Chapter Text
To say General Lee had met a lot of people during his life both before and inside the Barrier, surrounding the accursed Valley of Mines on not a bit less accursed Island of Khorinis, would – to put things in some sort of figurative perspective – mean to say nothing. In his service to the Crown he had seen it all, twice, and took pride in his ability to recognize people for who they were rather than the masks they put on for a show. Many a noble smiled into the faces of those around them, only to draw a concealed dagger once your back was turned – a lesson he had learned the hard way and that was the sole reason he had had the opportunity to get acquainted with the company of people he was in now.
The convicts, they were much easier to read. Most wore their deeds and character on their sleeve. A mercenary or a rogue did not hesitate spitting into your face exactly what they thought of you, rather than resorting to honey-glazed flattery.
There were, unfortunately, occasions when he could make a mistake. Orik had been one such case, taking off into an unknown direction after the fall of the Barrier and adding to the already long list of things that made Lee bitter to no end. On one hand, all recent events considered, it was understandable. On the other, a man having sworn loyalty to the leaders of the New Camp had proven himself less trustworthy than some of the rogues whom many a mercenary had been cursing to hell and back whenever they had the chance and who stuck with them through everything life had thrown at them in the past weeks.
Yes, Lee could make mistakes. After all, he was only a human, and humans are prone to making mistakes. However, the former General did not question his initial impression twice when it came to the man in charge of the handful of warriors who appeared on the crossroad in front of Onar’s farm one morning soon after the paladins had set foot on Khorinis.
Leader of the supposed mercenaries of the king’s, Sylvio, left the impression of an eel and was clearly ready to bow to the whim of the one who paid the most; be it the landowner, or King Rhobar, or one of the orcish colonels. After talking to him one had the urge to wash their hands, lest there was something disgusting and slimy on them. Even Lares (who normally appeared at least friendly with everybody by default) was incapable of ridding himself of a frown for a long time after the rare occasion he was forced to interact with the man calling himself a mercenary.
Over the coming days, the General only became more convinced he had been right in his assumptions as everything went to dogs within the ranks of the mercenaries – at an alarmingly fast rate so. Having assumed the role of a humble follower at first, Sylvio began weaving his own cobweb, seeking to drag unwitting newcomers and even those loyal to Lee into it. Seated in the centre of it, a spider in human disguise, he soon shed the form of a fair leader and took on the mantle of a warmonger who would have done nothing keener than initiate his very own civil war first on the farms and then on the whole of Island of Khorinis as well.
Lee understood his men and their interest in Sylvio’s rambles, for sitting on a farm just twiddling their thumbs was not how any of them, himself included, had envisioned their life after the fall of the Barrier. In addition, with the paladins having taken over the City of Khorinis, they felt less safe by the day – a feeling most dangerous when battle-hardened and angry men with an unhealthy excess of energy were on the receiving end.
The fact that they were stuck on the island with no visible way out only made things worse and provided rich soil for arguments when Sylvio began imposing his own ideas of how things would be run were he the leader. At first, nobody but his own men listened, Lee’s mercenaries brushing it off as the rambles of a madman – for he had to be one, hence he pressed for a direct assault on a city, full of militia soldiers, knights and paladins. And yet, a couple of days here, a few conversations there – and the damage was done. Luckily, aware of how fighting among their own ranks would make them an easy target in case Lord Hagen, purely out of boredom, decided to take it up with the rebellious farmers, Sylvio chose to lie low for the time being while still busy rallying newcomers to join his side, rather than initiating an open conflict.
* * *
Only rarely did the old house which the landowner’s family inhabited already for the third generation see such turmoil; even in the most trying times when everything around them prepared to fall and crumble had the farmers taken pride in their ability to keep their calm and never resort to a louder word. The cacophony of raised voices the mercenaries present in the large room downstairs employed as means to solve their problems shook the old building to its very base as though not people but a group of drunk and very loud orcs had gathered inside, and the few farmhands who dared sneak a peek through the crack in the door deemed it safer to remove themselves from the building in case the angry, armed men decided an attempt on each other’s lives was an appropriate way of solving conflicts.
- With utmost respect, - Lee clenched his teeth while counting to ten in his mind, in hope it was going to be enough for him to calm down, -but I have repeated this time and again. There are not enough of us to take it up with the paladins.
- They are weakened! – There was now a disgustingly sweet yet dangerous tone to Sylvio’s voice. – We’ve cut off their food supply! Not even the paladins can live off of empty air!
