Even on the march, they ate like kings, especially around the fire with Galin, the officers, and their sweethearts. Maria always took care of the cooking, and it was always far better than anything Luthene might have attempted. Without a family of his own, the boy, Colum, would often join them, claiming the food was best with them. He was probably right, but Luthene suspected he enjoyed the sweets she usually gave him when dinner was over almost as much.

They had arrived on the hill by mid-afternoon, and a few men from each section were sent out to scout the village, and try to find out more about the bandits, especially their numbers.

They had just started eating their evening meal when the first pair of scouting men returned. “About a hundred men, dispersed throughout the area,” one said upon finding Galin and the others. “Many of them are peasants, but a good number might be former soldiers. Terrible discipline.” More came back over the next hour, reporting the same. It was all in line with what Mathuin had been telling Galin already.

The men all knew the plan, and the information only confirmed what they had already assumed. Still, Mathuin and Lajaka made sure to get confirmation of their orders.

“I still don’t see why I gotta wear this thing,” Lajaka grumbled. She was wearing Luthene’s grey and white dress. The two women were of a similar size, and it fit her well. Lajaka’s hair had also been combed out, though it hung loose.

“You’re not trying to be a soldier, you’re Mathuin’s niece,” Luthene replied. “Avoid saying anything bawdy unless you know they’ll like it. And take care of my dress!”

Galin went over their orders again and gave Mathuin the Company’s flag. After the pair had left, Galin went over the plan again. While some men in the sections that would be staying behind grumbled about it, they all knew how important it was to leave enough men behind to keep the women and children safe. Luthene, fortunately, would be in the fight, part of Cooper’s troop. They had trained together in the few days before they had left their camp nearer to the city, and she told Galin that his promotion of Cooper had been a good idea.

After the sun set, some men huddled under blankets for warmth and sleep, while others started making rounds around the camp, keeping watch. Luthene draped a blanket over Galin’s shoulders, then sat down beside him to sharpen her knife. It was a familiar ritual for the both of them, especially on top of that hill.

“I suppose it’s for the best that I didn’t break Ranulf’s fingers,” Luthene said. “It’s a good hauberk, and it fits well, but with all the leering he does, it had better.” She stopped for a moment, and wrapped her arm around one of Galin’s. “Don’t do anything brash like last time, alright? You’ve already got your reputation. I don’t want to have to sew you back up again.” Or worse.

Galin’s plan was an audacious one, Mathuin thought, as he sat in front of his section’s cooking fire. It was the sort of ruse he would have used in the North against the Spirit Lord’s forces, and it made the old man proud, after a fashion, that the young commander was not a new Cedric. He had done a good job keeping the company together in the retreat and the difficult weeks back in their camp, trying to rebuild and take care of the destruction left in Cedric’s week. If he survived this fight, Mathuin had a secret set of orders from Galin, along with nearly every last crescent Galin had to his name in a leather sack buried in the back of his travelling pack. He was going to put his years of wandering the roads of Revaliir to good use and track Cedric like a bloodhound, reporting back to the company whenever he could, so that when Galin was finally secure in the fortress they were assaulting, he could keep his promise and visit justice on the murdering bastard. That was another point in the young commander’s favor, thought Mathuin, watching the flames dance in the cool air, his bloody-mindedness in response to Cedric’s abuses. It would serve him well, and spoke of his character. Mathuin spat into the fire and looked up at the setting sun, judging that it was nearly time to get any final instructions from Galin and gather up Lajaka for the ruse. Sighing, he stood, feeling an ache in an old leg wound that always pained him on cold days, and he kneaded the scarred flesh under his trousers until it was dulled enough so he could walk without limping.

When he made it to Galin’s fire, Mathuin threw his head back and laughed, his eyes nearly disappearing as they crinkled with mirth. “Sweet Maker’s name, you got her into a dress? I thought it would light her on fire the moment something a proper lady would wear touched her skin.” He leaned close to Lajaka, blocking the inevitable blow his comments would elicit from her, and whispered theatrically in her ear. “The good news is the skirt’ll give you easier access if one of the lads in the camp up there catches your fancy, so it can’t be all bad!” Chuckling, he squatted down next to Galin and chewed his lip, putting the plan through its paces in his head as the young officer rattled it off for the tenth time in the last day.

