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Chapter 11
“So soldier, would wine do you good today? I know you’re not here for the ale” The barmaid asks. “Oh no thank you, water would be fine.” I reply. She gives me a puzzled look and then says “There’s probably some boiled water that has cooled down. I’ll go fetch you some.” Before she leaves she gives me a small wink and walks towards the kitchen. I try to guess why she gave me a puzzled look till I remembered that inside any Remanian city; water is as filthy as a pig’s ass. In the battlefield clean water was easier to get by because we always left some buckets out for the rains. Here in the city people would rather drink ale and rum to avoid whatever diseases had cooked up in the water. Of course folks around would boil water but boiling hot water isn’t something you’d be drinking instantly. The barmaid arrived in a few minutes carrying a mug of
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I wake up to the sting of cold water and the site of Varkii standing beside my bed with a bucket in his hand. Varkii, realizing I’m still half asleep pours another bucket of cold water at me. “What was that for!?” I yell at him as I get off the bed. “Get up strap on your armor, we don’t have time” This was the first time I had seen the whole Iasi camp under duress. Hundreds of soldiers were running around in full battle gear, I could hear the Centurion’s whistling along with the confusion of the many soldiers who had just woken up from their hangovers. “Varkii, what’s going on?” I ask him while I step off my bed desperately bearing through the pain in my leg while I search for my sword under a pile of bottles and pig bones. “There’
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“Providence’s Mercy Lurti, my burned leg is killing me.” “Calm down Molag, just put on that Crimson Arrow oil when we can sit down and it’ll be good as new. Oh yes, hide that thing, it’s worth two bags of gold remember?.” Lurti and I had been following Centurion Trosdig for at least 3 minutes now; I didn’t realize how busy the camp was till I reached the camp’s main road. Dozens of riders and knights were frantically trying to clear the way for their horses while Engineers were pushing all manner of artillery into positions. The Grand Guns, sitting on their Coal Engines were already being positioned for mobilization; the sound of their hissing engines was something I would never get tired of. But the one thing that we Legionnaires would always leave us in awe was the sight of a Towergunner. The familiar roar of Remas’s fabled bipedal war machine could be heard echoing all
How it Ends Chapter 14
After what seemed like an entire day of formation planning, battle strategies and logistical drivel we were finally dismissed and allowed to leave. By the time we left the tent, all the Towergunners had left their bays and were positioned at the roads leaving camp. The hissing noise their engines made was grating to the ear, but was something everyone got used to. At the camp’s main road other companies were marching off to wherever they were being sent off to. I could see some of their faces; they all had the looks of frustration on them. The same look that even I and the officers of the 3rd
How it Ends Chapter 15
The perimeter we formed was basically still the Hammer formation but with us surrounding the Towergunners and the Captain. Lurti and Trosdig were then called off to an officer’s meeting; ironically now that I wasn’t a scribe I had felt rather envious of my replacement Leris. All these events, the expression on the Captain’s face, it all felt rather intriguing. Why was the General ordering us to arrest Lord Rubin Gavlin? And why did it need roughly 600 soldiers and 3 of Da Vinci’s war machines to arrest him? I ask Varkii and the rest in my squad and they felt the same. “When this is all over, I want to have a long chat with the Captain” Varkii says rather angrily. One of the older soldiers in the squad Joram puts his hand on Varkii’s shoulder and calms his down. Joram was a rather quiet soldier and also one of the oldest. He was bald but his eyebrows were white giving us an idea of what his age was, h
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Emerging from a group of bushes, emerge twenty men, all of them armed and all looking rather filthy. Their tunics were caked in black stains while various insects were crawling around the bird shite that covered their cloaks. The only thing that looked clean in their outfits was a single large lavender strap tied to their elbows. “Identify yourselves strangers!” Varkii shouts at them. One of them raises his axe and points it at us and shouts “I’ll ask the same of you Remanian pig!” the stranger replies. “They’re Barbarian mercenaries” Pal’lacon murmured. We had faced down some of their kind before, many Barbarians mercenaries or sellswords as we called them were used to bolster Persian ranks during the war. I hear Pal’Lacon muttering some old Latin curses, but then h
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So I do the only thing I can possibly do at this moment, end his suffering; I draw my carbine and shoot the dying boy’s head, which is soon followed by a kick to the face from the knight in front of me. … “The only son of Caesar that has the right to be a successor is the son that has served as a Knight of Remas.” It was something that was taught in every school house. A Knight was a hero, he was what every young boy aspired to become. But these knights that were standing in front of me weren’t real knights; they weren’t the war heroes that every soldier cheered for whenever they rode into battle. These were the arrogant scum that everyone secretly or som
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“This was your first battle wasn’t it?” she asked as she pulled out the 3 inch long piece of shrapnel lodged to my right leg. I grunt in pain of course. “Yes” I reply while trying to hold in the pain. She laughs a bit and applies a concoction of herbs and plant jelly on the wound. “So, what was it like?” She asks. The moment those words enter my ears, I vividly remember the events that had transpired that day, the smell of Lurti’s vomit, Trosdig’s whistle, the heat wave that accompanies every cannon shot and finally the feeling of a sword going through the insides of another man. “You’re about to vomit aren’t you?” she asks me. “What?” I reply, slowly realizing the anxiety and fear beginning to crawl its way out of my mouth in the form of the oats and fish I had earlier this morning. “
How it Ends Chapter 19
“You think it’s odd how the whole camp is not worried after those attacks?” Pal’lacon asks me as we lazily look at the storm slowly filling up the valley with water. “A few angry unpaid mercenary barbarians turned bandits are not things to be worried about, I bet the others are more worried about missing Mistress Raletia’s dance show back in Iasi. After all, we did survive the Persians.” I reply. Pal’lacon nods his head and lights up his pipe again. “That’s not what worries me, I just don’t want to watch another bleeding farm boy get shot in the head” “You weren’t the one who shot him, old man” I reply while throwing stones at the mud. “I’m sorry Molag, I understand you’ve never done that---” “Done what? I’ve killed dozens if not hundreds before I killed that boy. What’s another nameless person on my list?” I find myself rather surprised at the outburst. “Sorry, it’s just
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