"How long have you been at it?"
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The bastard prince wore silver scale mail with a solid metal chest harness with an ivy design and his sigil of an angry bull atop a field engraved in. Leather reached across his body where the metal didn't and met with a long blue undercoat embroidered with black silk in patterns of ivy flowed out from beneath the armor just below the ribs. Leath had never seen someone make an armor set look elegant or delicate until now.
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"Been at what?" Leath asked.
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"Sellswording, I suppose it's called."
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"I prefer the term mercenary."
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"Contrary to popular delusion, there is no more honor in the title 'mercenary' than there is in the title 'sellsword.'"
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"Call me what you like."
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"And if I should decide to call you...whore or cunt perhaps?"
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"I suppose I'd have to put you over my knee and paddle you."
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"Ha, I knew I liked you, Leath."
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The old snow-covered dirt road the company of forty-one marched down was speared by a fork, each path bending around a deep wood. Leath continued down the path to the right.
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"Whore? Whore we go left here."
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"This path is faster, even for an army, Princess Mieczina."
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With a laugh, the prince turned his reigns and followed behind. "That's PRINCE Mieczyslaw."
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The jesting between Mieczyslaw and himself helped pass the time for a while but soon the talking faded and the jokes left. Before long the gray had set back into his mind. Stop being nice to him Leath, stop making jokes. It'll end the same way it always does. He found himself so deep in depressive thought he almost didn't notice the axe whistle a hair's breadth past his face.
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The company scrambled for their shields, some fell to the ground covering their heads; men shouted and Leath watched unmoving and disappointed.
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"Fuck, what the fuck Leath!? You said this was a safer path," Miecz shouted as he raised his shield and tried to calm his horse.
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"I said it was faster, not safer. What are you doing?"
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"What do you mean what am I doing? I'm preparing for combat! That axe nearly took your head, why aren't you doing anything?"
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"There are two reasons why I'm still alive talking to you right now," Leath said, raising his voice to a yell. "Either the COWARDS hiding in the trees lacked the skill to hit a man on a moving horse or they threw it as a warning. Either way, I am not scared, they lack the numbers to face us head-on, disorganized as we may be."
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"What if they aren't lacking for numbers? Why provoke them further?"
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"If they had the numbers we would have seen combat long ago. Look to your men, Maybe half stand ready, as their leader you must inspire them. Give them formation orders, make a show of force, these forest men are testing you."
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One of the men split for the group, running back down the path only to catch an axe to the head and another to the chest.
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Leath could see the panic beginning to grow on the prince's face. "He was a coward don't let his fear infect you, channel this into a fire in your belly and rally your fucking men."
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Mieczysław stared at Leath for a moment before turning to rally his men. "Look at you lot, pathetic! ARE YOU MEN OF PONIATOV, or scared boys? I am calling upon you, WARRIORS OF SYLACIA! The land that has given you life and fight demands yours in return. These men that hide and throw axes from behind the trees are nothing to us! WE ARE SYLACIAN, WE WILL NOT HIDE AND WE WILL NOT COWER. SHIELDS UP, MARCH!"
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The prince slid off his horse and raised his shield and his men moved to cover him. "Leath, are you going to just sit there on that horse?"
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"Yeah."
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"They could kill you."
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"Maybe. I hope not for your sake as I'm the only one that knows the path, ha."
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The little warmth the sun gave them began to fade as it made its retreat. The road fed out into a village empty of life; a low mist crept out from the hills to the north and settled in the dirt paths and open doorways of the village. The men found houses empty with food still on the table, clothes hanging from lines, and low fires still crackling. Animals lay dead from starvation in their pens; no trace of any man, woman, or child remained.
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After some time the men grew tired of searching for people long gone and taking supplies from empty homes they drew up camp, sleeping in the homes of villagers long gone. The prince sat alongside Leath on the dirt floor of the largest house in the village, warming himself by the fire.
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"I didn't think it could happen this far south," Miecz said.
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"You didn't think what could happen? What is this?"
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"We...any answer regarding this phenomenon has escaped us. Many villages have had this same fate further north; the people simply up and leave many amid chores."
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"How queer."
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"Indeed, it is. I worry this may be the work of the Diolii. They are strange and hostile folk," Miecz said.
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"Nah, wasn't them. I've seen them fight, they're...sloppy and they certainly do not clean as they go; they lack the discipline to do so. Speaking of discipline, what was that back there? Never in my life have I seen grown men, especially soldiers fall to the ground and cower."
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"They're mostly just normal men, none have received any formal training. I was meaning to ask you-"
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"No."
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"You don't even know what-"
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"You want me to train them. No. I don't have the resources out here to teach them all by myself."
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"I can buy 'resources' Leath."
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"I have a better idea. Fort Ragnar," Leath said, raising his hands to gesture at grandeur.
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"Fort Ragnar is much further east than I am willing to travel."
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"Why is that?"
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"I won't bring my men that close to Khidori lands."
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"You fear the Khidori that much?"