“You’ll leave within the hour, and make your way down the main road to the fortress. Make a show of travelling with goods to sell. I bought a chapman’s entire bloody panoply, so you will look the part.” Galin remembered the look of the peddler when Galin produced a gold crescent and offered to buy all his wares in the market in Adeluna and smiled. Details, he thought, would be the making or unmaking of them all. “So when you arrive, you’ll know what to do. Hawk your wares, sell ribbons to the wives and sweethearts, exchange gossip, the same shite you’ve done before, even do that swordsmanship exhibition, so they don’t think it’s strange to have a peddler with a war sword about. Make sure they get drinking, though I doubt that should be an issue, and get them good and sotted. Once they’re snoring, keep yourself and the wildcat there sober, and head to your quarters for the night. Before dawn, get over to the gatehouse, get the bar out of the brackets, but leave the thing closed so they don’t suspect a thing. When you have it done, hang this from the gate,” he said and passed the man the blue and white banner of the company. “When that’s done, stay near the gate. Don’t want you getting your old grey head staved in when I release the hounds. Fall in with us and stay alive. Do we understand each other?”

Mathuin waited a moment to reply, stuffing the banner into his pack, rolling the details over in his head one more time. He was sure the plan was good but it was a foolish man that headed into something like this without some serious thought. To be found out would mean death, and likely not a pleasant, quick one, but whatever the bastards could think up to torture him and Lajaka as well. Still, he was a soldier and it was a risk he would have to take. He turned to the younger man and nodded curtly, extending his hand. “Aye. It is understood. Get them drunk, distracted, and open the gate, all the while avoiding ending up dead.” Galin smiled as he shook it and nodded. “And the best of you luck to you coming through the gate, son. Don’t get yourself dead either. Though I can think of far uglier widows to comfort, so don’t try to stay safe too hard,” he said, punching the younger man on the arm and standing. He bowed to Luthene with a wink and then hoisted the chapman’s pack onto his back. “Come along, wildcat. We’ve got a fort to get drunk beyond words. Sounds like your sort of job, even if you stay dressed for once.”

The walk to the fortress was easy and Mathuin noted with some disdain the sort of lax discipline that pervaded the bandits, considering some of them were clearly old soldiers. After a life at war, he expected better, even if they were wolf’s heads. “Keep close,” he whispered to Lajaka as they stepped through the gates. “You may be able to handle yourself but I know men like these won’t take that as a reason not to take whatever they like. Follow my lead.” One of the bandits prodded Mathuin in the chest and spat at his feet.

“So what makes you think you are welcome here, old man?”

Mathuin smiled easily, reverting back to his persona of the last two odd years. “Oh, my son, you must have mistaken me with someone who scares easy.” He grinned, his voice raised so men began to drift toward them. “Oh, sure, with your peach fuzz and scowl, you would have scared many a man, but not a Highlander, mate. You are out of your depth. You see this sword?” He patted the hilt at his side, waiting as the men gathered, ringing the three of them, and then chuckled. “I’ll bet you a crescent that I can get it out of its scabbard before you draw yours. Think you can beat me, pup?” The man looked Mathuin over as the old chapman dropped his sack of wares to the ground and cracked his knuckles in front of him. “What do you say lads? Do you fancy he can get that sword out faster than an old man?” The men murmured and started betting, coins changing hands as Mathuin stalked around the circle like a lion in a traveling circus. “What are the odds on me, big fella,’ he asked one of the men, a heavyset man with a tattoo of Adeluna’s royal cavalry on his forearm.

“Ten to one, grandpa.”

“Ten to one? Have some faith lads, I sure do!” He plucked ten crescents from his pouch and handed them to the man. “On myself, of course. Now, what do you say, fella? You ready to be whipped by a man twice your age and twice as handsome?” With the ring around them, the man was not able to back out without losing face so he nodded. “Come now son, I am an old man, hard of hearing. Did I hear you say you’d be taking my challenge or heading back to your mam’s apron?” The man glowered at Mathuin and roared that he would happily whip an old man at anything and take pleasure in it as well. The crowd shouted back its approval, and Mathuin grinned, flexing the fingers of his right hand. “Well, big fella, you give the word. Count three, and we draw, aye?” The ex-soldier nodded and shouted out the numbers, the crowd shouting with him to a crescendo at three. As the word left his lips, the bandit’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword and he began to drag it from its fleece-lined sheath. Half the steel was showing when Mathuin moved. He took a stamping step forward, startling the man a fraction of a second before Mathuin’s right fist slammed into the bridge of his nose, breaking it and sending him reeling and stunned to the ground. As the man blinked, trying to focus his eyes, Mathuin slowly drew his sword, laughing as the men around him began laugh at well, taking the loss of a crescent or two well for the pleasure of seeing the young pup humiliated so amusingly. “For a bandit, you’re an awfully trusting fella,” Mathuin said, and pulled the unsteady man back to his feet. “And here’s a lesson to go with your pretty new nose: Age and treachery beat youth and skill every time. Learn to fear the old men in a world where men die young.” Laughing, he linked arms with the man and steered him through the crowd to the stone building that used to be the lord’s hall.

