“Exiled former nobles, common thieves and murderers, or even just some green village boys who probably don't know the sharp end of a spear from the blunt one… you always get all sorts of people when it comes to mercenaries. The trick is in discerning which companies turned their random assortment of people into effective warriors, and which are just the leader of a rabble.” - Aethelbald Stahlfaust the IIIrd, King of Knallzog, on the effective use of mercenary forces in war.
“Oh, hey, you’re the new one, ain’t ya?” asked a voice as Astrid walked around the mercenary camp as she had some time to burn until the meeting Reinhardt informed her to attend in the evening that day.
Astrid stopped in her walk and turned towards the source of the voice only to find a small group of northern orcs – easily noticeable by the brighter hues of their skin – seated around a small fire which had some chunks of meat skewered on sticks broiling around it. Their strong orcish features, namely the way their rather large eyes seemed to jut out of their sockets and their strongly set jaws with prominent tusks, hinted that they were likely full-blooded ones straight from the north.
The largest orc of the bunch, which seemed to be their leader, an impressive specimen who would dwarf most people Astrid had ever seen or known, beckoned for her to come closer. The female orc had the typical features of the race, but wore them well together with her bright greenish skin and rowdy mess of red hair.
“Come, come! Sit with us, friend!” said the orc enthusiastically as she gestured towards Astrid, who decided to take the invitation after a moment. From their postures, it was obvious that these orcs were warriors, and thus likely some of her fellow mercenaries. There was no need to alienate herself from them by being rude. “Got to say we’re happy that we no longer get to be the runt of the litter after only so short a time, thanks to you!”
“Runt of the Litter?” asked Astrid. She was aware what the phrase might mean, but was uncertain about the meaning in the given context.
“Old term from home, in this case just means we’re the newest platoon in the company,” explained the bulky orcish woman with a guffaw. “Name’s Branka, by the way, of Clan Greentusk,” said the orcish woman as she introduced herself. “At the moment commander of the second archer platoon. You and yours would be the newest now, instead of us, and I offer my gratitude for that!”
The orcish woman then proceeded to ply Astrid with skewers of well-broiled, fatty meats that tasted amazing despite the simple way it had been cooked with. Her fellow orcish platoon members also greeted her and introduced themselves in a very friendly manner, something Astrid never expected as most stories she heard of northern orcs were of brutish raiders famed for their savagery.
“Can’t have good meat without some drink to wash it down with!” declared Branka merrily as she brought out a large leather waterskin from her storage artifact and offered it to Astrid with one hand. “Have some! This is Arrak from my hometown, what the warriors drink!”
“Sure, thanks,” said Astrid as she received the waterskin and opened it before she took a tentative whiff of the liquor inside. There was a hint of a sour smell to it, but that was overwhelmed by a very strong scent of alcohol that followed a moment later. In the end, Astrid just steeled herself, lifted the waterskin, and carefully took a gulp of the liquor.
It felt like drinking liquid fire and burned all the way down to her gullet, and she couldn’t help but to cough repeatedly after she swallowed the drink.
“She can actually stomach it! She’ll make a good warrior!” declared Branka amidst the cheering of her fellow orcs. The burly orc then took the waterskin back – Astrid was all too happy to part with it – and chugged down a significantly larger chunk of its contents in one go, before giving out a satisfied sigh and passing the waterskin around to the other orcs. “You’ll do fine! Welcome to the Company!”
It took Astrid another half hour or so before she could excuse herself from the merrymaking group of orcs. She was quite full of the surprisingly good food and somewhat woozy from the strong drink, but couldn’t help but feel encouraged by the experience. If the rest of the Company were as welcoming as these orcs, maybe it would not be a far-fetched dream for her people to live well amongst them after all.
As she walked around the mercenary camp some more, Astrid happened to see some people whose appearance and demeanor caught her eye. She was familiar with that look. It was the look she had once seen when her brother-in-law, the current Earl, took her to the dungeons to show her the worst criminals in the Earldom, with the unspoken threat that he would let them have their way with her should she go against him.
This particular group of mercenaries had a similar look to those criminals. People who probably kill for enjoyment rather than just to make a living, or worse, though they were surprisingly well-behaved and rather demure. Astrid even saw a slender but rather short elven woman walk up behind one of the mercenaries that had the look of a killer who was staring at her and slapped the back of his head, and the mercenary didn’t dare to even make a complaint about it.
Astrid also heard the sound of wood clashing against each other, so out of curiosity, she went to the direction the sound came from, which happened to be the section of the camp that those criminal-like mercenaries were gathered in. Those mercenaries either quietly stepped out of her way or gave polite nods as she passed, though, which was something she found a bit unexpected.
Perhaps she was at fault for judging a book by its cover.
Avitue
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“Exiled former nobles, common thieves and murderers, or even just some green village boys who probably don't know the sharp end of a spear from the blunt one… you always get all sorts of people when it comes to mercenaries. The trick is in discerning which companies turned their random assortment of people into effective warriors, and which are just the leader of a rabble.” - Aethelbald Stahlfaust the IIIrd, King of Knallzog, on the effective use of mercenary forces in war.
