campaigns and Pacifications. Goebie. Khulan. Alexandria Eskhata.

It felt strange, to come into a temple after all this time. Twelve years now it had been since I left the Capital, and I hadn't entered a house of worship in all that time. This is why I hadn't wanted to get involved with other people, until I did. Marriage (marriages) opened all sorts of vulnerabilities in a man.

>I rubbed the toe of the Emperor. It was supposed to be lucky. Apparently a lot of people thought so as well. That spot was shinier than the other bits.

>"Goodbye, then," I said, not sure myself whether I was saying it to the old man or the statue. I left.
>>
>>3698083
>Whisper to the statue "If he's with you then tell Father..."
>>
>>3698083
>>"Goodbye, then," I said, not sure myself whether I was saying it to the old man or the statue. I left.
>>
>>3698083

>"Goodbye, then," I said, not sure myself whether I was saying it to the old man or the statue. I left.
>>
>>3698083
>>"Goodbye, then," I said, not sure myself whether I was saying it to the old man or the statue. I left.
>>
>>3698092
>>3698094
>>3698095
>>"Goodbye, then," I said, not sure myself whether I was saying it to the old man or the statue. I left.

I quickened my steps as I left the temple. The Happy Lucky Aupsicious Golden Poodle Old-Song Style Restaurant-Pub was a good establishment, and I wanted to get the balcony table that overlooked the sea. I took one last look back at the porphyric statue. It hadn't budged. So much for familial love.

---
Dinner at the Restaurant-Pub
>-6 silvers

"This is Mulberry. Mulberry, this is everyone." I introduced the girl to my family as the servers started carrying their wares to the hungry hungry people. Shamaness looked intrigued, Dumpling slightly wary. Hood simply focused on the food.

"Hi!" Honey said brightly. "Are you another of A-relly's bastards?"

The adults around the table choked on their drinks, sans Hood. She had been digging in on the twice-fried chicken and was gagging instead.

>"Where did you learn that word?" I said sternly, wagging a finger at Honey.

>"She's not mine!" I cried out hastily. "And what do you mean, 'another'?"
>>
>>3698108

>"She's not mine!" I cried out hastily. "And what do you mean, 'another'?"
>>
>>3698108
>>"She's not mine!" I cried out hastily. "And what do you mean, 'another'?"
>>
>>3698108

>"She's not mine!" I cried out hastily. "And what do you mean, 'another'?"

Yay family dinner
>>
>>3698108

>"She's not mine!" I cried out hastily. "And what do you mean, 'another'?"
>>
>>3698108
>"Where did you learn that word?" I said sternly, wagging a finger at Honey.
D-Did someone call Honey bastard? Let's find him and custrate that fuck
>>
>>3698120
>>3698123
>>3698185
>>3698187
>>"She's not mine!" I cried out hastily. "And what do you mean, 'another'?"

"Real nice to feel like I belong, chief," Mulberry said sarcastically. Then she started draining an entire plateful of smoked duck, carrots and all.

"Well, I'm a bastard," Honey said. "I don't have parents." I suddenly didn't feel so hungry anymore.

Growing up as she was in the middle of a mercenary camp, Honey had an unorthodox approach to linguistics. "We're your parents," Dumpling said, sighing with relief now that she was certain that Mulberry was not my bastard.

"All four of us," Shamaness agreed. "Aren't we, dear?" she gave me a meaningful look.

"Err..." Lingering reluctance to call myself a father had made me evade any clarification as to the precise nature of the relations between myself and Honey. I was her caretaker, just like that old man had been the temple's. Wasn't that good enough?

"She thinks she's a bastard," Shamaness said. I felt my heart tug.

"Don't see what the fuss is all about," Hood said. "Bastards have legs and hands like anyone else."

Mulberry stopped eating. "You try being one." Hood frowned. "Whose kid is this, then?"

I took a deep breath. "Trevain's."

"Trevain's?"

"Trevain's?"

"Hah! Good for him. Finally manned up and got himself a child, has he?"

"Hood! You can't just say that!"

And I thought family dinners were supposed to be restful things. I rubbed my face. "She's not a bastard either. She's the product of a... nautical marriage."

"Sounds pretty nauti," Dumpling deadpanned. Nobody laughed, as is proper after the deployment of a pun.

Hood broke the ice. "She does have his aura. Trevain's, I mean. Got that guarded look and everything."

"I'm a gutter rat," Mulberry said proudly. "We all got that look." The look that she was referring to was the haunted eyes of people on the run, all the time, with no certainties regarding their future prospects. It wasn't exclusive to criminal elements in cities. I'd had it, once.

"We can take care of her," Shamaness said with that motherly way of hers. "She'll be a good playmate for Honey, won't she?"

>"Actually, I'm thinking of enrolling her into the Company roster." Trevain hadn't actually done so yet. First there would need to be demonstrations of skill. And there was her age. I was considering making her my assistant in trooping matters, just as Lee was my assistant in scrivening things.

>"Yes. Playmates." They were going to go together like oil and water, I thought. Honey did not, as far as I knew, have that bitterness toward her original parents that Mulberry did. Would she be a good influence to her, or her a bad influence to she?
>>
>>3698196
>"Yes. Playmates." They were going to go together like oil and water, I thought. Honey did not, as far as I knew, have that bitterness toward her original parents that Mulberry did. Would she be a good influence to her, or her a bad influence to she?

Isn't Honey technically enrolled into company?
>>
>>3698205
As a Dependent, under Aurelius, Trp. Scrv. Lt. Trp.
>>
>>3698196
>>"Yes. Playmates." They were going to go together like oil and water, I thought. Honey did not, as far as I knew, have that bitterness toward her original parents that Mulberry did. Would she be a good influence to her, or her a bad influence to she?

what the fuck A-really, she is your daughter, why can't you just say it?
>>
>>3698196

>"Actually, I'm thinking of enrolling her into the Company roster." Trevain hadn't actually done so yet. First there would need to be demonstrations of skill. And there was her age. I was considering making her my assistant in trooping matters, just as Lee was my assistant in scrivening things.

I refuse to let that thing ambiguous, just tell Honey you are her father Aurelius

And give her those chestnuts and building blocks after dinner
>>
>>3698196

>"Actually, I'm thinking of enrolling her into the Company roster." Trevain hadn't actually done so yet. First there would need to be demonstrations of skill. And there was her age. I was considering making her my assistant in trooping matters, just as Lee was my assistant in scrivening things.
>>
>>3698196

>"Actually, I'm thinking of enrolling her into the Company roster." Trevain hadn't actually done so yet. First there would need to be demonstrations of skill. And there was her age. I was considering making her my assistant in trooping matters, just as Lee was my assistant in scrivening things.
>>
>>3698306
>>3698247
>>3698264
>"Actually, I'm thinking of enrolling her into the Company roster." Trevain hadn't actually done so yet. First there would need to be demonstrations of skill. And there was her age. I was considering making her my assistant in trooping matters, just as Lee was my assistant in scrivening things.

Besides, that Parthian plate wasn't going to wear itself. It was a devil of a thing to get into. I understood now why those Companion cavalrymen had servants all the time. "If she's willing," I added.

"Course I am. I totally kicked your arse during that-"

"See?" I said hastily, before Mulberry could recount the gory details, "Willing. She'll be my assistant. Get her to learn the ropes."

Her response was an indignant squeal. "Me? Learn the ropes? From you? I nearly-"

"Or she can go back to her father, and that is that." I didn't want them to know about my near-death, and for good reason. I had a feeling my bachelor privileges like hanging out with dangerous elements - which is to say, everyone in the Company - would be revoked. It would be a sensible thing to do, given my preternatural tendencies in getting into life-threatening situations. But what's in that kind of a life?

Mulberry sulked. "Learning the ropes it is, chief." Her sulking didn't last long, as wooden faced servers brought even more trays of food. From the way she was shoveling them in, I thought it might be her first time in a restaurant.

It was, overall, a nice thing to be married, I thought while we went through the next course. The pregnancies were freaking me out a little, but that was natural. They were actually due within the month. How time flies. Shamaness was a kindly older sister to Dumpling, who had been the middle of the triplets and liked being little sister'd. Hood was her usual self, if somewhat less moody and more impulsive. Hormones, no doubt. It had also made her much more affectionate. And Honey was Honey. Cheerful, rarely questioning, with surprisingly adultlike solemnity to her once in a while.

One big happy family. And I was going to be a father very soon, whether I liked it or not. Later in the night, when everyone else was asleep, I stole into the scriveners' tent. I opened up the Annals and opened the book of admissions to a well-thumbed page, finding:

Honey - Dependent of Aurelius, Scrv. Trp.

The first designation of trooper was scrubbed out while I was interim-Lieutenant. Then that title got scrubbed out to be trooper once more. Dependent. Dependent was a vague thing. A lot of other companymen had dependents. Usually they were family members who couldn't fight or camp followers of a more transactional nature. My quill hovered over the page.
>>
>>3698376

>I placed the quill back in its holder without making any alterations. I closed the book. "Not bloody ready," I murmured, and tidied up the workstation. Making sure not to awaken the scrivener in duty who was snoring like a mountain troll, I returned to the platoon tent.

>I scribbled out the word "Dependent", and replaced it with "Daughter (Adpt.)". I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Honey, Daughter of Aurelius, Trooper, Scrivener," I said quietly, eyes following the freshly-imprinted words. "Congratulations, me. You're a dad now." I felt dread. "Please don't fuck up this time."
>>
>>3698377

>I scribbled out the word "Dependent", and replaced it with "Daughter (Adpt.)". I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Honey, Daughter of Aurelius, Trooper, Scrivener," I said quietly, eyes following the freshly-imprinted words. "Congratulations, me. You're a dad now." I felt dread. "Please don't fuck up this time."
>>
>>3698376
>>I scribbled out the word "Dependent", and replaced it with "Daughter (Adpt.)". I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Honey, Daughter of Aurelius, Trooper, Scrivener," I said quietly, eyes following the freshly-imprinted words. "Congratulations, me. You're a dad now." I felt dread. "Please don't fuck up this time."

Lock this route boys and get ready for the pain train because it's coming.
>>
>>3698377
>>I scribbled out the word "Dependent", and replaced it with "Daughter (Adpt.)". I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Honey, Daughter of Aurelius, Trooper, Scrivener," I said quietly, eyes following the freshly-imprinted words. "Congratulations, me. You're a dad now." I felt dread. "Please don't fuck up this time."
>>
>>3698377
>>I scribbled out the word "Dependent", and replaced it with "Daughter (Adpt.)". I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Honey, Daughter of Aurelius, Trooper, Scrivener," I said quietly, eyes following the freshly-imprinted words. "Congratulations, me. You're a dad now." I felt dread. "Please don't fuck up this time."
>>
>>3698377
>>I scribbled out the word "Dependent", and replaced it with "Daughter (Adpt.)". I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Honey, Daughter of Aurelius, Trooper, Scrivener," I said quietly, eyes following the freshly-imprinted words. "Congratulations, me. You're a dad now." I felt dread. "Please don't fuck up this time."
And then we fuck everything up forever!
>>
>>3698377

>I scribbled out the word "Dependent", and replaced it with "Daughter (Adpt.)". I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Honey, Daughter of Aurelius, Trooper, Scrivener," I said quietly, eyes following the freshly-imprinted words. "Congratulations, me. You're a dad now." I felt dread. "Please don't fuck up this time."

