Arran faced the rcenary captain cautiously.
They had removed their shirts for the match — and the captain his hat — and without the gaudy outfit, Arran’s opponent suddenly appeared a lot more like the rcenary captain he was supposed to be.
Broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, the man’s body bore nurous battle scars, and he moved with the easy confidence of an expert fighter. Had it not been for his neatly trimd beard and carefully coiffed hair, Arran could almost have mistaken him for an entirely different man.
But Arran was no common fighter, either. Even while concealing most of his strength, he was still more than a match for most Body Refiners. And if his skill in unard combat was limited, he had plenty of strength and speed to compensate for that.
For so monts, the two fighters rely circled each other, each studying the other’s movents to get an idea of what they were up against.
After all, the differences between Body Refiners were large. Where so would struggle against even a handful of commoners, others had the power to singlehandedly defeat entire armies.
The rcenary captain was the first to attack. Moving so fast it was only barely visible, he struck a series of blows at Arran’s face and body, each of the attacks carrying the power of a charging bull.
Powerful though the blows might be, against Arran, they accomplished little. The rcenary captain realized his mistake almost instantly, but it was already too late — even as the man moved to retreat, Arran’s fist smashed into his midriff, sending him staggering backward.
Yet the captain remained on his feet, and as the two fighters moved back into position, both their faces held a hint of confusion.
If the rcenary was surprised that Arran had withstood his blows so easily, Arran was equally surprised to find his opponent still standing. Although he restrained his strength, his attack had been powerful enough to easily defeat even a strong adept.
They began to circle each other once more, with so jeers sounding from the crowd that had ford around them.
"He got you good, captain!" one of the rcenaries shouted, seeming amused at seeing his captain knocked back so easily.
Captain Kalesh did not respond, silently eying Arran as they faced each other. Yet his expression wasn’t one of frustration or annoyance. Rather, it was a look of interest, with just a hint of amusent.
Again the rcenary attacked, moving even faster than before. And this ti, the blows he struck were more powerful. While nowhere near strong enough to injure Arran, they easily held the force to kill commoners outright.
But again, Arran simply weathered the storm of blows, then responded with a single strike that sent the captain staggering backward.
This ti, a puzzled frown crossed Arran’s face when he saw that the rcenary still remained on his feet. He’d put a decent amount of power into the punch — enough to smash through a rock wall.
And yet, his opponent was clearly uninjured.
More exchanges followed, and each ti, both Arran and his opponent used a little more of their strength, but to no avail. While Arran’s power and toughness were superior to his opponent’s, he could tell that the other man was faster and more skilled in unard combat.
Arran understood that the rcenary was no common Body Refiner, and it wasn’t long before he began to feel so worry that he was showing too much of his power.
But then, with Arran on the verge of conceding the fight, the other man stepped back after having received another of Arran’s powerful punches.
"The fight is yours!" the rcenary captain said, wincing in pain as he clutched his chest.
Arran looked at the man with a raised eyebrow. That his opponent had thrown the fight was obvious, and the man’s theatrics did little to hide that fact.
The captain let out a deep sigh. "It’s no use," he said, casting a dejected look at the crowd of rcenaries that had ford around them. "Against the power of youth, my old body is no match. I have only my wits to protect ."
"Sounds like you’re screwed, then!" one of the rcenaries yelled in response, drawing jeers and laughs from the others.
Captain Kalesh ignored the mockery. Instead, he turned back to Arran, and said, "Let’s take a walk. I owe you so gold, and for your efforts, I’ll add sothing more."
"Sothing more?" Arran gave the man a curious look.
"Information," the rcenary said, his expression suddenly serious. "About your future in the Darian Imperium."
"Is that so," Arran replied, trying not to sound too eager. "Then I’ll join you for a walk."
He cared little for gold, but information was a different matter. That was more valuable than any treasure.
A few minutes later found them at the edge of the camp, the rcenary captain once more wearing his garish outfit and feather-topped hat.
"Co," he said. "Let’s move out of the camp for a bit, where there are fewer listening ears."
"Out of the camp?" Arran cast a wary look at the guards in the distance. "Is that allowed?"
"It’s not," the man replied flatly. "But the guards and I have an understanding. As long as they don’t bother , my n don’t cause trouble for them."
Indeed, as Arran looked at the guards, he saw that they made a conspicuous effort not to notice the pair of Body Refiners who’d passed the camp’s boundary. For all the captain’s bluster, it seed there was so truth to his words.
"So what is it you wanted to tell ?" Arran understood that there was more to the man than t the eye, and now, he found himself wondering what information he had.
"To start," the rcenary began, "a week from now, a big group of nobles, priests, and rchants will arrive in this camp. When they do, you will be told that you have to earn your citizenship. A year or two of working in the mines, and you’ll be a citizen."
