Greza followed the
soldier into the courtyard of the fortress.
Everywhere she looked she saw soldiers training. Some were practicing marksmanship, others
were practicing with swords or pikes in formation. She also saw shields and clubs, which was
peculiar because no current army used clubs or shields.
Their uniforms
were black but resembled some of the clothing she had seen. They wore long shirts that went to the knee,
high boots, elbow length gloves and round hats with flaps for the ears. A few
wore archaic chainmail as well as heavy breastplates.
The matchlock men
also carried tall axes with one long, curved blade and they’d rest the barrels
of the guns on the top of the axes to steady their aim.
All this she took
in a glance as she was led to a side door of the courtyard. Inside was a cold, dark, stone room with a lantern
that was dim from filthy glass and a wooden desk with splinter and exposed
nails. Maps of all kinds hung from the
wall as well as a few posters asking for recruits. A one armed man sat behind the desk. He had a white beard that went to his
waist.
“We got a new
recruit here,” the escorting soldier said.
The bearded man
looked up from his papers and looked her over.
He then waived the soldier away.
After the door closed the man tapped the table and then picked up his
quill pen.
“What are you here
for?” The man asked.
“I want to
join.”
“Why?”
“To fight.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m good
at it.”
He then asked her
about her parents, diet, any illness and sexual activity.
“A virgin? I’ve seen more unicorns than virgins. That aint no joke either.”
“It’s true.”
She didn’t want to
explain how she remained so. It hurt
just to think about father.
“Have they
explained terms of service and pay?” He asked.
She shook her
head.
“You sign a
contract for two years. At the end of
those two years you can choose to sign back up for another two. You will get ten Imperials a month not
counting hazard pay or any other pay from circumstances. We have rules here. Don’t break them. I don’t know what you’ve heard about
mercenaries be we’re a professional army.
Act accordingly. That means act
like a soldier and don’t do anything stupid.”
She nodded that
she understood.
“Where you come
from?” He asked.
She didn’t want to
say.
“Be honest,
girl. We won’t return you to your
masters.”
That’s what he
said but there was money to be made from finding lost slaves. But she had decided to trust these people and
pray for the best.
"The Duchy
Roristan. In the Empire.”
“I know where Roristan
is. How long ago you escape?”
“Two weeks.”
“And you came
straight here?”
“Yes.”
“You think you can
fight?”
“I do.”
“We get a lot of
people that can think that. What, you
get into a few fist fights with your fellow slaves?”
“Gladiator.”
“Gladiator? Well I’ll be tossed down a well and pissed
on. You’re an entertainer that thinks
they can fight. Very cute.”
The man stood up
with the help of his good arm and hobbled over to trunk that was covered in the
black uniform shirts of the Company.
“You’re a small
size so…” He said as he dug through the
pile of clothing. Then he tossed a shirt
and pants at her. “Try those on and tell
me how they fit.”
She looked around
and didn’t see a place to change for privacy.
She had read about this. Soldiers
didn’t get privacy. So, she began to
strip off her wet clothes right there.
The man laughed.
“Damn, girl. I was going to turn around.”
He turned around
and waited while she changed. The shirt
felt enormous and the pants felt too tight.
“Finished,” she
said.
He turned back
around and looked her up and down.
“Sit down there
and we’ll fit you for boots.”
She sat down on
the trunk and he went through three pairs of boots before finding one that fit
right. They felt stiff and stifling.
“You got bigger
feet than I expected,” he said.
She wondered if
that was good or bad.
He had her get up
and walk around a bit before making her sign a paper with everything she’d been
given. He took her wet clothes and
everything else and threw them in a basket.
“You’ll get those
back when you finish training one way or another. If you fail out, we can always use more
cooks.”
The thought of
ending up as a cook was horrible. She
did not escape and come all this way to be a cook. Father said she had a great destiny ahead of
her and she was going to make that come true.
He then handed her
a bag and put in doubles of everything she had already received.
“The rest of your
gear will be given to you by your training platoon,” he said. “Now, do you swear to obey your superiors?”
“I do.”
“Swear to uphold
the honor of the Chimera Company and always act within guidelines?”
“I do.”
“Swear to not
steal, cheat, hurt or dishonor you fellow soldiers?”
“I do.”
He then shoved a
few more papers at her that she had to sign.
She signed in her curving Dark Elf script and handed them back.
“Well, Greza,
welcome to the Chimera Fortress. You’re
not a member of the Company until you finish training. Once that happens you’ll be sworn in
officially. I hope your stay is longer
than most. Your training sergeant will
explain all the rest.”
Then she was
pushed out of the room and back out into the cold courtyard. He waved down one of the soldiers that was
idly smoking a pipe. It was a human with
a short beard and messy dark hair.
“Take this new
recruit to barracks R-1,” the one armed man said.
The solider rolled
his eyes and stood up.
“Follow me,” he
said.
Greza held her bag
with both arms and followed close behind him.
He weaved through the different units until he came to a door at the far
side of the courtyard. That opened to a
staircase that led down below the ground and then a long hallway with several
doors spread far apart.
It felt as if she
were entering a new world, maybe the underworld from the Holy Scrolls. For the first time she began to wonder if she
was making the right decision.
At the very end of
the hall was a door marked “R1.” The man
opened the door and stuck his head in.
“Hey, Vick. We got a new one for you,” the soldier said.
And then without
ceremony he pushed her inside.
She found herself
face to face with a room full of men and a few women. They wore black uniforms like she was now
wearing and were sitting around playing cards, dice, talking or laughing.
An older man, a
large, rugged Human, stepped forward.
His uniform had silver stripes, badges and patches.
“What little runt
do we have here?”
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