I just realized Hood is the only one we don't know the real name, and they don't know ours too. That is something we could adress next tine we have some downtime
>>
>>3698380
>>3698382
>>3698383
>>3698385
>>3698389
>>3698390
>>I scribbled out the word "Dependent", and replaced it with "Daughter (Adpt.)". I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "Honey, Daughter of Aurelius, Trooper, Scrivener," I said quietly, eyes following the freshly-imprinted words. "Congratulations, me. You're a dad now." I felt dread. "Please don't fuck up this time."

"Scrivener."

The chair I was sitting on rattled onto the floor with the speed of my about-face. It was Trevain.

"Sir." I saluted. It's good to go through the formalities, especially when you're not completely friends with your boss.

"Enough with the salutes and sirs," Trevain sighed. And that's how you know that a sergeant is easing into his role. Sighs are endemic to the rank, and they grow to revile sirring from the common rank and file. "I was thinking."

"It's what you're paid to do, now that you're a sergeant."

He ignored my quip. "We're getting fresh new blood into the platoon tomorrow. The platoon is going to be a platoon. Back to full strength, as it were."

"So Captain finally got around to us," I said. Many of the platoons had been completely depopulated. Those were being filled in first with priority. "How many are we getting?"

"Three." A good news. "And we're being reformatted into the Rangers Corps, instead of General Infantry."

Oh no. "Oh no," I said. "Aren't they a strictly volunteers thing?"

"Times have changed. And our platoon managed to retain most of the old Companymen intact. We've suddenly become a veteran unit."

I deflated. Ranger work was dirty and not as shiny as the stormtroopers. It often meant riding ahead of the main body of the troop and scouting out locations, or other subterfuge nosense. Then I frowned. "Wait, haven't we been doing that already?"

Trevain nodded. "All thanks to you getting the attention of Captain last year," he said gravely. I groaned. It had been a mistake to try and perv around the women's hot springs. "There's also another thing. Prefect Sima Tan is finally ready to declare the start of the campaign. There will be a feast for the officers, corporals included."

"Mighty generous of him." We'd all known that this would be the last week to enjoy ourselves with civilian pleasures. We all felt it in our old campaigners' bones. Also the shipyard was being ominously quiet as of two days ago. "Corporals don't even count as an officer rank when it comes to pay. Guess the man has the wealth, so he can flaunt it. But why tell me?"

He looked at me with a completely readable expression.

>"No."

>"You owe me for helping with your daughter," I said. "Don't do this to me."

>"Well I'm sure Theophilos is up to the job," I said blithely.
>>
>>3698407

>"Well I'm sure Theophilos is up to the job," I said blithely.

hope you two enjoy dinner
>>
>>3698407
>>"Well I'm sure Theophilos is up to the job," I said blithely.
>>
>>3698407

>"Well I'm sure Theophilos is up to the job," I said blithely.
>>
>>3698407
>"Well I'm sure Theophilos is up to the job," I said blithely.
Rangers Corps we will fit right in with that new plate of ours
>>
>>3698412
>>3698416
>>3698426
>>3698460
>"Well I'm sure Theophilos is up to the job," I said blithely.

"Oh yes. He would be the talk of the party, I'm sure, with his facial scarring and everything else." Sarcasm was another trait of the archetypical sergeant. "Listen to yourself, man."

But I was obstinate. "If they are prejudiced against people who are cosmetically challenged, then that is their problem, not ours."

"It isn't just that. You know Theophilos. As good a man as he is, cannot lead. He's a natural-born follower."

"And how!" I've lost count of how many faiths Theophilos subscribed to. It was lots.

"Lead is what is what corporals must do when the sergeant..." he stopped involuntarily, "becomes indisposed." He added quickly, "Or split into fire teams."

"There's Hood, if you want the looks, or Dumpling." He didn't blink. "Shamaness?"

"She is not actually part of our platoon. So you did forget. I doubt Captain would approve one platoon hogging all the wizards."

"Oh." I stared unhappily at the Annals. "Raindrops."

We laughed. Then we quietened ourselves, looking furtively at the scrivener on duty. He snorted in his sleep.

Trevain returned to being earnest, which was one of his default positions. The other was being blank. "I will make Raindrops corporal, if you really think that's the best idea."

"Corporal Raindrops. Somehow, I am getting a bad feeling about that." I rubbed my eyes. It did little to relieve the tension behind them. "You may make Captain yet, old boy. Got that natural power of persuasion and all. I don't have a choice, do I?"

For a moment, Trevain looked sad. "We never do."
>>
>>3698481
The feast was more pomp than meat. Sugared things that looked like they would crumble at the merest whiff lined the tables, behind which the officers of four different mercenary companies and the People's Militia ("Peasants with a death wish," Raindrops called them) sat. Some bookie had the bright idea of mixing things up by distributing them throughout different armies. To my right sat Eminent General Teng from the People's Militia, and to my left, squad leader Venner of the Company of the Rat. The representatives from the People's Militia outnumbered those of the professional free companies by six to one.

"How can you tell?" Venner asked while cheerily stuffing his face with the round sweet riceball things. "Their armours are all mismatched," I replied. "And all of them are generals, somehow."

"Your armour isn't like the other Black Company corporals'," he pointed out.

"I saved up." I felt like trying out the new purchase.

"Padding up the titles." He shook his head. "Amateurs. Still, they've got numbers. No offence to your highness," he said to the Eminent General.

He sighed. "None taken." He looked familiar. My mind clicked. I asked, "Are you related to Gloomy Teng?"

"His second son. I joined because my brother would inherit the smithy anyway. Then they made me a general. Me, a general!" He looked reproachfully at his plate. "I don't even know how to read."

Venner smiled sympathetically. "Cheer up! The Waelanders don't know how to fight. Once we land, it'll be easy to sweep them out."

"Is that true?" I'd heard otherwise.

"Of course! They know how to fight on the sea, but when it comes to the land? They'll fold like badly made cards."

Venner was cocksure. I didn't share his confidence, feeling a sense of unease among the higher ups. I stole a glance at the head of the table where the mercenary leaders and the Prefect sat. Captain was quietly arguing something with the leader of the Banded Brothers.

I tried one of the puffballs. It was way too sweet.

>"What's the Company of the Rat like?" I asked Venner.

>"I bought this armour from your father," I said to Eminent General Teng. "He didn't tell me his son was in the Militia."
>>
>>3698493
>>"I bought this armour from your father," I said to Eminent General Teng. "He didn't tell me his son was in the Militia."
>>
>>3698493
>>"What's the Company of the Rat like?" I asked Venner.
>>
>>3698493
>"I bought this armour from your father," I said to Eminent General Teng. "He didn't tell me his son was in the Militia."
>>
>>3698493
>>"I bought this armour from your father," I said to Eminent General Teng. "He didn't tell me his son was in the Militia."
>>
>>3698498
>>3698514
>>3698524
>"I bought this armour from your father," I said to Eminent General Teng. "He didn't tell me his son was in the Militia."

"Too ashamed," he said dolorously. "No Teng went to the soldiery business before. But what was I supposed to do? No Teng ever had second sons, either. The older generations are all rot. Ruining our futures and prospectives by their greedy actions."

I made some sympathetic but vague noises, enough to launch him into a monologue about the difficulties of the youth of the day what with rising housing prices and unreasonable expectations from their elders. It was amusing to see such stark similarity between the father and son.

"Welcome, heroes and warriors of peerless virtue!" Prefect Tan boomed, and the rest settled down. "The Emperor is no doubt with us today as we celebrate the third expedition against the ignorant and piratical Wae people!"

It was the usual malarkey. There was the bit about how proud he was to enlist the help of such eminent free companies as well as the favour of the People (with a capital P). Then a mention of the weather, which the astrologers assured would be clear and storm-free. Some self congratulations to himself on picking the right time and the right people for the project. Wae islands, he said, was a hotspot of piracy. It was righteous to burn out the thieves' and pirates' dens. He applauded the local shipyards (owned by the Sima Clan) which built the transport ships in record speed ("by making revolutionary construction methods, and, of course, making use of less resource-intensive crafts!"). Then he talked about the projected profits of the campaign.

He sounded more a merchant than a war leader.

"I will be overseeing the invasion aboard my flagship!" he said. He was perpetually shouting. "Most of the companies will be aboard the perfectly safe and sturdy flatships! But I find I require a personal bodyguard force! The reason I called for the lowest-ranked officers for this feast was to compare the strength and valour of all of those officers, for are they not the salt of the soldiery?" He grinned, pleased at that flowery sentence. "Whichever Company -" Overcommander of the People's Militia coughed into his cup, "- or indeed, Militiaman, stands last, will decide which Company or Militia rides along in my personal vessel!"

The gods give, and the gods take. Never trust the gods when the good happens, because there is always the Other Shoe waiting to be dropped... On the other hand, as far as tournament stakes went, this was low. The distance between the islands of Wae and Reed was very short, only a few days' journey at most. Flatships - typically utilised as river barges and not ocean-going vessels - were probably going to be good enough.
>>
I liked low stakes. It put less responsibility on the gambler.

"You'll be using live weapons! Don't be shy about surrendering!" the Prefect shouted.

Right. The Other Shoe.

>"Team up for the first round?" I asked Venner. "The Militia officers outnumber us by a lot."

>"Why don't we pair up for the first wave?" I suggested to Teng. "I'll make sure to not attack any militiaman."
>>
>>3698533
>astrologers assured would be clear and storm-free.
Yeah right

I was hoping the prefect would die to rid us of the cobtract but it seems he is on the best ship


>"Why don't we pair up for the first wave?" I suggested to Teng. "I'll make sure to not attack any militiaman."
>trusting RAT company
>>
>>3698533
>>"Team up for the first round?" I asked Venner. "The Militia officers outnumber us by a lot."
>>
>>3698533
>"Why don't we pair up for the first wave?" I suggested to Teng. "I'll make sure to not attack any militiaman."
Built, Teng, Tough.
>>
>>3698542
>>3698576
>"Why don't we pair up for the first wave?" I suggested to Teng. "I'll make sure to not attack any militiaman."

"Might as well," he shrugged. "I am not sure I will be of much help. We've only been drilling for three weeks." But he bumbled off to get his armour on. Men like the Tengs may grumble, but they're also the kind to do their duties conscientiously. More's the pity that they end up in the front lines of war.