- Just the fact you are offering to attack the city proves that neither you nor your men have ever been even close to them, - Lee took notice of how the man turned pale at this observation, – whereas I’ve spent most of my life fighting side by side with the paladins. And I know the limits of my men. We can keep the militia off the farms, and the beasts from the Valley of Mines off the backs of the farmers on the High Pastures, but we can under no circumstances take it up with the paladins.
- That’s your final word, then? – Inarguably, it sounded more threatening than the man had intended; one could see it from his face as Sylvio, without a doubt, expected a sword to be drawn at him for a second.
Had there been, he would have been ready for it.
- Yes, - with this, Lee made it clear the discussion was over.
- Very well, sir.
The General sighed, heavily so, after Sylvio and the rest had cleared the room. It was afternoon, the heat outside stood heavy, the air – stuffy, with the promise of a thunderstorm – and large, grey clouds were gathered above the forest in the North, the rye still bathed in golden sunlight a stark contrast to the dark sky. The farm slumbered, its inhabitants gathered in the cool shade of trees and in the barn, caring little for working themselves into exhaustion for the benefit of somebody else.
- Mercenaries of the King’s, right. Right, - for a while, the only sounds in this part of the house were restless steps and angry muttering as Lee paced about in the room. – The old bastard sent a ship, full of paladins, and reinforced it with mercenaries who joined somebody else as soon as they set foot on shore? Right. Hagen thought it was a good idea to trust them around the ore? I’ll believe that when I see it!
- If you keep walking, there will soon be a dent in the floor, - the commentary came completely unexpected as Lee, in his agitation, had forgotten about the person in the room who had not deemed it necessary to respect his wish to be left alone right now. – Last time I saw you like this was a couple of years ago, and we both know how well that ended.
- Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere?
- Eh, - Lares shrugged one shoulder, as though shaking off an annoying mosquito, most of his attention bond by the apple he was peeling. – Somebody else is taking care of the harbour at the moment. This shit, - the peel was sent on its merry way out the window and hit a surprised (but overall happy with this sudden blessing from above) sheep on its nose, - is really getting the best of you.
This observation drew another sigh from Lee, as he finally admitted there was more truth to those words than he wanted there to be.
- Tell me; how can people be so stubborn and stupid? – The question was more of a theoretical nature – an outlet for the anger and disappointment boiling underneath the calm appearance of the mercenary’s. – How is it physically possible to be so damn stupid? The paladins are butchers for Innos! How does somebody claiming to have fought side by side with them not know this? How does somebody willingly rally and offer to lead people right into their deaths when they know the outcome before the battle has even started? Insane bastards, the lot of them!
- Not all of them, - Lares finally found a place to squeeze his opinion into, when Lee had to stop for a breath. – Not even most of them. We’re barely out of the Colony, of course they are eager to give the paladins and the rest hell, and then this dude comes along. Even a lot of Sylvio’s own men think he’s one part stupid, three parts hot air; they just run along because they are used to his command. At least Jarvis tells us so.
- If they go down, they will pull the rest of us along! Beliar’s cock! We cannot afford a split into factions now, there are too few of us and too many of them. If enough of the boys decide Sylvio would be a better leader—
The apple core followed where the peel had went, this time bouncing off the sheep’s back, and the animal almost fell over hurrying to snatch the rare treat before its brethren had noticed.
- Okay, that’s quite enough throwing shit at own people for one day, - the thief attempted to take up the role of a peacemaker – something not quite common to see around him, but, from what Lares himself could judge, he succeeded at it. – Calm down. You know that will never happen. We’ve been through so much shit together, and they know what you are about and what you are capable of. Their siding with the man is only a whim, born out of boredom and fear, and we both know it.
- I should hope you are right about that.
- Of course I am! Anyway, - Lee had not noticed when exactly had the thief managed to corral him between the table and himself – an inconvenience that merely deserved an eye roll, for anything else would have been a waste of energy, - I’d really like to have a word with you. Away from curious ears.
- I swear, if this is just you—
- I assure you, - Lares’ face dropped as though he found the assumption alone insulting. A little more, and the thief was going to start pouting. – It’s important.
- Fine, - Lee growled, more so than spoke, an answer. – The usual place. In two hours.