The evening passed in revelry, with Mathuin selling them trinkets to please their sweethearts or placate their wives while they slept with their sweethearts, and ale, wine, and even some mead flowed liberally. He sang them songs of the North, battle songs, and then the humorous ditties that were part and parcel of the chapman’s trade. The rafters shook with the choruses known the continent over, of the husband’s seven drunken nights, of Highlander and the two lovely lasses, and countless others. By the time the men were slumped over the tables and against the walls, snoring in their stupor, it was an hour until the dawn. Matuhin yawned and nodded for Lajaka to follow him to the gatehouse. There too the men were still feeling the effects of the free flowing spirits, snoring in their bunks. Mathuin slipped his dagger out of its sheath on his belt and stepped over one of the sleeping guards. In a smooth, practiced motion, he clapped his hand over the man’s mouth and nose and drew his blade across the man’s throat with the skill of a butcher in his shambles. The man gurgled quietly and lay still, his bedding soaked in his life blood. Lajaka dealt with the other man with equal efficiency and while her man died, Mathuin pushed cots against the inside of the gatehouse door, blocking it shut. He tossed the flag to Lajaka from where he had secreted it inside his tunic. “Go hang the bastard and then get back here. We don’t leave this room until Galin’s men have the gateway secured. Move quick now, lass. We’ve got a small army waiting on us, can’t have you loafing about!” As she mounted the steps, he hauled on the lever that kept the gate’s locking bar in place and the heavy oak beam lifted back into the roof of the gatehouse, leaving the gate ripe for Galin’s assault.

While she left the signal above the gate, Mathuin cleaned his dagger on the dead man’s tunic and slipped it back into his belt, then drew his long, heavy war sword and propped it against one of the empty cots, then lay down in it. Closing his eyes, he smiled and finally relaxed when he heard Lajaka return. Without opening his eyes, he spoke to her. “I am an old man and I am tired, so be a dear and make sure they don’t wake me if they start getting suspicious about the gate. There’s a good girl.” He reached out to make sure he could easily find his sword’s hilt and once he was satisfied, he settled into the cot, hoping to catch a few moment’s rest before the inevitable chaos of the assault.

"Brash? Me? Ha!”

Galin squeezed Luthene’s hand and smiled, the sort of crooked, carefree smile that he usually had before he did something reckless. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. If I could best your lot in the Valley and the best a proper lord had to offer here already, a handful of brigands with pitchforks hasn’t really got me worried. You, though, you be careful. This new formation and all ain’t be blooded yet and there’s a chance something goes terribly wrong. If it does, don’t be noble. Just go and I’ll be right there with you, yeah?” He leaned close and kissed her cheek then laid out a blanket for them on the hard ground. “Just a few hours til dawn and we’ll that that door we’ve wanted by supper.”

The night passed quickly and Galin felt groggy when one of the sentries shook him awake as he had requested. “Steady on sir, ‘bout an hour til dawn, by my reckoning.” Galin blinked, nodded, then thanked the man, leaving Luthene to rest a few more minutes if she could. Pulling on his leather cuirass, Galin looked around at the men stirring in the pre-dawn blackness, their eyes bright in the still, cold early morning. They were ready, he thought, and smiled, his straight teeth flashing, as he drifted through the camp, giving words of encouragement and a pat on the shoulder to men from his old sections until he found Hugh with his men forming in ranks at the base of the hill. Galin confirmed his orders and shook Hugh’s hand.

“Happy hunting. Once things are underway inside, be sure to pop in through the back gate. I wouldn’t want your lads to miss all the action.”