Corporal Nunce nudged me on passing while the militia officers were hurriedly taking off their fancy clothes and armouring themselves. He whispered, "Surrender at the nearest opportunity. Captain's words."

"What?"

"Captain wants all corporals of the Black Company to simply surrender," he reiterated lowly. "No point in playing along with his sick game, she says."

"But isn't it good to be in the flagship?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "Do you want to be with that booming man for the entire voyage?"

Convincing argument. And on any other day, I would have accepted it without hesitation. A command to prevent myself from further wounding was, as far as I was concerned, the greatest command there can be. Besides, the astrologers mentioned good weather for sailing.

On the other hand, there was this really lovely armour I was itching to test out. And what an armour! The steel was a smoky, patterned thing that seemed to radiate danger. Whoever was the blessed armourwright that had worked with the substance, he had a keen eye for practicality as well as fashion. That was one of the reasons I was wearing the plate while sitting in a banquet without looking like a toilet can. One of the other reasons was paranoia.

I wondered who the last owner was, and how it had ended up in Gloomy Teng's shop.

>"Alright." [Truth]

>"Sure." [Lie]
>>
>>3698599
>"Alright." [Truth]
>>
>>3698599
>"Sure." [Lie
>>
Would Capitan count on us being disobedient?
>>
>>3698617
Switching to
>"Sure." [Lie]
we are Trooper
>>
>>3698645
So orders do not apply to us
>>
>>3698599

>"Sure." [Lie]

We can try to calm cap down later
>>
>>3698657
>We can try to calm cap down later
We don't need to win, we can surrender later down the road. Also we peired up, it would be a dick move to just leave the guy hanging
>>
>>3698599
>>"Sure." [Lie]
>>
>>3698669
Fair enough.

>>3698599
Changing vote to
>"Sure." [Lie]
>>
>>3698620
>>3698645
>>3698657
>>3698699
>>3698700
>"Sure." [Lie]

All corporals to simply surrender.

So the Captain had a plan. She usually had a plan. I hoped that it was a bloody good one, because faking a defeat was harder than trying to win. I would have to drop my weapon cleverly or fake being hurt convincingly enough for laymen, and that happened to be shockingly high. The average person didn't consider a tap in the head, debilitating as it is, to be an injury that would keep a man fully armed and armoured down for long.

I blame the operas. They make out warriors to be some kind of all-enduring titans.

"This is going to be fun," Teng said sighingly, hefting a spear. I tried not to look too despairing. It was older than the Emperor, or at least the rusted iron bit was. Dagger-axes haven't been in production for millennia.

"Family hand-me-downs?" I asked.

"How did you know?"

"I'm a genius." Because no one else carried them except as antiques.

"Well, it will be good to have a genius watching my back. Here's to you, Aurelius of the Black Company." Damn. I'd been the one to ask him to help each other. I had to weather the first few minutes, at least. He gave me a visual once-over. "You look a little terrifying in that armour. Are you sure you are a corporal and not like, I don't know, a real general?"

"Me? A corporal? Pfft." I put on my mask-helm. "I'm just a trooper."

Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy
Eminent General Teng
>Combat = +84DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Parthian plate +15DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Cavalryman's helm +6DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC, Teng +8DC]
>Armour Value = 55AV [Parthian plate +40AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Cavalryman's helm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33), Parthian plate (up to 3 AV rolls)
VS
Venner: Healthy
Rat Company Fighter
Rat Company Bruiser
Rat Company Daggerer
>Combat = 59DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled +2DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Shortsword +6DC, Looted squareshield +2DC, Rat Company Allies x3 +36DC]
>Armour Value = 14AV [Eskhatan mail +12AV, Looted squareshield +2AV]

Personal Combat DC75
>3d100
>>
>>3698669
I'm extremely fearful of travelling on those flagships
if we have a pause between around and the other we should tell the captain that the annoying prefect is a small price to pay for not sinking on a glorified barge that is not suitable for ocean travel
>>
Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>3698705
>>
Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>3698705
wew
>>
>>3698706
Flagships are the heavier types, which tend to weather the open sea much better compared to the flatships which lack a shaped keel and are more suitable as river barges. The Prefect's flagship specifically is a venerable vessel of the old Song-Dynasty style instead of the modern, lightweight and flat-bottomed ones that most of the transport ships will be, mass produced as they are.

Not that you know this in character. But you do know that flagships = more expensive and long-time-to-build vessels.
>>
Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>3698705
.
>>
>>3698718
>flagships = more expensive and long-time-to-build vessels.
=most likely to be targeted by not!weebs magic
>>
>>3698712
>>3698715
>>3698727
>3 Success
>6 Damage (distributed)

"Shouldn't have sided with one of the militias," Venner said, grinning. "You think their numbers will help you? Look at them, all floundering around!"

"I don't need more people to deal with you," I told him.

"You best not underestimate us," one of Venner's friends said with a laugh. "We're the Company of the Rat! Famed throughout Sinae for being your arch-rivals!"

I was a Scrivener, and I'd never heard of the Company of the Rat. I said so in not as many words. "Never heard of you."

That goaded them. "Get the Blackie!" Venner said. I was being called a colour other than gold for the first time. "Ignore the stupid "Eminent General", they're just paper tigers!"

Bruiser and Fighter made to pincer me from both sides, showcasing a martial cunning that showed that theirs wasn't a hollow boast. They were professionals after a fashion, displaying pack tactics that Sergeant would have been proud of. And I was all alone, save for Teng who was busy trying to keep the stabber away from him.

Unfortunately for them, I was from the Black Company. Bruiser came first, Fighter a split second later. I slid left-back to dodge the horizontal mace swing and met his flailing arm with my shortsword, leaving a small but rapidly bleeding wound that chipped his right ribcage. Before Fighter could react to the sudden 1v1, I barreled into him with my buckler. He buckled. I made a gentle stab that made sure he stayed that way.

Teng looked at the ground with macabre fascination. "How did you...?"

"No time to talk," I told him. I slashed my gladius downward to rid of the clinging blood.

And Venner got more friends.

Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy
Eminent General Teng
>Combat = +84DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Parthian plate +15DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Cavalryman's helm +6DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC, Teng +8DC]
>Armour Value = 55AV [Parthian plate +40AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Cavalryman's helm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
VS
Venner: Healthy
Rat Company Punisher
Rat Company Executor
Rat Company Daggerer
Rat Company Heavy
>Combat = 59DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled +2DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Shortsword +6DC, Looted squareshield +2DC, Rat Company Allies x3 +36DC]
>Armour Value = 14AV [Eskhatan mail +12AV, Looted squareshield +2AV]

Personal Combat DC75
>3d100
>>
Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>3698718
yeah, I that was a typo, I am extremely fearful of traveling in the flatships

here are some arguments to convince the captain we should continue the fight

> He applauded the local shipyards (owned by the Sima Clan) which built the transport ships in record speed ("by making revolutionary construction methods, and, of course, making use of less resource-intensive crafts!"). Then he talked about the projected profits of the campaign.

in this sentence the prefect is basically admitting that the flatships were rushed the fuck out and used less than ideal resources, from his own shipyards, so he was basically money laundering by paying his company with the cities money

and, if there is anyone that can argue with the captain about orders it's Aurelius since he stopped her teenage suicide pact plan

>>3698751
rolling
>>
Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>3698751
>>
>>3698751
Time to derp
>>
Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>3698764
>>3698751
Well I derped a little too hard
>>
>>3698762
>>3698769
>>3698755
>2 Success
>4 Damage to Punisher
>1 Damage to Heavy

Daggerer should have been removed from roster, it's a typo that it's still there

The fight was attracting attention, the kind that made participants of a melee tournament go "Maybe we should nab that guy first before we fight each other". But they would first have to go through "You point your sword away first!" "No you!" and variations thereof. And humans are such undiplomatic creatures. I still had time. And this time, Luck favoured me.

Venner was the most experienced among the Rats that I'd faced so far. His easy gait and commanding presence (of a sort) spoke to that. I wondered if he really was just a squad leader as he had claimed. Maybe a rung higher? Mercenaries are full of tricks. You have to fight the dirt with dirt.

The Punisher lifted his maul up, and like all things following Newtonian physics, let it return to the earth, hopefully (for him) with bits of Aurelius under the metal. I was hoping otherwise. In a metaphysical realm, far away from prying eyes, these two hopes duelled for aeons before one triumphed over the other and tipped the scales of Fortune. In the physical realm, I planted my sword into his neck before he could adjust the trajectory of his maul to account for my horizontal sidestep.

Teng managed to scrape the Heavy. "I got him," he mumbled. "Now he's going to get even madder and kill me."

Venner was running out of meatshields. Other Rats were fighting other mercenaries elsewhere, after all.

Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy
Eminent General Teng
>Combat = +84DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Parthian plate +15DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Cavalryman's helm +6DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC, Teng +8DC]
>Armour Value = 55AV [Parthian plate +40AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Cavalryman's helm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
VS
Venner: Healthy
Rat Company Executor
Rat Company Daggerer
>Combat = 59DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled +2DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Shortsword +6DC, Looted squareshield +2DC, Rat Company Allies x2 +24DC]
>Armour Value = 14AV [Eskhatan mail +12AV, Looted squareshield +2AV]

Personal Combat DC87
>3d100
>>
Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>3698797
WEEB DEITIES! HEAR OUR BULLSHIT DICE IN THE DISTANCE!
>>
Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>3698797
>>
Good lord, I keep forgetting to roll for enemy AV.
>>
Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>3698797
>>
Rolled 12, 38 = 50 (2d100)

>>3698804
>>3698805
>>3698822
AV for two individuals
>>
>>3698804
>>3698805
>>3698822
>3 Success
>2 Damage to Heavy (AV success)
>3 Damage to Executor

To everyone's surprise, Teng's spear worked. It worked in the sense that a quarterstaff will hurt if swung hard enough even through armour, of course. The blunted edge hardly did anything to do its job, which was penetrate the hard parts. But it acted as a sort of improvised pick, with which Teng's blacksmith-forged muscles could make a point of pain. He felled the Rat Heavy, who joined the by now large number of prone and unconscious would-be corpses.

So this was why Captain had ordered the general surrender. She didn't want Company lives wasted in this stupid bout. But she wasn't shouting at me to stop. I risked a glance.

She was smiling like the devil. Beside her, the Rat leader fumed. "Can't you get one fucking Black Company stormtrooper down, Venner?" he shouted.

"Nope!" he shouted back, and scrabbled away. I thought I heard Captain chuckle.

I shrugged. There were four others in the field still. Either the strong or the lucky. Both would be formidable.