“Oh, hey, you’re the new one, ain’t ya?” asked a voice as Astrid walked around the mercenary camp as she had some time to burn until the meeting Reinhardt informed her to attend in the evening that day.
Astrid stopped in her walk and turned towards the source of the voice only to find a small group of northern orcs – easily noticeable by the brighter hues of their skin – seated around a small fire which had some chunks of meat skewered on sticks broiling around it. Their strong orcish features, namely the way their rather large eyes seemed to jut out of their sockets and their strongly set jaws with prominent tusks, hinted that they were likely full-blooded ones straight from the north.
The largest orc of the bunch, which seemed to be their leader, an impressive specimen who would dwarf most people Astrid had ever seen or known, beckoned for her to come closer. The female orc had the typical features of the race, but wore them well together with her bright greenish skin and rowdy mess of red hair.
“Come, come! Sit with us, friend!” said the orc enthusiastically as she gestured towards Astrid, who decided to take the invitation after a moment. From their postures, it was obvious that these orcs were warriors, and thus likely some of her fellow mercenaries. There was no need to alienate herself from them by being rude. “Got to say we’re happy that we no longer get to be the runt of the litter after only so short a time, thanks to you!”
“Runt of the Litter?” asked Astrid. She was aware what the phrase might mean, but was uncertain about the meaning in the given context.
“Old term from home, in this case just means we’re the newest platoon in the company,” explained the bulky orcish woman with a guffaw. “Name’s Branka, by the way, of Clan Greentusk,” said the orcish woman as she introduced herself. “At the moment commander of the second archer platoon. You and yours would be the newest now, instead of us, and I offer my gratitude for that!”
The orcish woman then proceeded to ply Astrid with skewers of well-broiled, fatty meats that tasted amazing despite the simple way it had been cooked with. Her fellow orcish platoon members also greeted her and introduced themselves in a very friendly manner, something Astrid never expected as most stories she heard of northern orcs were of brutish raiders famed for their savagery.
“Can’t have good meat without some drink to wash it down with!” declared Branka merrily as she brought out a large leather waterskin from her storage artifact and offered it to Astrid with one hand. “Have some! This is Arrak from my hometown, what the warriors drink!”
“Sure, thanks,” said Astrid as she received the waterskin and opened it before she took a tentative whiff of the liquor inside. There was a hint of a sour smell to it, but that was overwhelmed by a very strong scent of alcohol that followed a moment later. In the end, Astrid just steeled herself, lifted the waterskin, and carefully took a gulp of the liquor.
It felt like drinking liquid fire and burned all the way down to her gullet, and she couldn’t help but to cough repeatedly after she swallowed the drink.
“She can actually stomach it! She’ll make a good warrior!” declared Branka amidst the cheering of her fellow orcs. The burly orc then took the waterskin back – Astrid was all too happy to part with it – and chugged down a significantly larger chunk of its contents in one go, before giving out a satisfied sigh and passing the waterskin around to the other orcs. “You’ll do fine! Welcome to the Company!”
It took Astrid another half hour or so before she could excuse herself from the merrymaking group of orcs. She was quite full of the surprisingly good food and somewhat woozy from the strong drink, but couldn’t help but feel encouraged by the experience. If the rest of the Company were as welcoming as these orcs, maybe it would not be a far-fetched dream for her people to live well amongst them after all.
As she walked around the mercenary camp some more, Astrid happened to see some people whose appearance and demeanor caught her eye. She was familiar with that look. It was the look she had once seen when her brother-in-law, the current Earl, took her to the dungeons to show her the worst criminals in the Earldom, with the unspoken threat that he would let them have their way with her should she go against him.
This particular group of mercenaries had a similar look to those criminals. People who probably kill for enjoyment rather than just to make a living, or worse, though they were surprisingly well-behaved and rather demure. Astrid even saw a slender but rather short elven woman walk up behind one of the mercenaries that had the look of a killer who was staring at her and slapped the back of his head, and the mercenary didn’t dare to even make a complaint about it.
Astrid also heard the sound of wood clashing against each other, so out of curiosity, she went to the direction the sound came from, which happened to be the section of the camp that those criminal-like mercenaries were gathered in. Those mercenaries either quietly stepped out of her way or gave polite nods as she passed, though, which was something she found a bit unexpected.
Perhaps she was at fault for judging a book by its cover.
Avitue
If you enjoy this story, please consider leaving a rating or review to help it gain more exposure (and help counter the haters), thank you!
Read ahead on my Patreon! For 5$ a month patrons will gain early access of up to 25 chapters ahead, or for 10$ a month, gain early access of up to 55 (10% bonus) chapters ahead!
Or you can subscribe to all my stories and get a 10% discount on the price!
Join the Discord for silly stuff and chat with us!