The diversionary force decamped loudly and ostentatiously, moving along the base of the fortress’ hill, just inside the cover of trees but with no attempt to hide its passing as it moved toward the Water Gate. Dogs barked nervously as they passed and slowly the bandits who were awaked by the clamor began to react, moving up into the fortress and toward the far gate. Galin smiled again as he returned to the dying embers of his fire, seeing that Luthene was awake and preparing for battle as well. Instead of his heavy war sword, Galin hung his new dwarven blade on his belt, opposite the canvas bag of quarrels for his crossbow. It was strange not carrying his spear and heavy shield but in the sort of fight he expected, speed would be far better protection. “Shall we?”

Leaving three sections to guard the camp, Galin and the rest of the company moved quietly in the dark along tracks that had been scouted the day before, all leading through the scattered cottages around the slope of the fortress’ high hill. The first rays of sunlight were starting to break over the horizon as the men crouched in the shadows of the abandoned cottages, cottages left empty after their attack on the fortress months before. Galin sent Cooper ahead to keep a watch at the gate, looking for the company flag to appear on the ramparts. Despite his age, Cooper still had some of the best eyes in the company and Galin trusted him to see the flag before anyone else. While he waited anxiously, hoping that the diversion was still working, drawing the eyes of the brigands to the Water Gate, he levered back the cord on his crossbow and slipped a bolt into the groove.

A whistle from the head of the company meant that Cooper had seen the flag and Galin breathed a sigh of relief that the action would start. Waiting was what bothered Galin the most, the seconds stretching on before the fighting started, giving his mind time to think of every possible way his plan could fail. Now, though, it was too late to worry. The assault was on and the men streamed up through the abandoned village, killing the handful of bandits that were sleeping in some of the huts nearest the gate with silent precision, whipping blades across the throats of the sleep and drink-befuddled men before they could raise an alarm. Galin caught up to Cooper who found himself a ruined two story cottage where he arrayed some of the better marksman in his section to prepare to pepper the courtyard with arrows while Galin secured the gateway. “Lovely day for a scrap and so it is,” said Cooper as he chewed on a long blade of grass with an air of casual indifference. “I’ll keep the proper marksmen here, the rest will be in the gate with you to give ‘em volleys.” He did not speak as though he were asking Galin’s permission but was simply telling him how things would be done and Galin, despite the insubordination, was inclined to give the man latitude. “Stay safe out there, sir.”

Galin nodded and sprinted the rest of the way up the hill where the men were already heaving open the unbarred gate. Never one to lead from the rear, Galin stepped through the gap first and brought his crossbow up to his shoulder, picking out a large, tattooed man with the look of a soldier. With calm precision, he depressed the trigger and the cord snapped forward, spitting the bolt in a shallow, blurring arc into the man’s chest. He staged back a few paces, his face incredulous as he grabbed at the squat, leather-fletched bolt, then sank to his knees, blood bubbling from his lips as he sank all the way to the ground, his battered sword dropping from nerveless fingers. Galin did not wait to see the man fall. Instead he grabbed his lever and began to haul back the crossbow’s cord again as more arrows and bolts began to fly through the courtyard.

“Hold it… hold it lads. Two ranks, loose as a single man. Everyone without a bow, go beat the bushes and drive the buggers here. Quick now, quick!” From outside the fort, Cooper’s marksmen began to loose their yard-long arrows at the men gathered near the Water Gate to repel the attack from Hugh’s men that would not come. Galin smiled and picked out another target, leading the crossbow along his path as the man ran between the small huts in the courtyard, then loosed the bolt, automatically beginning to reload the moment the quarrel left the bow. The men in the ranks were beginning to lay down the disciplined volleys that he had insisted upon after the massacre in the wheat field and the shafts were starting to tell, tearing great, bloody rents in the leaderless men milling in the courtyard, taken totally by surprise by the suddenness and ferocity of the Highland assault.

She felt Galin stirring beside her, but it took a few minutes for Luthene to properly wake. His cuirass was on by the time she sat up, and he started to wander the camp while she got herself ready. She put on her heavy hauberk, then her sword belt. While Galin only had a buckler, Luthene would continue to use the larger round shield she had become accustomed to. When Galin returned to their fire to gather his weapons, she placed her hand on his shoulder and pulled him closer. “Stay alive,” she said, and kissed him, holding on a bit longer than she had the last time they’d been on this same hill.