"You've done well, Teng," one of them called out to my partner. "Now leave that Black Company soldier. We of the People's Militia have to stick together." Two of the militiamen other than Teng had managed to survive. Pretty bad ratio, considering they'd initially outnumbered every non-militiamen by one to six. The other two were one from the Banded Brotherhood, which only accepted those of Sinaean nobility, and a spearman from the Marchers, one of the smaler up and coming free companies that thrived in the conflict-filled borders of the Empire.

I didn't think the two militiamen had a chance even two versus one against either of them, but three would make a difference. Quantity does have a quality its own.

>"Join up your friends," I told Teng with a friendly pat on the arm. "You've done well. If you survive, I wouldn't be surprised to see you become Gold Star General." Or something equally funny and overpuffed.

>I decided to attack him before he could make up his mind. All is fair in war and love, remember?
>>
>>3698860
>"Join up your friends," I told Teng with a friendly pat on the arm. "You've done well. If you survive, I wouldn't be surprised to see you become Gold Star General." Or something equally funny and overpuffed.
Gotta bro it up.
>>
>>3698860
>"Join up your friends," I told Teng with a friendly pat on the arm. "You've done well. If you survive, I wouldn't be surprised to see you become Gold Star General." Or something equally funny and overpuffed.
>>
>>3698860

>"Join up your friends," I told Teng with a friendly pat on the arm. "You've done well. If you survive, I wouldn't be surprised to see you become Gold Star General." Or something equally funny and overpuffed.

I was temped to punch his face and make him surrender so he would step out of this alive
>>
>>3698867
>I was temped to punch his face and make him surrender so he would step out of this alive
Same, but whenever we duel someone we use dirty tricks or were really distrustful. So I thought let's mix it up a little bit
>>
>>3698860

>"Join up your friends," I told Teng with a friendly pat on the arm. "You've done well. If you survive, I wouldn't be surprised to see you become Gold Star General." Or something equally funny and overpuffed.
>>
>>3698864
>>3698865
>>3698867
>>3698892
>"Join up your friends," I told Teng with a friendly pat on the arm. "You've done well. If you survive, I wouldn't be surprised to see you become Gold Star General." Or something equally funny and overpuffed.

"They didn't consider me worth partnering with," he said slowly. "I don't want to be with the Prefect in his stupid ship, anyway."

"Teng?" the other Militiaman said uncertainly. General of the Peacocks, I named him internally. He was overdressed for the occasion. "You are not going to betray your oath, are you?"

"I signed my papers for a war against the Waelanders who raped my sister," Teng growled. "Not to play-fight in front of the overbearing Prefect. So fuck your false camaraderie." He paused. "I'm going to get fired for badmouthing the Prefect in front of him, aren't I." His voice was resigned. "Ah well. Us Tengs have never been lucky."

"Well, you've got the cynicism of a mercenary down," I said encouragingly. As one, the two of us attacked the militiamen. Just as suddenly, the Marcher joined forces with the upjumped peacocks.

Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy
Dolorous Teng: Healthy
>Combat = +86DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Parthian plate +15DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Cavalryman's helm +6DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC, Teng +10DC]
>Armour Value = 55AV [Parthian plate +40AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Cavalryman's helm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
VS
Marcher: Battered
General Peacock: Battered
General Up-Yours: Healthy
>Combat = 67DC [Battered +0DC, Veteran II +10DC, Skilled II +4DC, Dirty Fighting II +5DC, Master Swordsman +25DC, Eskhatan mail +0DC, Good quality longsword +8DC, Oakenshield (damaged) +3DC, Two Generals +12DC]
>Armour Value = 20AV [Eskhatan mail +12AV, Iron helm +5AV, Oakenshield (damaged) +3AV]

Personal Combat DC69
>3d100
>>
Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>3698913
>>
Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>3698913
Seems we got a recruit, if he lives
>>
Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>3698913
Holy crap the power of brosona.
>>
Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>3698913
.
>>
>>3698930
>>3698926
>>3698921
>>3698933
We are achieving peak Anime levels gentlemen and ladies.
>>
since we are a scrivener and an official, and we rolled like crazy, can we make he recite the oath and join as a brother during the fight?
>>
>>3698937
The new armor was worth it
>>
>>3698921
>>3698926
>>3698930
>March disarmed
>6 Damage to General Peacock - KILLED

"Luck," I said sympathetically after the Marcher lost his sword from an old traveler trick involving a board and a stick. Except in this case, I had a sword and a buckler. "Also, life experience. Surrender?"

Marcher went quietly. He didn't feel like risking his life for a seat in the big ship. The peacocks, however...

"You dishonour your family name, Teng!"

"Blacksmiths! They had no honour in the first place! Do you remember, brother, how his sister returned after being befouled by the Wae pirates?"

"Yes, brother! She should have committed honourable suicide before they seeded her with their filthy islander-"

I stopped listening to them. There are some words that do not deserve the privilege of being heard.

Sinaeans are not a bad people, by and large. They can be somewhat slow, yet cunningly calculating. And like every single race in the world, they consider other people-races to be inferior and barbaric. But they were also honourable, in their own way. Kind, in the sense that the village idiot never starved to death.

And they loved their family very, very much.

Teng made a kind of steam-leaving-kettle sound as he thundered toward the two peacock generals (turns out they were oath-sworn brothers), somehow getting that antique spear of his to penetrate the man through. This was technically not supposed to be to the death. Teng forgot. And he forgot again. It's amazing, what blunt force can do to augment a terrible weapon.

"Brother!" General Up-Yours shouted in what would have been a tragic voice if he wasn't such an arsehole. "Foul Alexandrian! Now you will gang up against me, only proving your lack of gentlemanly honour!"

Oh bother. "You feel like you can handle the other one, Teng?" I called. He responded with a kind of snort I'd only heard from bulls before. Very angry bulls. "Alrighty, then. Looks like it's you and me, Bandie."

"Pleasure." The man - if he could be called a man, what with his effeminate chiselled face that women loved for being so like theirs - twirled his spear experimentally, trying to distract me with its movement. The Banded were the most well-funded free company in the entire Empire. They could have been good if they didn't go for an "exclusive" recruitment pool, which made things difficult for them. Still, that also ensured steady "gifts" from interested nobility who liked to see their third and fourth sons go around in the highest of fashion, while retaining that mystique of mercenary work.

Mystique of blood and mud and trampled hearts. They were an insult to the common mannish profession that soldiering was. They were also capable of affording very expensive gear.

Sometimes, that means magic.
>>
>>3698993

Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy

>Combat = +76DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Parthian plate +15DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Cavalryman's helm +6DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC]
>Armour Value = 55AV [Parthian plate +40AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Cavalryman's helm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
VS
Noble Git: Healthy
>Combat = 65DC [Healthy +5DC, Newbie -10DC, Skilled +2DC, Trained from Birth +10DC, Spear Aficionado +10DC, Imperial Centurion armour +10DC, Quality Imperial galea +5DC, Fourfold Truths Ebony Spear +20DC, Ori wisp amulet +13DC]
>Armour Value = 20AV [Imperial Centurion armour +10AV, Quality Imperial galea +10AV]

Personal Combat DC61
>3d100
>>
Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>3698998
>>
Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>3698998
.
>>
Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>3698998
Bash and crash.
>>
Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>3698998
>>
no doubles, we good for now
>>
Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>3698998
>>
Rolled 76 (1d100)

I need one person to roll 1d100 for AV. 1d100 because it only did 1 Damage.
Rolling for enemy AV
>>
Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>3699024
>>
Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>3699024
Ow our face.
>>
>>3699007
>>3699013
>>3699017
>>3699024
>>3699026
>1 Success
>1 Damage received, 1 Damage dealt

"You are an Alexandrian," he said calmly as my sword met his spear. Usually, I could cut through any old wooden handle-bits. This one was different. "You could be great, if you join us. Leave your ragged brothers in black behind. Fulfill your potential." He smelled of lilac and rosemary.

"Up yours," I replied. No point in making any expression. He couldn't see mine. He chuckled artificially. "There is no need for such... unrefined behaviour. We are both nobility, you and I. Born and bred for war!"

The annoying thing about staff weapons are that they are much less predictable than shortswords at the hand of an experienced practitioner. The noble in front of me was not an experienced practitioner. Even as I stumbled back, head ringing inside my helm, I grinned smugly from the cut that marred his beautiful face. Red seeped out.

"Not much of a blue-blood yourself," I taunted.

He sniffed nobly. "Very well, I shall kill you."

Scrivener Aurelius: Battered

>Combat = +71DC [Battered +0DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Parthian plate +15DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Cavalryman's helm +6DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC]
>Armour Value = 55AV [Parthian plate +40AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Cavalryman's helm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)
VS

Noble Git: Battered

>Combat = 60DC [Battered +0DC, Newbie -10DC, Skilled +2DC, Trained from Birth +10DC, Spear Aficionado +10DC, Imperial Centurion armour +10DC, Quality Imperial galea +5DC, Fourfold Truths Ebony Spear +20DC, Ori wisp amulet +13DC]
>Armour Value = 20AV [Imperial Centurion armour +10AV, Quality Imperial galea +10AV]

Personal Combat DC69
>3d100
Divine Health DC33
>1d100
>>
Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>3699052
>>
Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>3699052
>>
>>3699062
doubles!
>>3699068
double doubles!
>>
Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>3699052
Oh boy he's retarded. Unfortunately his skills are separate of his intelligence
>>
Rolled 36 (1d100)

>>3699052
.
>>
Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>3699068
Noble Git Counter-Reroll
>>
Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>3699087
And AV
>>
>>3699091
do we roll our av too?
>>
Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>3699091
.
>>
>>3699094
Nope
>>
>>3699062
>>3699068
>>3699071
>2 Success
>1 Doubles Crit (2nd doubles crit annulled by enemy counter-reroll), enemy disarmed

It was the spear. I was certain of it. Three bouts had given me some insight to his reflexes. They were nowhere quick enough, but somehow, always... the spear rose to meet my blow or needling point.

"You try with utter futility," he said gleefully, like a cat toying with a mouse. "This is the Fourfold Truths Ebony Spear!"

"I really don't care for overly long descriptive names on weapons," I cut him off. "Mine's called the gladius hispaniensis. Guess where it was made."

He shook with rage. "Uncouth beast, you dirty the Alexandrian name. And to think, you were chosen to receive divine blood whereas I, third son of His Eminence the-"

There is a reason people in battle do not usually rattle off their pedigree. It's a matter of breathing. You need extra air in your lungs to expel and turn into sounds, see? And lots of talking means lots of inhale-exchale, more than you would when just focusing on attacks. And like a clock that's been wound up a little too tight and has its seconds going ticktock instead of tick, tock, he tires easier.

This is why the legionary does not talk. The centurions going behind their lines make sure to beat the head of anyone who speaks out of turn. With utter silence, we prosecuted our defensive wars of expansion. Those were the days. Now, I made do with a few words to get the rise of the enemy. I no longer had legionary brothers in arms side by side, after all. And no centurion to yell at me for talking.

It worked.