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"It wasn't so long ago that the Khidori warriors conquered near all Sylacia. Khaji Khan had raised hoards upon hoards, some forty thousand men, nearly all on horseback, and pushed our people out of our lands, they came so far west only Poniatov stood against them and so far south the Sazeen had to stand with old Eritana against them in the Deepspring. Any force that can push that far out of their territory unmolested isn't to be trifled with. If not for Jaiko the father of fire and his dragon burning the Khidori those hundreds of years ago we would all be Khidori."
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"The Khidori were defeated by dragon's blood and parlor tricks. It was the Gresani spearmen and the first Titans, fighting shoulder to shoulder in the midst of blood and dirt only the thrust of a blade or the stroke of a sword away from death. Cunning and valor and men won Jaiko Sylacia and in truth all Thacia, not mythical creatures. Make no mistake, the Khidori are the greatest horse archers in the world, there is no doubt of that. But, when it comes to combat, true combat, sword to sword, spear to spear, they are no Titans."
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"Perhaps you're right If dragons or even a dragon ever did exist there would surely be record or bone or petrified scale-flesh of it somewhere, somewhere other than old legend. Though it would be much easier to rely on a beast of wing and fire than this pitiful lot," Miecz said, gesturing out to the small wood and clay houses his men slept in. "Now we sleep, with an untrained army at our backs ready to die at or flee from any enemy that comes our way; I'm sure I'll sleep well tonight.".
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"There is no doubt those woods-walkers tailed us here, but this is a good thing, you have yet to blood your men, Miecz. You will lose many swords but those that survive will be all the harder for it. Perhaps you may even gain some experience yourself, princess."
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"Well whore, you should know I have the training of many of the best swordsmen in all Thacia have trained me."
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"Some drunken Poniatov bastards aren't quite what I'd call 'the best swordsmen,' princess."
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"I was trained by the slave warrior Mustafa before his rebellion, I'm sure you've heard of him."
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"Every mercenary alive has heard of him. The big Alorian that wields that huge war clever? What did he name it again?"
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"Smyrch, it means 'death' in old Sylacian."
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"What a man. It's a shame I'll never get to face him in combat, that's a death I would be happy with."
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"Death? A death you'd be happy with? You're a strange man Leath, even stranger to be pondering death happy deaths so early. Besides, shouldn't a man of your age have a wife and children to take care of? At least before the rest of your raven hair turns white," Miecz said with a chuckle.
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"I did."
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"Did?"
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"They're dead. Killed."
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"I see, I'm sorry I brought it up."
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"Yeah...I am too." A pale sword flashed through Leath's mind. It's snow-white steel drawing crimson blood from his love, then his boys. He could remember their screams; how his sons begged their father to save them; how his wife kissed him goodbye just before the light left her eyes. Leath remembered that man, the man he used to be, but that man was long dead now; replaced by a cold shell that had seen too many die to ever feel for anything again.
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He must have looked solemn because the prince spoke with hesitation and apology in his voice. "Let us speak of something else."
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"Like?"
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"Like anything."
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"Hm, What kind of name is Mieczyslaw?"
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"It is old Sylacian, it means glorious sword."
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"It's a bit dramatic for my tastes."
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"I like it, there are a thousand, thousand Vladormirs and Nicolais running around Sylacia and fucking every woman in sight only to name their sons Valdormir and Nicolai."
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"They're good names, Vladormir and Niccolai, they speak to strength."
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"If being a drunk with no job is strength, then yes, we Sylacians have men stronger than any in the world. What kind of name is 'Leath'? It doesn't sound Sylacian but one look at you and I know without a doubt you are one of us."
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"It's not Sylacian, my father, who I favor heavily was as much of a Slac as they come, born in your city I think, I don't remember too much of him. My mother, on the other hand, she was Eritanian, born in Fisher Town in a small house near the Niverchester Deep."
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"It's a shame all the Eritanians are gone now, I'm surprised the Skanish didn't try to conquer us too, then again why would anyone want Sylacia?"
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"The Eritanians are still very much alive, they're waiting for a spark to set aflame the fire of rebellion. You've got me curious, why do you want Sylacia."
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"The throne belongs to my father and through him me. My grandfather skipped over him in favor of my uncle, or so the story goes. When my grandfather died the only to verify his will were my uncle and those loyal to or bought by him. He has ruined the country, enabled laziness and ran the economy into the ground. I want to restore the glory of my country, or rather bring it the first taste."
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"Valid enough in my book. Perhaps you should consider allying yourself with Edward of Umberton like I said all the Eritanians need is a spark. If you helped them restore their lands they would be more than willing to help you restore yours."
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"It's a good idea, one I had not thought of. Though how will the histories remember me if I use foreign soldiers instead of my countrymen to retake our lands?"
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"If you're the king of Sylacia the histories will remember you, however, the fuck you say they will remember you and fuck all the rest. But horse before carriage princess, first to Fort Ragnar to train these men."
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"First to Fort Ragnar," Miecz said with a yawn as he lay.
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The little fucker is improving already, he thought as he let a soft laugh escape him.
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When the dawn came Leath gathered all the men and the princess and set forth with the beginnings of a familiar and unwelcome feeling in his heart.
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