While Hugh lead his troop to the Water Gate, loudly, the rest of the Company moved quietly down off the hill, through now-abandoned cottages. Cooper went ahead to look for the flag, the rest of his troop not far behind. When the signal came, the killing started. Duncan lead the section around to take the flank opposite the Water Gate, and once they were in position, they revealled themselves in a loud and ferocious fashion. Luthene drove the point of her sword into a man as he struggled to draw his own weapon, and then drew it across his neck just to make sure he didn’t rise again.

It was a rout from the moment the attack started. Duncan ordered the section to push, and more bandits abandoned the weapons and shields they had initially reached for. Some went running right into more Highlanders, from Hugh’s troop, or Padraig’s. There was fury and shouting, and men of the Company wore the blood of the bandits they had killed, Luthene among them, and it made them all the more frightening. There seemed to be only one way to go that wasn’t blocked off by the Company, and this is where the bandits began to run… until they were met with a volley of arrows from Cooper and the other bow-wielding sections.

Seeing this, some men turned and ran back into the swords, spears, and axes of the Company. Duncan ordered his section to tighten their formation, but it was a thin line. Fortunately, the bandits had no formation at all, so they were unlikely to break through and cost the Company their victory. One man, perhaps a former soldier, still held his sword and ran to Luthene. If he thought, because she was a woman, that she would be weak, he was mistaken. His attack was fierce, but Luthene knew it was coming and managed to deflect it out. Her shield between his blade and her body, Luthene brought her own sword up and tried to thrust it into his side, but he was also wearing mail underneath his cuirass, and her blade was stopped. He grinned and tried to bring his sword around the top of her shield. Luthene ducked low, moving her shield over her head while also dropping her sword in favour of her long knife. His sword rammed hard against the boss of her shield, and she rammed her knife up into his groin and twisted. Withdrawing the blade, she kicked the man down and then slit his throat as well.

As she was collecting her sword up off the ground, she saw a boy run into the fight, not far from where the bowmen were. There was a long knife in his hand, and even from a distance, she knew who it was. “Colum, no!”

“Ready… loose! Second rank…. Ready. Loose!” Like clockwork, arrows sped off strings and bolts spat from crossbows, humming through the air until they slammed into the churning mass of men at the far end of the courtyard with a sound like butchers’ cleavers striking sides of beef. Men spun, clutching at the feathered shafts as they fell and others, struggling to avoid the blades of the men Galin sent through the courtyard, ran into each other, tripping over the dead and dying as they tried to find safety near the Water Gate. Men were struggling with the heavy oak bar that kept the door shut and Galin laughed, nodding to his trumpeter to sound the advance. Hugh’s men would break from cover then and swarm the gate the moment it opened. Attached from every side and cut apart by the steady, disciplined volleys of the skirmishers, there would be nothing the brigands could do but lay down their arms. Hoping to speed up the process, Galin ordered the men in the gateway to advance, closing their range and ensuring that every arrow or quarrel found its mark.

As the lines advanced and checked before starting their measured volleys again, Galin could have sworn he heard Luthene’s voice over the sounds of the fight. He looked around and to his left, sweeping men toward the killing ground, he saw her and her gaze was fixed on a figure parting out ahead of him. “That idiot boy…” Galin threw his crossbow aside and dragged his sword out of its scabbard and sprinted toward Colum who, knife in hand, was running at a large, imposing man with a heavy woodsman’s axe. Swinging his left arm, Galin cuffed Colum across the head and stunned him, sending him spinning to his knees and instead of slowly, he extended his right arm, locking his wrist, and barreled into the bandit, his sword like a horseman’s lance. The blade sliced through fleshed and bone, obliterating his heart as the tip buried itself in the man’s spine. He wrenched the blade free and felt the man’s warm blood spurt onto his face and chest. Growling, he grabbed Colum but the collar and dragged him back behind the skirmishers. “I’ll deal with you later, boy.”

Unfortunately for Colum, he would not have to wait long to feel Galin’s ire. The gates at the far side of the fortress creaked open and the first men tried to escape. Their shouts of triumph were cut short as a battle howl tore through the air and Hugh’s men drove into the gap, blades rising and falling as they cut a bloody path into the fortress. The arrival of the second force was enough to take the heart out of the bandits and one by one they dropped their weapons to the blood-slick cobbles of the Water Gate’s gateway and sank to the ground in mute surrender. Galin grinned like an idiot. It had worked. It was a success and not a man of his had been lost that he could tell. It was better than he could have dared dream and he touched the Maker’s amulet around his neck as he gave a prayer of thanks for the events of the day. Cooper and his men descended from the eyrie and loped up the path to join in the exultation, the big man clapping Galin on the shoulder. “Not bad, sir, not bad at all. Domnall wasn’t all wrong when he said you knew your way around a battle. By Maker’s cods, did you make a mess of these poor bastards. Wolf’s heads, though, so I’ll get some lads with axes handy so we don’t lose the bounties.”