* * *
The kitchen sat in the centre of the farmyard almost as though it, with its thatched roof and log walls, and not Onar’s house were the most important building on the farm. Smoke was climbing slowly from the chimney, just as lazy in the hot weather as the people below, and the few farmhands who visited Thekla to grab something to eat hurried outside just as fast as they had arrived, to move themselves farther away from the hot stove and the two mercenaries who appeared more orcs than humans to simple farmers. The man Lares needed right now, however, paid little to no attention to the two, or the decimating looks they shot at him time and again in hopes that, should they stare for long enough, Jarvis was going to dissolve into thin air.
Lares knew their attention had shifted the moment he stepped through the door and that he was it now, as the two mercenaries knew not how to do anything subtly. In a crowded tavern at the harbour of Khorinis where a good dozen of voices spoke and argued at all times, two of them silencing would have passed by the ear without anyone noticing it. In a large, empty kitchen on the farmyard, in the middle of the day when it was too hot even for the cicadas outside, two voices silencing at once had a similar effect to the end of the world rolling around.
Paying no attention to such detail – or perhaps blissfully unaware he had the subtlety of a berserk orc in a porcelain shop – Sylvio waved his brute of a henchman away. After dismissal, Bullco proceeded to stare down the two men in most subtle (which in his case meant none) manner as well, arms crossed on chest, the vein on his forehead bulging as though it was about to burst. Half way through the conversation they had hoped to eavesdrop but the details of which escaped them, the mercenary leant towards his right-hand man and whispered something. The brute merely shrugged for an answer.
- All in all, - Jarvis kicked back in the chair, balancing it on two legs and resting his back against the wall, as little inclined as Lares was, to let the two onlookers know they were well aware of being the objects of observation, - I wouldn’t worry just yet. Lee’s a clever man; he won’t permit an open conflict.
- It was easier back in the Colony, - Lares noticed, amused, how the mercenary in front of him rolled his eyes at this reminiscence. – Hey, I’m just saying! Somebody struts around like they own the place, you bash the bastard’s teeth in a couple of times, he learns the lesson...
- Would still work. You’ve just been in the city for too long. That’s all the boys here do sometimes. Too bad the General is not a man to give in to provocations easily. Would save us a whole lot of trouble.
- You just say that because you haven’t seen him truly angry, - the thief put an expression of sheer horror on his face – difficult to say whether true or artificial – before patting Jarvis on the shoulder and turning around on the heel. –Well, keep an eye on the newcomers.
Whether or not they had intended to intimidate the rogue, their plan did not work, for, when Bullco blocked his path (“Oh, I think we might see the General truly angry, and sooner than anticipated.” – courtesy of Jarvis), Lares merely gazed up, a tired look on his face.
- You are in my way.
- Sylvio wants to have a word with you, - the brute flexed his muscles, intended to sow fear and respect, yet oblivious of the fact he appeared no more threatening to the scrawny pest than a juvenile scavenger did.
- So? – Lares cared very little for what Sylvio wanted; his own wishes rarely aligned with those of others, and, while he had ever so often done it at the New Camp, this was neither the place nor the time to seek a compromise. – Let the man speak himself instead of sending a talking baby troll.
- You insolent... – there was a clumsy motion of hand, and Bullco was left staring at the place where he had intended for his fingers to lock around the rogue’s throat but where he only saw empty air now. – Why, you—
- Bullco! – Sylvio barked, making his way to them as casually as though he was on his way to meet an old friend. – My apologies. The man tends to overact and exaggerate orders. I’d have words with you – of course, only if you have the time to spare.
- Speak then.
- In a more secluded place.
- Either we do it here, - Lares shrugged, as a secluded place rarely meant something good – a lesson well learned, as it was embedded in his skin, - or you can forget about it.
- Alright, good, - the mercenary gave up and gestured at the table he had been sitting before. Something in the manner he spoke and acted reminded Lares of the Ore Barons. A long lost cousin of Gomez or Raven, perhaps, the thief smirked under his nose; that smirk the only thing reminiscent of a smile, not lingering for long.
Lares felt Jarvis’ eyes in his back as the mercenary, without a doubt, was interested in the conversation as well. Not as much for the sakes of keeping an eye on Lares (the long years in the New Camp had taught them all better than to assume the rogue would be willing to drive a concealed dagger through their back if given the chance) as to hear what the self-proclaimed future leader had to say he deemed luring enough to expect a change of heart in the thief.