His grip on his spear weakened an infinitesimally small amount, and I was able to lever with that momentary weakness, sliding my blade down the length of the blade and cracking his manicured fingernails with the ivory pommel of my nameless sword. He screamed wordlessly as the spear rolled away with a reluctant thud. I bashed his head with my buckler, almost as an afterthought. Just to be sure.

He fell to his knees, clutching his mouth. I think I broke some things. I had him by my swordpoint.

>"Surrender?" I asked.

>And I lunged forward.
>>
>>3699122
>"Surrender?" I asked.
>>
>>3699122
>"Surrender?" I asked.
>>
>>3699122
>"Surrender?" I asked
>>
>>3699122

>"Surrender?" I asked.
>>
>>3699122

>"Surrender?" I asked.
>>
>>3699130
Actually I would like to change to
>I looked at the captain to find out what to do
>>
>>3699172
Sounds good
>>
>>3699138
>>3699144
>>3699145
>>3699167

>"Surrender?" I asked.

Always be wary of Surprise Dagger.

>3d100
>>
Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>3699185
They are all cunts
>>
Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>3699185
>>
Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>3699185
>>
>>3699194
>>3699198
>>3699199
Now roll for AV, if you would be so kind
>>
Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>3699205
>>
>>3699207
and now we murder the fuck out of him
>>
Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>3699205
.
>>
Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>3699205
AV is Bo3?
>>
>>3699207
>AV pass

"Really." I looked at the snapped knife on the floor. "A knife. Against a fully plated man. Do they just skip out on common sense in your- you know what, I don't even want to know what you don't know." I would have facepalmed, but my facemask was in the way. I kicked him under the chin, causing him to spread-eagle on the floor. Teeth fell and rattled.

Teng was standing with his bloody dagger-axe over the second dead brother. I gave him a thumbs up. He threw his weapon away, indicating surrender.

"Well!" the Prefect boomed. "Well, well, well!" Like a chiming waterclock. "I believe we do have a winner. One of your stormtroopers, Captain Zhukova?"

She was trying not to be overly smug. "No, just one of the Scriveners."

"Ah, the bard warriors! I think I know which company I want to protect my venerable-" (and extensive, I thought) "-form." He clapped his hands, and servants appeared to drag the wounded to be cared for. "Now that it is all over," he thundered, "the Teng fellow is to be apprehended for libel against the Prefect Tan. But jolly good show, all around!"

>"Requesting interim sergeancy, Captain!" Only sergeants and above could recruit. And it took scriveners to finalise the decision.

>I watched as Teng was led, unprotesting, out of the feast hall. He looked resigned. Sinaeans have a thing for authority figures. That was why I was so surprised when he went nuts against those obviously highborn brotheres.
>>
>>3699249
No, one AV roll for one point of damage. But normal armour only have 1 AV roll available, which means it can only ever soak 1 damage at most. Yours can soak 3 damage individually.
>>
>>3699255
>"Requesting interim sergeancy, Captain!" Only sergeants and above could recruit. And it took scriveners to finalise the decision.
>>
>>3699255

>"Requesting interim sergeancy, Captain!" Only sergeants and above could recruit. And it took scriveners to finalise the decision.

A life and early death as a merc must be good too
>>
>>3699255
>"Requesting interim sergeancy, Captain!" Only sergeants and above could recruit. And it took scriveners to finalise the decision.
Ugh, how could we not do it
>>
>>3699255
>"Requesting interim sergeancy, Captain!" Only sergeants and above could recruit. And it took scriveners to finalise the decision.
We're on him like a waifufag.
>>
>>3699266
>>3699273
>>3699277
>>3699291
>"Requesting interim sergeancy, Captain!" Only sergeants and above could recruit. And it took scriveners to finalise the decision.

She made a sideway glance at the froglike Prefect, and nodded.

"Teng! Training in weapons?" Two of the Prefect's household guards appeared to apprehend him.

"Spear, I suppose." He had returned to being introspective.

"Languaged learned!"

"Sinaean. My dad always said I should learn more-"

"Background issues? Anything that will drag in to the well-being of the Company?" As I said the words, I could almost hear the voice of Sergeant, that warm spring afternoon in a village named Whistle.

"I've killed some highborns." It seemed to dawn upon him now. slowly sat down. The guards hauled him up. "My family is going to be executed."

"Not anymore, Teng. By authority of the the Holy Writ of the Emperor, in the Naturalisation Charter of the Black Company, Company identity supersedes your previous personal one. DoyousweartoupholdtheBlackCompany'svaluesandtreatthebrotherswithinasyourown?" I was speaking too fast now, because he was being hauled out. "Just say yes," I added.

"...Yes?"

He was dazed. Poor bugger. Hadn't had the time to truly decide. Regret could come later, I decided. "Your new name is Daggeraxe." I didn't have time for more imaginative names. "There is no more Teng, son of Gloomy Teng. As such, I would appreciate it if your men would stop manhandling a brother of the black, Prefect Tan."

The guards hesitated and looked to their boss. He was stroking his tiny wisps of a whisker.

Parthian Panoply (plate + helm) = +20DC
Orative Performance DC70
>3d100
>>
Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>3699333
>>
Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>3699333
>>
Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>3699333
>>
Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>3699333
>>
>>3699343
>>3699345
>>3699350
>2 Success

"We wouldn't wish to step on the Holy Writ-thingamagig," the Prefect said loudly. "Very well, Teng is dead. Return to your stations!"

I sighed with some relief as I helped Teng- Daggeraxe up his feet. He was clutching his antique spear so tightly I wondered it didn't shatter.

But the Prefect wasn't finished. "An auspicious beginning to a war, this bloodshed!" The glum faces of the leaders of the other companies indicated that they thought different. Only Captain was smiling. "Tomorrow, the boarding begins!" Then suddenly, his voice went normal-volume, which made everyone unconsciously lean forward. "Tomorrow, we sail to Wae. An end to the pirates. That is all. Good night." And the Prefect fell on his chair and started snoring. From the lack of concern from his guards, apparently he did this a lot.

What an odd man.

I retrieved the definitely magical spear from the Noble Git from the floor.

>I dropped it beside the unconscious Noble Git. It was his, even if he had purchased it with his dad's money. I wasn't exactly a self-made man myself.

>I gave it to Daggeraxe. "Welcome to the fucking shitshow," I said with a grin. "You are going to wish you died here today, but at least your family doesn't get executed like this." I felt the glare of the Banded Brotherhood's grandmaster bore into the back of my head.
>>
>>3699398
>>I gave it to Daggeraxe. "Welcome to the fucking shitshow," I said with a grin. "You are going to wish you died here today, but at least your family doesn't get executed like this." I felt the glare of the Banded Brotherhood's grandmaster bore into the back of my head.
>>
>>3699398

>I dropped it beside the unconscious Noble Git. It was his, even if he had purchased it with his dad's money. I wasn't exactly a self-made man myself

Better not make anymore enemies, even if they will probably sink and die to the last men


Are the pregnant wives and Honey traveling with us? I imagine they would not leave anyone behind

And I just realize that the rest of the company muat be pissed with us since put the only two mages out of commission
>>
>>3699436
Let's just say using magic right now may be a bad idea for the infants. As for the anger? Some think you are a troublemaker. Others consider you to merely to be a troublemagnet.
>>
>>3699398
>I dropped it beside the unconscious Noble Git. It was his, even if he had purchased it with his dad's money. I wasn't exactly a self-made man myself.
>>
>>3699398

>I dropped it beside the unconscious Noble Git. It was his, even if he had purchased it with his dad's money. I wasn't exactly a self-made man myself.
>>
>>3699398
>I dropped it beside the unconscious Noble Git. It was his, even if he had purchased it with his dad's money. I wasn't exactly a self-made man myself.
>>
>>3699398

>I gave it to Daggeraxe. "Welcome to the fucking shitshow," I said with a grin. "You are going to wish you died here today, but at least your family doesn't get executed like this." I felt the glare of the Banded Brotherhood's grandmaster bore into the back of my head.
>>
>>3699398
>>I dropped it beside the unconscious Noble Git. It was his, even if he had purchased it with his dad's money. I wasn't exactly a self-made man myself.
>>
>>3701177
Hold on, editing the vote options
>>
>>3701172

>"Theophilos deserved his own platoon, that's what I've always said," I said with hollow cheer. It was going to be sad to see them go, even Raindrops. He was a senseless git who got not just himself but the rest of us into trouble, but the same could be said for me.
>>
>>3699436
>>3699449
>>3699497
>>3699785
>>3700754
>>I dropped it beside the unconscious Noble Git. It was his, even if he had purchased it with his dad's money. I wasn't exactly a self-made man myself.

However risky the Prefect's little exhibition had been, it had a calming effect on the various mercenaries. It established a pecking order that the soldiers, professional or otherwise, began to follow. Black Company was respected. The other companies like the Marchers and the Rats became amalgamated into the Black Company, as far as the command structure was concerned. No one person ordered this to happen. It was merely the natural way of things. The weak serve. The strong rule.

The voice of the Black Company became the voice of the assorted mercenary companies, large and small. And there were many small ones here, lured by promise of pay while on leave as the ships were being built. The People's Militia was his own ragtag army, and the Banded were too higborn to be ignored, so they got one representative apiece. But other than those, it was the Prefect himself and the Captain.

And me.

"Why me?" I asked, when the Captain delivered me the message herself, Lieutenant on her side. He wasn't as glowering-y ever since I nursed him back to life. In fact, he kind of waved. "I'm just a trooper." I waved back. Captain thought the wave was for her and waved back as well.

"Is this the new salute?" she asked.

"Nah."

"I want to rub it in on the other reps," she said brusquely. Not beating around the bush, eh? "Your continued presence will be a reminder."

"I don't like politics." I really didn't.

"Then you don't like life." Hah. Like a certain somebody who had a suicide pact with a crazy Magal chieftain. "Everything is politics, Aurelius. Did you say something?"

I put on an innocent face. "No, Captain."

"I also see the need to advance certain veterans' careers, now that we're filled with newbies," she said, cupping her hands together. "Our losses were extensive. We're rebuilding, but training them requires good officers with experience. All-newbie platoons are going to only water down the quality of troops. It's a good time for some... reorganisation."
>>
As long as we keep Dumpling and Hood at our platoon (sadly no shamaness since we can't have 2 mages) I think we should not haltbthe progress of our brothers, it's fucking sad but... Well, we will still see each other around camp
>>
>>3701190

"I see. Reorganisation," I said carefully.

"Some platoons will have to be redistributed."

"Some." Why did it sound like all to my ears?

"Some of the Marchers have petitioned to join us, after that melee yesterday. They seemed rather impressed with your skills. It won't be all compete rookies."

"Did you mention to them that I was just a Scrivener? Because I'm just a Scrivener."