Galin nodded and then seemed to notice that he was still holding his sword and covered in gore. “Thanks, you take care of that. And don’t go killing any of the live ones. I have a plan for them.” He knelt down and wiped the sticky, drying blood off his blade and pushed it back into its scabbard before looking for Luthene in the crowded courtyard. Seeing her, unharmed, he broke out into his crooked grin and jogged over to her, hugging her tightly despite the blood and sweat that clung to them both. “See, nothing brash or reckless and all, and not a man dead unless Hugh lost a fellow coming up the ridge. It’s a bloody fantastic day!” He kissed her, spinning her around with a mix of relief and giddy joy, before he forced himself to be composed and look to the prisoners. “Now, you know what I’ll be asking of you, once you sort Colum out, aye? We head up to the lord’s chambers, with his lovely iron-bound oak door, and I’ll need you to draft a letter to that magistrate bastard…. M something… whatever he name was, it’s no matter. All the surviving prisoners, we will interrogate them and then send them under guard to the City, where he can try them and take their bounties for himself. Ought to smooth over some ruffled feathers after my negotiations, no?”

He whistled for Cooper, winked, and jerked his head at the fortress. The big man’s face broke into a knowing smile and he nodded back. Galin looked at Luthene and grinned at mischievous, crooked smile again. “Colum can wait. That room, with that door, though…” He leaned down as though he was going to kiss her but ducked lower at the last second and wrapped an arm around her waist. With a heave, he had her, sputtering in protest, over his shoulder and the men cheered as they entered the fortress and found, much to Galin’s delight, that the lord’s quarters not only had a stout door with an iron bolt to lock it, but a large bed stuffed with down. His luck, it seemed, was holding out.

It was a good door, Luthene decided. The bed, however, would take some getting used to, being Luthene was used to something far less luxurious than this. But, she thought, as she nuzzled the hollow of his neck until he turned aside to kiss her, she would adjust in time.

They had been allowed to stay in this room undisturbed until well into afternoon, though Luthene knew a knock at the door could come at any time. She began to trace circles along Galin’s chest, thinking. “You know, most boys Colum’s age would be working in some way by now, at least in the south,” she began. “With their parents on farms, usually, or starting to apprentice for their fathers, if he has a trade. I know Colum helps out now and then, but it’s irregular, and he’ll often be given a coin, candy, or something, in exchange for the work, rather than doing it because it is expected of him. The work is good, of course, but otherwise… he has a great deal of freedom, and very little discipline.” She paused again, further contemplating the situation. “It’s not enough to give him a trashing and be done with it. Put him to work, regular duties he will be expected to preform every day, for nothing more than regular meals and a bed. He should know how to read and write, too, and sums.” Luthene leaned over and kissed Galin. “And you know such lessons are probably worse than anything you might give him. Only after his chores and lessons are done for the day might he be permitted to learn to use that knife he ran into battle with.” She smiled. “You’re no knight, especially in the southern tradition, but he’ll be your page nonetheless.”

There was more than one blanket on the large bed, and Luthene grabbed one as she sat up. She wrapped it around herself and moved over to the large desk. Someone had been writing something when the attack started, but she couldn’t make sense of it. “This letter is in code, I think. Are any of the men skilled in deciphering it?” She set the coded message aside, and dipped the quill into the ink pot. “Alright. Whenever you’re ready.”

To Maurice of Veredne, Lord Magistrate
From Galin Ochiern, Captain, Highland Company The manor that once belonged to Lord Arnholt has been taken, and all bandits have been killed or captured. Those who surrendered and were taken prisoner will be sent to you, and you may claim their bounties for yourself if you wish. I pray this gesture will put things right between us after our last meeting. Now that the manor is ours, shipments of livestock, flour, vegetables, and beer, can be sent, as agreed in our contract. Additional ale and

“Galin, really?” Luthene said, interrupting his dictation. He explained that, yes, the request really did need to be made. Shaking her head, Luthene continued to write:

women for the comfort of unmarried men would also be welcome. As previously stated, an itemized list of expenditures will follow once repairs have been completed. Regards, -G

“We’ll need to find some blue sealing wax,” Luthene said when she finished the letter. She left it on the desk so the ink could dry, and made her way over to the bed. “Though that reminds me,” she added, climbing back in beside Galin as the blanket she had been using to cover herself fell away, “you still need to decide on your own device for your shield. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Galin, it needs to be done, especially now that you’re the captain. It’s expected of you.” She placed a hand under his chin and turned his head to hers, then kissed him, pressing herself closer as she did.