Arran nodded. "I’ve heard sothing along those lines."
"You have?" The rcenary briefly looked surprised, but then, he gave Arran an appreciative smile. "I suppose I should have expected that. But there is sothing you likely haven’t heard — that it’s a lie."
"A lie?" A frown crossed Arran’s face as he looked the rcenary in the eyes. "How so?"
The man responded by gesturing at the camp. "Right now, we’re under the care of the Imperial bureaucracy. And although the Imperium loves its rules entirely too much, it’s nothing if not fair."
A wry smile crossed his face, and he continued, "But the nobles are a different matter. And it’s them we’ll be working for to beco Darians. Especially for us Body Refiners, that poses a problem."
"The nobles?" Arran furrowed his brow. "We won’t be working for the Imperium?"
Captain Kalesh shook his head. "We’ll be given the choice of which noble house to follow, but after that, they will be the ones who decide when we’ve done enough to earn our citizenship. And while they can be generous to commoners, few of them will easily give up more gifted workers."
At this, an ugly expression appeared on Arran’s face. "You an they won’t give us our citizenship? To keep us working for them?"
"Exactly," the captain replied. "And even if you do win your freedom, they’ll bind you with oaths so tight you might as well be a slave."
The news was unwelco, and Arran could not help but wonder whether it was true — and, if so, how the man had learned so much about the Imperium.
Supposedly, the Imperium’s secrets were well-kept, with the Ninth Valley having learned little about it despite centuries of war. Yet sohow, it seed this rcenary captain had achieved what the Ninth Valley could not.
"How do you know all this?" Arran asked.
The rcenary gave Arran a broad grin. "Unlike you, I did not co here unprepared," he said.
His expression suggested he would reveal no more than that, and for so monts, Arran looked at the camp, several hundreds of paces from where they stood. If the rcenary was correct, then it was little more than a trap — and one he’d already entered.
He had a way out, of course, in the form of the Knight’s ring. But he couldn’t fully trust that, either. The truth was that he still knew too little about the Imperium to predict the consequences of his decisions.
With so hesitation, he turned his eyes back to the rcenary.
"If one received the favor of a Knight," he asked in a cautious tone, "would that help in gaining one’s freedom?"
Captain Kalesh smirked in response. "Only if you wish to exchange one set of chains for another. Above each Knight, you will find a Lord or Lady. And accepting a Knight’s favor will put you in debt with their master."
"So what do you have to offer?" Arran asked.
He did not believe for a mont that the rcenary captain had shared the information solely out of the goodness of his heart. Rather, he was working up to sothing — an offer.
"Not one for subtlety, are you?" The man looked at Arran in amusent. "Very well. I did not co here to flee the war. Rather, I ca here to learn the Darians’ thods. Which I suspect is the reason you ca here, as well."
"Perhaps," Arran replied. "But even if that were true, how could you help with that?"
"I have connections," Kalesh replied. "Ones that will help and my n earn our citizenship in months, rather than years. And once we do, we will travel to the far end of the Imperium, to win the status and wealth we need to gain the secrets we desire. Without any oaths or masters to hold us back."
The rcenary paused briefly as he gave Arran a calculating look. Then, in a sly tone, he continued, "If you wish, I would invite you to join us."
A frown crossed Arran’s face. "What do you have to gain from helping ?"
"Your strength," the man replied instantly. "Since arriving here, I’ve found only a handful of worthy recruits, and none of them were even half as strong as you. If you join the Wolfsblood Company, you will be free to leave when you wish, but until you do, your sword is mine to command."
Arran considered the offer for so monts. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I’ll accept your offer," he said. "For now."
Trusting the rcenary captain was a risk, but then, so was trying to forge his own path. And although he was reluctant to rely on the help of a stranger, he was painfully aware of just how little he knew about the Imperium.
"Wonderful!" the rcenary said, flashing Arran a bright smile. "Our company grows stronger by the day. But we should return to the camp — the guards are beginning to look worried."
With a glance at the camp, Arran saw that the captain was right. Several of the guards were now looking at them with troubled faces, seemingly unsure of how to handle the blatant disregard for their rules.
"But I almost forgot," Kaleesh suddenly said. "I still owe you your winnings!" He reached into his coat and produced a handful of gold, which he carelessly handed to Arran. "Though you should know that in the Imperium, gold is only barely more valuable than copper."
"It is?" Arran looked at the large handful of gold he’d been handed so casually. It was enough to represent a fortune in the Empire. "Then what do they use?"
"Shadowtal," the man replied. He reached into his coat and took out a small coin, then held it up for Arran to inspect.
Arran saw that the coin was jet black and polished to a shine. And almost at once, he realized he had seen the material before.
In the underground city near Amydon, he’d found nurous coins exactly like this one.
Reviews
All reviews (0)