"And a corporal," she reminded me. "For now, anyway." Ominous things, for nows. And yets. They did my nerves no good. "Your previous sergeant. Have you seen his last words?"

I shook my head. We'd all written one, Sister, Sergeant, and I, and left them behind with Trevain. They were Just In Cases. For Sergeant, it was that Case. "He wrote glowingly of you. Said you had what it took to be a sergeant." High praise coming from a man who couldn't think of a better position to be than sergeant. I sniffled. Localised condensation formed in my eyes.

Captain gave me a second to dehydrate my visual receptors. "I want you to take on a new platoon."

>"Scriveners don't become officers. It's a thing. NCOs, yes, once in a while, but sergeant and above?" What would the Dark Mother say? Nothing, because she doesn't exist. But Captain was pretty conservative about tradition. And Lieutenant was big on it, too. [Tradition]

>"I'm not even surprised at this point," I said. What she said did make sense, if painful sense. It was going to be sad to see them go, even Raindrops. He was a senseless git who got not just himself but the rest of us into trouble, but the same could be said for me. At least I would keep the family. They were usually linked together per platoon, if the relationship existed before the formation of said platoons.

>"Oh yeah, make a yearling Companyman a sergeant. That sounds bloody brilliant. What's next, Sergeant Sister?" Sarcasm is unbecoming of me, Dumpling says. Well I didn't feel myself with this news. I was half about ready to use that Favour she owed me from back in Magal. [Sarcastic]
>>
>>3701195

>"I'm not even surprised at this point," I said. What she said did make sense, if painful sense. It was going to be sad to see them go, even Raindrops. He was a senseless git who got not just himself but the rest of us into trouble, but the same could be said for me. At least I would keep the family. They were usually linked together per platoon, if the relationship existed before the formation of said platoons.

So, who would we be taking from the old platoon? Hood, Dumpling and Marion or someone else too? Like Sister or Theophilos?
>>
>>3701198
And we would still be Rangers? I kinda feel we are good for scounting with us, a tracker and a mage...and would keep us away from the main meatgrinder
>>
>>3701195

>"Oh yeah, make a yearling Companyman a sergeant. That sounds bloody brilliant. What's next, Sergeant Sister?" Sarcasm is unbecoming of me, Dumpling says. Well I didn't feel myself with this news. I was half about ready to use that Favour she owed me from back in Magal. [Sarcastic]
>>
>>3701195
>"Oh yeah, make a yearling Companyman a sergeant. That sounds bloody brilliant. What's next, Sergeant Sister?" Sarcasm is unbecoming of me, Dumpling says. Well I didn't feel myself with this news. I was half about ready to use that Favour she owed me from back in Magal. [Sarcastic]

I'm little tired of our Captain games
>>
>>3701195
>>"I'm not even surprised at this point," I said. What she said did make sense, if painful sense. It was going to be sad to see them go, even Raindrops. He was a senseless git who got not just himself but the rest of us into trouble, but the same could be said for me. At least I would keep the family. They were usually linked together per platoon, if the relationship existed before the formation of said platoons.
>>
>>3701198
>Sister
Sergeant, Ranger

>Theophilos
Sergeant, Gen. Infantry

>Raindrops
Quartermaster's Little Helpers (oh gods)

>Morion
Staying with Trevain's (prefers Trevain's coolness to Aurelius' hotheaded insanity)

>Dumpling
Your new platoon

>Hood
Your new platoon

>Trevain
Sergeant, Ranger

Lee isn't actually in your platoon, and neither is Yesugei, they were with you on a temporary basis. Have I missed anyone?
>>
>>3701204
ooohhh

Raindrops in the quartermaster department could be very useful for us

It would be unfair to hold back our brothers
>>
>>3701195

>"I'm not even surprised at this point," I said. What she said did make sense, if painful sense. It was going to be sad to see them go, even Raindrops. He was a senseless git who got not just himself but the rest of us into trouble, but the same could be said for me. At least I would keep the family. They were usually linked together per platoon, if the relationship existed before the formation of said platoons.
So, corporal Hood?
>>
>>3701195
>>"I'm not even surprised at this point," I said. What she said did make sense, if painful sense. It was going to be sad to see them go, even Raindrops. He was a senseless git who got not just himself but the rest of us into trouble, but the same could be said for me. At least I would keep the family. They were usually linked together per platoon, if the relationship existed before the formation of said platoons.
>>
>>3701198
>>3701203
>>3701226
>>3701239
>"I'm not even surprised at this point," I said.

What she said did make sense, if painful sense. It was going to be sad to see them go, even Raindrops. He was a senseless git who got not just himself but the rest of us into trouble, but the same could be said for me.

At least I would keep the family. They were usually linked together per platoon, if the relationship existed before the formation of said platoons.

"So glad to know you see it our way, interim-sergeant Aurelius," she said dryly. "Or I say, sergeant. Xavier has finished the paperwork already, which, incidentally also officially added Daggeraxe. Seeing as you were so popular, I've had him prepare a few promising recruits for your perusal. You'll still be Rangers, of course." She flashed me a wolfish smile. "Your tendency to survive has proven useful in the past. I was thinking of sending you to be a stormtrooper, but Lieutenant disagreed. And your tendency to survive has proven useful before."

I shivered. Within all of us is a little monkey that wants to run up to the trees at the first sight of predators. Hers was a smile of the wolves of the northern steppes. "Is this because I didn't surrender?"

"Consider it as a reward. The Company has uses for individuals with initiative." Lieutenant tapped her shoulder and whispered something. "Oh, yes. And congratulations to... two girls and a boy, it seems. Under the circumstances, I think we can wait before your decision on the new recruits."

Lieutenant said, "Congratulations." My vision swam. But they weren't due for another...

"You are a very lucky man, Sergeant Aurelius. That will be all." Captain stood up. "Do not let me detain you."

>I ran out of the Prefect's palace.

>I stole a horse.
>>
>>3701265
>>I stole a horse.
>>
>>3701265

>I fainted
>>
>>3701265
>I ran out of the Prefect's palace.
>>
>>3701265
>>I ran out of the Prefect's palace.
>>
>>3701265

>I stole a horse.

We have to be there
>>
>>3701265
>>3701277
I change to


>I stole a horse.
>>
Rolled 94, 26, 44 = 164 (3d100)

>>
>>3701275
>>3701280
>>3701283
>I stole a horse.

Sinaean horses are, as a rule, small, ill-tempered, bandy-legged, clutter-hooved, fly-brained, and generally poor excuses for the noble Equus domesticus. They were also much faster than a heavily armed man running.

"Hey, who are you?" the stablehand demanded. No doubt it was a rather lofty position. Anyone who could afford horses didn't skimp on their care. Even the miserable Sinaean types were valuable.

"Black Company business," I growled. He stepped back, his eyes adjusting to the light from the opened stable doors, taking in the sight of the man in armour.

"Don't got no warhorses here," he said reproachfully. "They won't run long with full armour like that."

"That's fine." I took a rein from his unresisting hands. They didn't need to run long. Maybe ten minutes. "I'm going to be a father," I added.

"Oh." He didn't really understand. What he understood was that men in those kind of armour and that kind of bloody sword is not one you argue with. He meekly opened the horse's pen. I clambered on with some difficulty. They weren't anything like the Nisaean mounts I was used to.

In another universe, Aurelius opted to run in something of a daze. He had forgotten that heavy armour isn't something you run around with. He would regret the slowness for the rest of his long and miserable life.

They weren't in the platoon tents. Of course! Medicals. I half-ran, half-jogged to the medical tents, falling over crates of weapons and bumping off barrels of food. Most of the camp was emptied, save for perimeter guards. They were busy loading up on the ships. I could hear the wailing of newborn. Newborns.

A million thoughts ran through my mind. Health. Baby. Name. Boy? Girls! Mother. Health. Complications? My sickly mother, who suffered from bearing an Alexandrian's son. Shamaness. Mortality. I was technically only half Alexandrian. It should be fine. Maybe. Hood, not even Ensorcelled. Dumpling would be okay, wouldn't she? Ensorcelled could take what normal humans didn't. Were they too young for this? I was too old to be a father! Where was Honey? Golden eyes.

Censores.

Oh gods, please do not let them have golden eyes. Do not curse them with my curse. Let them be normal. Let them live an undiscriminated life. Do not let the Imperial censors chase the children.

Having kids not sanctioned by Imperial Intelligence. I'd never heard of it happening before, except for myself. Usually, the non-Alexandrian mothers died during childbirth. The enormity of my fooling around that night in Bath dawned then.

My head ached.

>Stupid. Stupid Aurelius. Why did you marry? Why have children? You're a mercenary! They're good as orphaned!

>No. I wanted this. They wanted it, too. It was a mutual decision. To bring out a life, three lives into the world... it's something worth risking for.
>>
>>3701311
>>No. I wanted this. They wanted it, too. It was a mutual decision. To bring out a life, three lives into the world... it's something worth risking for.
>>
>>3701311

>No. I wanted this. They wanted it, too. It was a mutual decision. To bring out a life, three lives into the world... it's something worth risking for.

Come on, let's save them, no issue, come on.
>>
>>3701311

>No. I wanted this. They wanted it, too. It was a mutual decision. To bring out a life, three lives into the world... it's something worth risking for.
>>
>>3701311

>No. I wanted this. They wanted it, too. It was a mutual decision. To bring out a life, three lives into the world... it's something worth risking for.
>>
>>3701311
>No. I wanted this. They wanted it, too. It was a mutual decision. To bring out a life, three lives into the world... it's something worth risking for.
>>
>>3701312
>>3701315
>>3701316
>>3701320
>>3701321
>>No. I wanted this. They wanted it, too. It was a mutual decision. To bring out a life, three lives into the world... it's something worth risking for.
>[Decisive]

I straightened my back, steadied my breath. I was in front of the medical tent. What remained was to see. I opened the tent flaps and entered.

"Aurelius!" Senior scrivener Xavier crowed happily. Relief electrocuted my insides, making my stomach do funny things. "It was touch-and-go for a while. I'd never delivered three at once. You should pace yourself next time."

"Are they safe?" I asked. Hood looked like death, pale and slick with sweat. Dumpling was alive but she was too exhausted to do anything more than wave. Shamaness was in a deep sleep.

"Safe, safe," Xavier doddered around. "Good time for Lee to learn delivering techniques. The Ensorcelled, as you know, don't die easy. And Hood is a very strong girl." He nodded approvingly. "She'll come around after a bit of rest. Lee! Where is the bowl of hot water?"

"You are in it," a chipper voice announced, preceding the man. I turned to look at the entrance. He looked and dressed like Black Company. I didn't recall his face. He had golden eyes. "Get it? You're in hot water?" He laughed good-naturedly.

"I haven't seen you before," Xavier frowned.