The knock at the door came then. In her mind, Luthene cursed whomever it was; Galin did so aloud.

“Some of the men are bickering over room assignments, and we need you to help us figure out watches.” It was Cooper, of course.

“It’s nice that no one can just walk right in,” Luthene said, pulling on her tunic and searching for her trousers. ”I think, seeing as we’re just getting settled here, there won’t be any need for inspection tomorrow morning. See that everyone has their tasks this evening at dinner, and if a few people want to lie in tomorrow morning, well, no harm in that so long as the work gets done, right?” Trousers on, Luthene kissed Galin’s cheek. “You see to the men. I think I’ll go to the infirmary and see what state it’s in.”

“And you would strip the lad of freedom and enterprise and make him a serf? Southern notions, those!” Galin chuckled, his accent thickening for effect, and he winked at Luthene. “You aren’t wrong exactly, but there is more to it than that. Structure for its own sake isn’t really… it’s not the North. We’re a bit untamed yet, as you’ve seen when we fight, or other things,” he said, with a heavy emphasis and a kiss, “but rules and structure ain’t for their own sake. The boy needs to learn discipline but he already had the traits most needed in a warrior and we saw them today. He’s got courage by the boatload and he took initiative. The rest can be trained, but he’s got a proper warrior’s blood I don’t want to see the wee fella turned into some fighting clerk in order to give him grounding. It’d be like breaking a Bohari horse to work a plough. Bloody waste of talent. But he ain’t my trouble,” Galin started to say, before Luthene decided the opposite and he sighed, knowing better than to try and argue the point. “Well, if he’s my page or whatever your southeron lot call it, I get to train him proper. He’ll learn all those chores you’re going on about, but not for their sake, but because they are what’s expected of a young man training to be a soldier. Gives some dignity to the work, you see? And the sums and the letters are your province, not mine, so best of luck getting that hellion to sit quiet and learn his letters. You can’t very well kiss him into submission like you do me!”

When she got up, he suppressed a laugh until she was at the writing desk. “And another thing, darling, you know you don’t need that blanket unless there’s a chill. There’s not a thing under there I haven’t seen or kissed already, you know.” He enjoyed her blush and enjoyed kissing her even more when she left the letter to dry and rejoined him. Before he could make his intentions for the rest of the evening abundantly clear, Cooper hammered on the door, warning of complaints of billets and work details. His plans and the unpleasant topic of his signet would have to wait and he loosed a string of cursing impressive in both its breadth and variety. He dressed alongside her and as he buckled his war belt around his waist, he hugged her with the other arm and grinned, something he found came easier around her than even he remembered. “Well darling, I’ll see you after supper, then? Maybe even without that blanket?” Leaving her to blush again, he opened the door and leveled a glare at Cooper. “If no one’s dead, you will be, you giant bastard.”

It was amazing what different two weeks could make, Galin thought as he pushed open the door of his quarters. The palisade had been strengthened and a defensive ditch was dug around it while the villagers who had fled after Arnholt’s death and the arrival of the brigands had begun to return, taking up their homes and fields and thus allowing Galin to report to the Crown that normalcy was being restored to the fort and lands. Normalcy meant crops and crops meant taxes and that was music to the ears of any official of the Crown. The work kept the men busy and the magistrate had been quick to send supplies and the tavern in the fortress was soon known for more than just its ale. The men seemed to be settling into their new life and, with the settling, came and easing for the burdens of command on Galin’s shoulders.