- You seem a reasonable fellow, - Sylvio took a seat at the table, Bullco once again next to his boss. The Mercenary offered the thief a cup of what the farmers proudly called schnapps but which was, in reality, dishwater, in compare to the stuff available to Onar and his family (Lares would know this fact best of all, as a few bottles had changed their cosy spot in the cellar under the house for just as cosy spot first in a bag and then a chest in one of the rooms on the second floor of the tavern in the harbour district of Khorinis), and Lares declined the invitation as politely as it was possible at the moment, arms crossed, letting Sylvio know with every part of his being just how much he despised the charming company he was in.
- More than most of the lot here, - the mercenary continued, pretending he did not see any of it. – And Lee trusts and listens when you speak your mind.
- I have known Lee for a long time, - Lares cared very little whether he would offend the man in front of him or not; there was a time and place for polite teatime conversations, and this was not it. – Much longer than any of your men have been under your command.
- But he does not command you, - Sylvio clicked his tongue. – You stand as equals.
- I have things to do and places to be, - the thief cut him short. – Speak what you wanted, or don’t waste my time.
- Okay, okay, I understand you are a busy man, - Sylvio clasped hands, -and trust me, it is not my intention to hold you up for long. I merely wish to find common ground with your leader, and something tells me you can help me with that.
- And what do you want me to do? – If there was a person more apathetic towards anything than Lares was towards Sylvio, then they were most certainly somewhere far away in Myrtanian forests or in the snow-decked mountains of Nordmar.
- Put in a good word for me. Far as I know, your boys in the... what is it that you called it... the New Mine or something? Your boys could ascend to the ranks of the mercenaries under Lee’s command. So there must be something you know, that evades me. A trick. An approach. A way of doing things. To make him listen to other people rather than to his judgement alone.
- To listen to you, to be more precise. To you and your insane rambles.
- I just want to take what rightfully belongs to us. We fought in the war while the honourable lords sat their arses on a nearby hill and watched. Just think about it –if we take Khorinis, the paladins will be trapped. No way in or out of the island. We control the only escape route there is. The only ship there is. Not to mention the city with all its riches, right there at our feet.
- At your feet.
- Hey, you cannot tell me you don’t want a piece of the pie, after years of rotting in prison. I know thieves do not become thieves for the blood rush. Do you not want to pay them back with the same fake coin they pushed you?
- What I would or wouldn’t want does not concern you in the slightest, - Lares’ voice gained a cold, metallic note to it, and he no longer bothered to keep up a friendly appearance towards the mercenary. – You want me to persuade Lee to risk the lives of his men for the rambles of a madman? Or to step down, so you could use them as battle fodder instead?
- I meant no offense, - the thief watched Sylvio raise his hands in a placatory gesture; a move so theatrical even the most naive shepherd on the farm would not be fooled. – I know it must sound insane to you, but I’d ask that you think about it. Sleep on it for a few days. Maybe you will—
- I already said, and I emphasize, - Lares narrowed his eyes, - I have known Lee for a long time. And I have no wish to take your side.
- Hey, no hard feelings! – Sylvio smiled; the deceived, caustic smile of a snake that had witnessed a much-anticipated kill slipping away into tall grass. – If I were you, I’d consider. You’re not in the Colony any longer, and things in the outside world do not always go as planned. Not even for General Lee. Who knows, - a poisonously sweet note slithered its way into his voice, - one day very soon this place might be under new management. There are a lot of bandits and cutthroats out there, particularly now. Who knows? I’d have you reconsider, just in case something... occurs.
- Is that a threat? – Even Bullco made a step back when Lares’ palms hit the surface of the table with enough force to make the clay mug jump on the uneven surface. The thief was perfectly aware that right now he appeared more like a wild animal than human to the two men in front of him.
Good.
- A well-meant advice, - Sylvio found his calm sooner than his bodyguard did.
- Really? Then let me tell you exactly what you can do with that well-meant advice of yours, - the rogue smirked. – You can—
- Lares? – Thankfully, they did not learn the last part which would have, no doubt, sported quite a colourful, exquisite language, as Wolf stuck his head into the kitchen before Lares had begun. Judging by his facial expression, however, Sylvio was well aware what would have followed, for an ugly scowl made his features even more gruesome than they had been before. – A word, if you don’t mind?
- I think we understood each other, - Lares could not resist flashing a queer grin before he turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen, patting Jarvis (who was also grinning, ear to ear) on the shoulder on his way out.