Chapter 10: Recruitment

Lilia was in high spirits. Today, the sun shone brightly, and the streets, usually so cold, had grown much warmer. Such fine weather was a rare gift in the Season of Water. The vibrant young woman was clad in a suit of full rhinoceros-hide armor, the thick layers of leather wrapping around her shapely figure in a way both practical and pleasing to the eye. Even Lilith, the sister of Nelson, captain of the Warbear Mercenary Company, had never owned such fine armor. Yet what truly delighted Lilia was the emblem stamped upon the breastplate: a nightingale perched on a rose branch, singing under the gaze of a full moon.

This crest was the sigil of a noble house. Lilia did not understand its deeper significance, but she knew she was now a household guard in the service of a lord, and all the other members of her company had become retainers of this family as well—even those uncles and elders who had been crippled in battle.

Walking back to the Warbear Company’s headquarters, Lilia drew envious and admiring glances from her comrades. Before she had even entered the temporary quarters—once a stable, now converted—she heard the uproar and cheers of roughhousing inside.

Pushing open the wooden gate, she saw the one-eyed Gru and Ironhammer, two burly fellows, wrestling on the floor, surrounded by Warbear mercenaries roaring with laughter.

“Gru, put your back into it! Pin him down and the full suit of mail is yours!”

“Ironhammer, didn’t you have enough to eat? If you don’t give it your all, this little treasure’s going to end up in One-Eye’s hands! Hahaha…”

Lilia shot a glare at the rowdy troublemakers, shoved her way through the merry throng, and headed straight for the inner room.

“Brother, I’m back,” she called to Nelson, who stood with his back to her, studying a map.

Hearing her voice, Nelson turned and smiled indulgently at his sister. “Lilia, how did it go?”

“Brother, the grain and farming tools are all purchased. The wagons and livestock will be delivered to the headquarters shortly. But… as for recruiting settlers, there’s been little progress.” Lilia hesitated, but chose to speak honestly. “Linda, Old John, and the others are still out in the shanties beyond town, trying to find people. Even by the time I returned, they had recruited less than a hundred. I’m afraid it will be difficult to fulfill our lord’s commission.” Her tone was tinged with discouragement.

“I see. Well, in a while, take Gru and Ironhammer and the others out there. Have them dress smartly and bring more black bread—you might be able to attract a few more farmers.” Nelson patted his sister’s shoulder. “I’ll go see the lord now and report. I’m sure he won’t blame us.”

“All right, Brother. I’m on my way.” The girl departed cheerfully. She’d always believed her brother could resolve any issue. She did not notice the shadow flickering deep in Nelson’s eyes.

Victor looked at the mercenary captain standing respectfully before him, wearing the composed and gracious smile of a nobleman.

From the previous day, Victor had begun making preparations to recruit men.

He had not appealed directly to Count York for help; that fat swine would only mock him loudly and ensure everyone else did as well.

Years of hardship at the bottom rung of society on Earth had taught him the value of seeking help from those actually in power. So instead, he’d gone straight to the castle’s quartermaster. After discreetly offering a purple coin, the previously cold official became effusive, not only selling Victor a batch of “retired” weapons and armor, but also having the Wimbledon family crest stamped on each piece.

When Victor mentioned his need for manpower, the enthusiastic quartermaster sent a trusted aide to guide him to Old Jack’s Tavern.

After Victor explained his intentions to Old Hal, the tavern keeper eagerly recommended several mercenary companies. However, in such a den of rogues and vagabonds, Victor kept his guard up, his senses—already keener than most—heightened to the extreme. He overheard the conversation between Nelson and Gru downstairs.

In that moment, Victor recognized an opportunity. Mercenaries were, by nature, a mixed bag of the lawless and the desperate. Yet those who adhered to a code were rare indeed.

From Hal, Victor learned that the Warbear Company had once been renowned among mercenaries, even serving the Kingdom of Dordor and fighting several hard battles against the fierce Saxons.

But the Warbear Company had a tradition that set it apart: it never discharged its wounded. Instead, it cared for them for life.

This rule gave Warbear a cohesion unmatched by other companies and made it stronger, but as time passed, the number of injured grew, and the burden became ever heavier. Frequent wars with the Saxons had, until recently, provided ample reward to keep the company afloat.

But as the Saxon raids eased, the company’s income dwindled, and the wounded became a massive liability.

By the time Nelson assumed command, Warbear was sinking fast, unable even to pay its mercenaries. Young, promising members were poached by rivals, and the company’s fortunes declined daily. Nelson hoped to lead his men into service under a noble house, but Warbear’s traditions saw them rebuffed by every lord.

Yet, for Victor, a company that upheld its code was worth far more as his guard than one that was merely strong.

In a private room upstairs in Old Jack’s Tavern, Victor met with Captain Nelson. He made no attempt to hide his circumstances and declared his willingness to take in Warbear’s wounded.

Nelson, after brief deliberation, agreed to become Victor’s vassal; in truth, he had no choice left.

Victor then provided Nelson with funds and equipment, instructing him to purchase supplies and recruit settlers.

Now, though the supplies were acquired, the task that should have been easiest—recruiting refugees—had met with little response.

“My lord, that is the situation. By the time we depart tomorrow, I expect we’ll have no more than a hundred fifty settlers at most,” Nelson said anxiously.

Without enough settlers, their plans would be doomed.

Victor rose and went to the window, gazing out at the sparse crowds in the square. “Nelson, why do you think we’re failing to recruit settlers?” he asked.

“My lord, ever since the eastern three provinces of the kingdom were ceded, a great number of dispossessed farmers have gathered at the Centaur Hills, hoping for a chance at life. By rights, it should be easy to find enough hands. But we cannot. So I suspect…” Nelson faltered.

“Suspect what?” Victor’s eyes bore into Nelson’s, his voice low.

“My lord, I suspect that news of your attack by the Blood Fox Bandits was deliberately spread among the refugees. Those farmers may believe we cannot protect them, and would rather face hunger than risk their lives joining us on the frontier,” Nelson replied, gritting his teeth.

“So it is.” Victor sighed. “Nelson, keep trying to recruit. But do not bring the wounded with us to the new territory.”

“My lord, but…” Nelson was immediately stricken at the thought of abandoning his injured comrades.

Victor smiled. “Don’t be alarmed. I’ll give you another two thousand gold solars. Use this money to purchase an inn and a general store in town to settle the wounded. Have them help us recruit settlers here, and keep an eye on what’s happening in Blackfort Town. But make sure they keep their identities hidden—if anyone learns they’re my people, they’ll be at risk.”

“Thank you, my lord! Don’t worry; though my old friends are crippled, they’re canny as foxes. This will be no trouble for them,” Nelson replied, thumping his chest in gratitude.

“One more thing: prepare a carriage for me.”

“My lord, where are you going?”

“Rose Manor,” Victor replied, a playful smile flickering across his handsome face.