“You know,” he said to Luthene who was already in the large, tapestry-lined room, “I think you tricked me with your plan about Colum, love. You see, I’ve asked around. A page is supposed to be a help to a knight or a lord, not a burden. You’ve adopted a stray dog instead, and what’s worse, convinced me it was my own damned idea!” He chuckled and kissed her while she sat at the desk, reading over the latest dispatches from the Crown and the other sundry paperwork the company seemed to accumulate like a dog did fleas. “Though I think it might be easier, oddly enough, with more of them. A bunch of the young lads training. Good for them, gets them out from underfoot, and it’ll be a new pool of men if the company stays intact. And then Colum can’t say ‘But why does this only apply to me?’ and whinge and moan til I kick his arse into action.” Laughing, he sat heavily on the bed and kicked off his boots. “Pass me the report from Her Majesty, could you, darling? I’ll save myself the trouble of asking you to tell me what it says and you ordering me to read it myself and skip to the reading.”

He skimmed the parchment, knowing by now to skip the first few lines which were self-important titled nobles from the queen through the magistrates brandishing their drawn-out lineage to cow any reader into submission before the orders began. Instead, he scanned the vellum for the words “request and require” then began to properly concentrate. He read it over again, turning the page toward the light from one of the high windows to make sure he did not mistake a shadow for a letter, and nodded. Soldiering, it seemed, was finally needed, though not the kind Galin would have preferred. Instead of serving alongside the main Crown forces, the Highlanders were being sent off to deal with some disaffected Adelunian nobles who had raised their own company of sellswords and were looking to carve out a piece of the debatable land between Vilpamolan and Adeluna, possibly to foment dissent in the Kingdom itself. The company, therefore, was to find them, ascertain the extent of their danger, and take whatever actions were necessary to secure the border. In other words, find them, kill them all, and leave their bodies as a warning along the high road to Adeluna City, but all without support or reinforcements from the Crown. “Well, this could be worse,” he said, and put the parchment on the small table next to their bed. “I won’t worry about it til morning, though. No sense in rushing out in the dark, tits over arse, for a half day’s march. No, I’ll just roust them come dawn and until then, I’ll enjoy this lovely bed before we have to be back on the ground with naught but a blanket. And maybe, if I am lucky, you might join me?”

Did Domnall have this much paperwork, Luthene wondered. It seemed that more messages came in every day. Most of it concerned the farms around the fortress, or the villagers who worked them. Arnholt had been lax about collecting rents and sending that coin, along with his taxes, to the Crown. That was a shame, Luthene had written in response, but of no concern to the Company. Perhaps not, came the reply, but the money was still owed, and surly good subjects of the Queen would not begrudge paying a bit more to their sovereign this year to make up the difference? And so on and so forth the correspondence went. In the end, Luthene knew they may have to ask the villagers to pay a slightly higher rent this year, but she would try her damnedest to reduce the debt as much as possible.

“I did no such thing!” Luthene said with mock indignation when Galin joined her. “I offered suggestions for Colum’s upbringing, and suggested that if he is to serve anyone, you would be the most logical choice!” She set the papers aside when he leaned down to kiss her. “It’s only been two weeks. Give him a year or so, and he’ll be more of a help to you. Perhaps show him how to sharpen a blade, there’s always a good deal of that to do.” Colum’s lessons with Luthene weren’t making much progress, and Galin was right, she couldn’t kiss him to get him to comply. It was a bit easier when, rather than having him practice copying letters and numbers in chalk, and running through drills until he knew what they were, she showed him the Company’s old ledger. He was more motivated to learn things if it meant being useful to the Company, and Galin in particular.

“I think there’s a handful of boys about Colum’s age, if you want to see about training them. I don’t mind helping more learn their letters and sums, either. I’d like to see the girls taught to read as well, if their parents don’t object.” In Luthene’s case, she was expected to wed a craftsman, and both reading and basic math were sometimes useful in a wife. She didn’t know what the expectations were for daughters of Highland mercenaries, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt them to learn as she had.

As Galin read the report, which she had already read herself, Luthene considered his words, about having more young ones training, boys who might join the Company as men. It brought to mind something she had wanted to discuss with him, and this was as good an opportunity as any to bring it up.

Galin set the parchment aside, finished reading it. When he invited her to the bed, she got up from the desk, and sat down beside him. “You know, if you want a new pool of men for the Company, you may want to encourage the men to start families. This place, I think it’s ideal, especially for a soldier. Women and children are safer here than before, and perhaps a man might be lead to think that it’s a good time to start a family. And perhaps…” Luthene leaned in and kissed him, softly, before she went on, “you could lead by example? I mean, I’m not,” she added quickly, taking his hands in her own, “Not yet. But… I could be. If you want.”