The man looked disappointed that no one else joined his mirth. "I was hoping I'd arrive before the father did. Your guards are very capable, I'll give you that. I wasn't expecting two of us to get killed. But one is enough for an old man and the new father. Congratulations, by the way!" he said brightly. "Didn't expect all three to survive. That's a record, mother and infant both. Maybe there's something to you, after all."

My eyes flicked to the infants. Golden eyes.

"Don't worry, they'll be well cared for." He looked around disparagingly. "Not in here, though. Disgusting place, southern Sinae. And you're going to Wae, yes? Far too risky. They've got all those gods and zealots in there. I hear they like to practice soulbinding. Terrible people, the Waelanders. Why not leave the infants with us without struggle? After all," he smiled, "the Capital is where they belong."

Xavier sniffed. There was a smell of blood, and it wasn't from the three mothers. "Who are these...?"

>"I'm not Alexandrian anymore. I'm with the Black Company."

>"Xavier, take the babies and run."
>>
>>3701330

>"Xavier, take the babies and run."

Kill the fucker
>>
>>3701330
>>"I'm not Alexandrian anymore. I'm with the Black Company."
>>
>>3701330

>"I'm not Alexandrian anymore. I'm with the Black Company."
>>
>>3701330

>"I'm not Alexandrian anymore. I'm with the Black Company."

He's bluffing there may be more around
Tell Xavier to sound the alarm

Damn, we were one horse away from losing EVERYONE
>>
>>3701330
>"I'm not Alexandrian anymore. I'm with the Black Company."

I hope Xavier already filled out the books or will do it while occupied the censor. As long as kids are in the books they should be safe.

Also most likely he was lying there is more of them
>>
Just imagine if we were in the capital when the kids were born
>>
>>3701339
>>3701340
>>3701343
>>3701351
>"I'm not Alexandrian anymore. I'm with the Black Company."

"Yes, by the Holy Writ of the Emperor and all that," he smiled pleasantly. "The thing is, our charter is written by the old man as well. I believe it goes something like this -" he clasped his hands together like a reciting schoolboy "- We can do what we want. Elegance in simplicity."

"The Company has long been in the service of Imperial interests." I let my right hand hang loosely. I was trying to unbuckle my buckler with my left.

"Until it doesn't. Rebel activity increase in and around the city of Bath since spring this year. Sound familiar?"

Xavier harrumphed. "Our record of service is open for audit. You can see for yourself."

"I'm not interested in your service records. Just hand the babies over, and you can go on doing what you want. For now."

>Fatherhood was inspiring me to new heights of suicidal intentions. "No."

>"I won't let you take all three," I said, feeling bile rise from my throat. "...one. One baby. And a promise you won't come back."
>>
>>3701364

>Fatherhood was inspiring me to new heights of suicidal intentions. "No."
>>
>>3701364
>>Fatherhood was inspiring me to new heights of suicidal intentions. "No."
>>
>>3701364
>>Fatherhood was inspiring me to new heights of suicidal intentions. "No."
>>
>>3701368
>>3701369
>>3701371
>>Fatherhood was inspiring me to new heights of suicidal intentions. "No."

"Alas, we are at an impasse." He stretched his hands placatingly. "And when negotiations break down..." One moment he was empty-handed, then fully armed the next. Neat trick if you could learn it. I doubted I could. "You remember of course, corporal... "Aurelius", that we venators are the fist of the censors. Quite brutal ones, if I may say so myself. We do what we want over the other Alexandrians, because we can."

Not knowing what else to say, I went with the classic. "Fuck off."

"It gives me great sadness to see the loss of valuable genetic material like yourself. Believe me, I shall be thoroughly chastised once I return to the citadel."

Xavier sighed and grabbed his sword. "Well, you're not getting the children without going through me. You're not even the next-of-kin, and I can't let newborns get abducted from MY tent."

"That's probably not a good idea," the venator said happily. For once, I agreed.

"Son, I joined up in the Company. We're all mad here."

Sergeant-Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy
Senior Scrivener Xavier, Looking Forward to Retirement: Old

>Combat = +90DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Parthian plate +15DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Cavalryman's helm +6DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC, Xavier +14DC]
>Armour Value = 55AV [Parthian plate +40AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Cavalryman's helm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)

VS

Venator: Battered

>Combat = 81DC [Battered +0DC, Elite (Venatores) +25DC, Ensorcelled Soul +10DC, Trained from Birth +10DC, Abnormal Strength +2DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Anomalous) +15DC, Chainmail shirt +5DC, Steel sword +10DC, Parrying dagger +2DC]
>Armour Value = 15AV [Chainmail shirt +10AV, Parrying dagger +5AV]
>Special = Parrying dagger (Swordbreaker - DC33 to disarm)

Personal Combat DC59
>3d100
>>
Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>3701388
let's get a desperately trying to save kids bonus
>>
Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>3701388
>>
Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>3701388
.
>>
Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>
Lets reroll one of those guys
>>
Rolled 14 (1d100)

Rolling Enemy special
Give me 2 AV rolls
>>
>>3701404
Yeah you can reroll if you want
>>
Rolled 82 (1d100)

>>
Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>3701406
>>
Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>3701406
>>
So we lost the sword too, or the old man did, do we fight with crossbow and dagger then?
>>
Rolled 49 (1d100)

Rolling for enemy Divine Health

>>3701417
Old man
>>
We should make the most noise we can, he can't have killed everyone so we need to buy enough time for the cavalry to arrive
>>
>>3701396
>>3701397
>>3701414
>>3701419
>1 Success
>Enemy AV Success
>1 Damage dealt, 1 Damage received (Xavier)
>Xavier disarmed!

"Oh dear, oh dear," Xavier mumbled. He was bleeding. And he was old already. "Been too long since I've fought, eh? Too long." His sword was somewhere under one of the patient beds.

"The old man doesn't look very well. Why not treat him?" the venator suggested. "You are, after all, a scrivener."

"Don't worry about me, Aurelius!" Xavier said. "I can deal with the wound myself."

"I also happen to be a father to three newborns."

"Fair enough, fair enough!" He was unfazed by the trickle of blood from his side. It was a slightly yellow silver. "Once more into the breach, then! Let us see to the end of our brief-"

"Oh, shut up," I snarled.

Sergeant-Scrivener Aurelius: Healthy

>Combat = +76DC [Healthy +5DC, Veteran +5DC, Skilled II +4DC, Elite (Legionarius) +10DC, Dirty Fighting +3DC, Unnatural Strength +1DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Major) +10DC, Parthian plate +15DC, Iron buckler +5DC, Cavalryman's helm +6DC, Gladius hispaniensis +10DC]
>Armour Value = 55AV [Parthian plate +40AV, Iron buckler +5AV, Cavalryman's helm +10AV]
>Special = Gladius hispaniensis (+1 Reroll per battle) (2 Success = Bleed), Divine Constitution (+1 Wound regeneration on DC33)

VS

Venator: Injured

>Combat = 76DC [Injured -5DC, Elite (Venatores) +25DC, Ensorcelled Soul +10DC, Trained from Birth +10DC, Abnormal Strength +2DC, Unnatural Endurance +1DC, Unnatural Will +1DC, Divine Bloodline: Imperial Scion (Anomalous) +15DC, Chainmail shirt +5DC, Steel sword +10DC, Parrying dagger +2DC]
>Armour Value = 15AV [Chainmail shirt +10AV, Parrying dagger +5AV]
>Special = Parrying dagger (Swordbreaker - DC33 to disarm)

Personal Combat DC50
>3d100
>>
>>3701397
>>3701396
>>3701393

Do a reroll!
>>
Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>3701425
>>
Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>3701425
>>
Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>3701425
>>
Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>3701425
>>
>>3701427
I did
>>
Rolled 58 (1d100)

Enemy AV
>>
Rolled 53 (1d100)

Enemy DH
>>
We should make a huge dedicatory entry in the anals to the brothers that died killing the other censors, without them we wouldn't have a chance
>>
Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>3701425
>>
>>3701429
>>3701430
>>3701431

"Such determination," he said, admiring. "We could use your stock for our order. You know you don't belong among these people, "Aurelius". Come back to the Capital. You'll be safe, trust me. We oversee the security, after all."

That sing-song voice grated my ears. He was trying to goad me, unbalance me. The legionary in me stayed silent.

Seeing that I wasn't responding to the bait, he jumped forward with the grace of a rat scrabbling to a dish of milk. I met his forward lunge, bashed his right hand with my buckler, stabbed deep into his stomach. Skill and experience made me reflexively meet his attack. Luck ensured that the counterattack was a gut wound. Metal-silver ichor sluggishly started coating the blade and the wound. I pulled off with a backstep.

"Oooh..." he said. The smile was still there, frozen on his face. "That hurt. That really hurt." He looked up. "Congratulations, trueborn. I envy you. So much effort, for your spawn. And you don't even want the blood, do you?" There was a flash of hatred, quickly replaced by a pleasant mask. "There will be others."

Then he died. I half expected something mad, like coming back to life, or the silver congealing ichor to form a chokehold on me. But he was dead.

I cut off his head, just in case, and then slid to the floor to Xavier. "Just a scratch," he said scoldingly. "Ow!"

"He came through the guards," I said grimly while I cleaned the "scratch". "Who was on duty?"

"Redhair's group." Xavier winced. I didn't know them. But they'd done a good job. I wasn't sure if I could have defended against three of those, unawares. I stitched another needle.

"Is it over?" he asked.

"For now. Venators travel in groups of three."

"Oh dear. This isn't good." That was an understatement. "Three against ten. Are these, you know, Intelligence?"

"Their scalp-hunters."

"...Aurelius, you know what this means," he said stiffly. "We can't have individuals causing trouble to the whole Company. Especially with their background."
>>
>>3701506

There was a sinking sensation in my gut. I knew. "I didn't realise they would come chasing," I said.

I theorised. I suspected. But I didn't realise. One lone Alexandrian wandering around was a tempting target. Three newborn with fully golden eyes despite being only quarter-blooded was a blazing bonfire. And now, ten brothers lay outside, no doubt dead. Venators were nothing if not fastidious. They went for the extra snap of the neck, the nipping of their throats.

My ancestry. It is a curse. Others envy it, not knowing the true cost of bearing His blood. The censors experiment with matings and bloodlines, trying again and again to recreate the Emperor's full divinity. And for some reason, the Emperor had allowed it. Maybe it amused Him to see them try for thousands of years and bear no fruit. The Emperor was dead now, or good as dead. That had really driven the censors to new heights of matchmaking.

Like prize horses to be bred.

I thought about my new command. Sergeant Aurelius. Despite my footman's instinctive dislike for being an officer, I would have given so much to stay with the Black Company. But it was not to be. Ten men had died without knowing why from strange assailants because of me.

>"I'll leave with the babies now. The censors won't care about the girls." I could not subject them to a life of being chased by censors. It was cruel to deprive them of their children so soon. It was also the only choice.

>"Four days. We'd have landed by then, and I'll disappear with the children in Wae. You will never hear from me again." They wouldn't have another venator pack on standby. Not inside the Prefect's ship. Surely I had that much time.
>>
>>3701514
>>"Four days. We'd have landed by then, and I'll disappear with the children in Wae. You will never hear from me again." They wouldn't have another venator pack on standby. Not inside the Prefect's ship. Surely I had that much time.

we are not leaving the mothers and honey behind
>>
>>3701514
"Four days. We'd have landed by then, and I'll disappear with the children in Wae. You will never hear from me again." They wouldn't have another venator pack on standby. Not inside the Prefect's ship. Surely I had that much time
>>
>>3701514
>>"Four days. We'd have landed by then, and I'll disappear with the children in Wae. You will never hear from me again." They wouldn't have another venator pack on standby. Not inside the Prefect's ship. Surely I had that much time.
>>
>>3701514

>"Four days. We'd have landed by then, and I'll disappear with the children in Wae. You will never hear from me again." They wouldn't have another venator pack on standby. Not inside the Prefect's ship. Surely I had that much time

Aaaaa why this is happening?

We need to go to Wae, there's no safe place this side of the ocean for us, a man with 3 children will be recognized anywhere and we don't have the means to take care of them.
In Wae we may have a chance since the venators would attrack too much attention
NOW is time to cash in that favor with the captain to help us defend our family until we can disappear.

The first step is to hide ourselves and the babies right now and let everyone think we really ran away, this will buy us more time while the venators follow the false lead
>>
>>3701543
Need to make contact lens and hid the eyes
>>
>>3701549
Until then we can rely on Dumps glamour to hide just the eyes when we are in public, it will be hard on her.
>>
>>3701514
>"Four days. We'd have landed by then, and I'll disappear with the children in Wae. You will never hear from me again." They wouldn't have another venator pack on standby. Not inside the Prefect's ship. Surely I had that much time.
They'll know about the kids eventually. We'll need to take them with us.
>>
>>3701514

>"Four days. We'd have landed by then, and I'll disappear with the children in Wae. You will never hear from me again." They wouldn't have another venator pack on standby. Not inside the Prefect's ship. Surely I had that much time.
>>
>>3701520
>>3701530
>>3701533
>>3701543
>>3701710
>>3701658
>"Four days. We'd have landed by then, and I'll disappear with the children in Wae. You will never hear from me again." They wouldn't have another venator pack on standby. Not inside the Prefect's ship. Surely I had that much time.

He stared. Conflict raged in the man of letters and medicine. He knew the rules better than anyone, one of which was the "two feet first" rule. But there is an unspoken rule in the Black Company, never invoked out loud lest it shatter every other.

And that is this: "Bend The Rules, Occasionally"

Sometimes followed by - "...you Tosser"

Senior Scrivener Xavier came to a conclusion. "Four days. And we will need to talk to the Captain about... this," he waved at the dead man. Now that he was dead, he was aging with disgusting acceleration. Most of him was already dust. Alexandrians didn't do that when we- they died.

We stared at the thing that used to be a venator for a long second.

"You may as well help clean up the blood, Scrivener Aurelius," Xavier said at last. "And dress the bodies. For a burial at sea."

I gave him a tired salute. "Yes, Senior Scrivener."

After that was finished, I cleaned my hands and took out my scrivening implements. There were always a few Books here, by the table. The Annals consisted of hundreds of Books. This was one of the Books of Induction. Xavier had been writing in new recruits. I saw the name Daggeraxe in one of the lines.

I sat, taking care not to make a sound. The three most important women in my life were sleeping off their fatigue. They must truly be exhausted if they didn't wake up from that fight, I thought. I closed the Book of Induction and opened another, altogether more sombre Book to a new page. Someone had used the Book of Deaths to pressure-press a worn out leaf. I scratched off the disrespectful article from the page.

Taking out a fresh quill and dappling it with old ink, I began writing:

KIA - Sergeant Redhair ... KIA - Corporal Littlefoot ... KIA - Trooper Cent ...

...

MIA - Sergeant A—
>>
>>3701745
---

The little girl with golden hair carefully placed a brilliantly red leaf on the last page of a book. This leaf one was chosen for her by her caretaker, who recently crowned himself with that chiefest of positions - daddy. It was from that day when Mom-Hood kissed A-relly in public, and it had wilted a little. But the colour was as fiery as the night he picked it up for her.

She flattened it against the opened book's page. And then she closed it. This is going to make a pretty gift for A-relly! she thought. Then she also thought: I hope my new siblings are cute.

Her earnest eyes were auburn, but sometimes, when she was extra focused, that auburn glowed with a certain, not quite definite (which is to say, indefinite) shade of gold. It was the kind of colour one might think of when one thought of concentrated gold after they were molten down. Or honey. Extremely dense honey fossilised by Time and pressured together by Gravity into two small, dark, auburn points. One had to look very carefully, and for very long, to notice this. So far, no one in the world had.

Her eyes were shining now as she hummed tunelessly, elbows on the book for that extra pressure. Her legs drummed idly against the floor, making regular small thumps. She wondered if it would come out perfect this time. They kept ripping or when she pulled them out from the improvised press. Maybe she had to wait a little longer. Waiting was something she was very good at. She had, after all, spent all this time waiting for A-relly to make up his mind about what he was to her.

Yes, a little more waiting wouldn't hurt. And if it never came out perfect - well, she would have to try it again, wouldn't she?

~ FIN ~

I'm taking a break
>>
>>3701753
Splendid Qm, thank you very much for running

I imagine we will continue some other day after your break?
>>
>>3701799
In due course - at the appropriate juncture, in the fullness of time. Making a connection between Wae and end of the Forest Arc was the intent for the in-between ramble here, by which I mean everything that happened in Reed. Also a bit of a downtime with the traditional shopping and the like.

It's not all doom and gloom for Aurelius, however. Not everyone is bullied so easily by the merest whiff of Imperial Intelligence interest. Was this thread alright? I feel as though I am always grasping at the brilliance of the first thread and never quite attaining it.
>>
>>3701857

It's really good.
>>
>>3701753
So Honey's a Alexandrian as well?
>>
>>3701857
To be honest, I grew to like it more and more and not less as the threads go on, and I feel the story has progressed really nice and the characters too, the humor is still there and now you manage to pull some very tense and sad moments along with it.

I appreciated the down rime on Reed a lot, we were usually running so it was nice to go back to the calmness like it was before the forest happened

I'm very interest to see cap's reaction to this and specially our wives reaction, poor Hood almost kicked it giving birth, I think Aurelius needs to stop having kids for now, and Honey as always, the sweetest melancholic girl ever.

Can't wait for the future and dealing with our platoon(if we stay of course)

Could you spoil me about what would happen if we ran here instead taken a horse or if we ran with the kids instead of trying to go to Wae, would the wives hunt us down?
>>
>>3701886
Dead wives (no suffering, just a nick in the throat), dead Xavier (a little bit of suffering, but quick end), and babies in the Capital. Basically imagine what happened in the meditent without Aurelius to intercept.

>>3701883
Nahhhhhh
>>
>>3701753
thank you for running this was really nice, it has come to be one of my favorite quests

>>3701753
>>3701883
if Honey is alexandrian that meand Hood is the only one in the family that will grow old and die at a normal rate

we can't have that, she has to stay with the family
>>
>>3701874
If only I could think so myself

As always, can find the rest of the threads here

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Aurelius
>>
>>3701903
What are you prepared to sacrifice for Hood longevity?
>>
>>3701910
a lot
short from the lives of the family pretty much everything kek
>>
>>3701904

You being to harsh. This is excellent thread.
>>
>>3701899
I imagine that if we used that sword to get to the capital we would not have much of a chance of keeping the kids right?

>>3701920
This anon is right, it was excellent
>>
Which wife had which kid? And all with golden eyes? Exciting times.
>>
>>3701930
You know, the funny thing about the Capital is that it's chock full of factions, even within the censores. I wouldn't just yoink babies from you for the fun of it.

>>3701920
Thank you!

I kind of rushed with the kids thing because I looked at the calendar and realised they should be born about now, and I did NOT want a middle-of-the-sea-birthing-scenario because that is all kinds of complicated. Hard to get hot water, for example. Also, I want the mothers back in action.

Now to plan out the completely safe ocean cruise with the fleet of fifty flat-bottomed ships and one venerable ship of considerable age.
>>
>>3701940
Shamaness had the son, the other two girls are from Dumpling and Hood each. I was very prepared to have some wives and babies die today, but that didn't happen.

So, brainstorming time. Names for the kids? There were some good suggestions back in the third thread from an anon:

>for Hood, Delius, greek name
>for Shamaness , Tuya, mongol name, ray of light
>for Dumpling , Rafa, arabic like hers, a tenderhearted girl
>they can choose their black company names after they join, if they join
>just an idea
>>
>>3701949
I proposed those but Tuya is a girl's name and Delius a boys name so we can't use those two anymore

we'll just have to find a mongol boy name and a greek female name
>>
>>3701949
>Shamaness’s Boy
Altan? Ganz?
>Hood’s Girl
Selene, Phoebe, Ianthe, Rhea?
>Dumpling’s Girl
I like Rafa
>>
Why do I get the feeling alternate universe punished Aurelius goes full rebel.
>>
>>3701949

for hood I like Rhea, strong name for our hunter girl
for shamaness Oktai
and we can keep Rafa for dumpling's

reminder that we still need to learn Hood's original name
>>
question

>>3701299
this roll was for the guards? the censors? or Xavier's skill in delivering the kids?
>>
>>3702453
another question

> He nodded approvingly. "She'll come around after a bit of rest. Lee! Where is the bowl of hot water?"

>"You are in it," a chipper voice announced, preceding the man. I turned to look at the entrance. He looked and dressed like Black Company. I didn't recall his face. He had golden eyes. "Get it? You're in hot water?" He laughed good-naturedly.

did Lee die too? did the censor got him?
>>
>>3702453
Guards, the 44 is what got the last venator to be Battered

>>3702514
Oh yeah, Lee's dead, jim. He's not a censor, he's a venator.

Venatores are the hunter-killers. Scalpers. Killers. The Hammers, so to speak.
Exploratores are scouts. They scout out the location, they find the background of persons of interest before the operation (with frumentarii support if necessary), they research and prepare the ground for field agents.
Frumentarii are socialites and womanisers (and manisers) and like to stay undercover instead of going pew pew. Prefers poisoning and subterfuge to direct combat.
The censores are HQ, and at the top is the proquaestor censorum who answers only to the Emperor. And the Emperor is dead.
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>>3703747
Noooooo not Lee! Poor kid.
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>>3701857
Awesome stuff qm, thanks for running

>>3701910
We should feed her our gilden bloid every morning to improve her health!
>>
New thread soon
>>
>>3704420
HYPE
>>
Here we go >>3704451



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