Kun’s sunny demeanor dampened somewhat at that. “Oh? And what of the friend you sought?”
I shrugged. “She was safe and sound on the coast. We found her in Brekkur, but she had long been reunited with her family. It was on our way back that the war broke out, and we reconsidered the position we took in our last chat with you.”
“Hm,” said Kun, tapping his chin. “The strange part is, most folk in Dorsea do not see our battle as being against the Shades. At present, folk either side with Wojin, or they remain loyal to King Jun and his son, who may still be alive.”
This put me ill at ease. We had indeed spoken as if we had some inside knowledge of the war that most would not possess. Fortunately, Dryleaf rallied to save us.
“My friends are no masters of statecraft or politics,” he put in. “But I have wandered these nine kingdoms a great deal longer than they. From all we have heard, it seems clear to me that the Shades are the true threat and the power behind Wojin’s treachery. If the Shades fell, I doubt this civil war would last much longer. And since the Mystics are servants of the High King above all, it seemed to me that you would be most interested in such a course. That is why I suggested to them that we return here and that they enlist in your service.”
Kun’s smile remained strong as he considered these words for a long moment. His gaze moved slowly between the three of us as if he was trying to read our intentions in our expressions.
“So you are against Wojin, are you?” he said at last.
“Certainly, if he pits his strength against the High King,” I said.
“If that is the case,” said Kun, “then do you mind telling me why you attacked loyalist soldiers?”
Mag and I were too astonished to speak. And at that moment, one of Kun’s Mystics stepped forwards and drew back his hood. The heavy scar on his left cheek was familiar, as was his stout frame, and soon I placed him. He was the young Mystic we had met at the Taitou gates the first time we came here. As I studied him more closely now, I could see that his face shared Kun’s features. It seemed they were relatives.
“Lieutenant Zhen,” said Kun. “Are these the ones you told me of?”
“They are, Captain,” said the Mystic. “I came to the gate in Huzen just in time to see these two—not the old man—attack the guards. They forced the gate open and fled, even while fighting raged in the streets behind them.”
Kun fixed a steely gaze upon us. “You followed them to Huzen. Did they ever visit a friend on the coast? In Brekkur?”
Zhen shook his head. “They did not, Captain. That was a lie.”
I cursed under my breath. Zhen must have followed us from Taitou to Huzen, looking for us to betray the King’s law. He must have had exceptional woodcraft for me to have never noticed him tailing us. It seemed Mag had been right—Kun suspected us from the first.
Kun’s brow furrowed, even while his smile remained. “To be clear: did the guards at the gate attack these people, nephew?”
Zhen’s expression darkened. “They did not, Captain. These two struck first after the guards tried to enforce their orders from the mayor, who is loyal to King Jun.”
“Now, hold on,” I said quickly. “We were in the middle of a strange town, trapped in a battle about which we knew nothing. We had no idea the guards and mayor were loyal to King Jun. We did not even know about the civil war. We only sought to escape the fighting.”
“By harming servants of the King’s law,” said Kun, nodding as if I was making perfect sense. “Of course, I wish to believe you. But there is, of course, no reason to do so, since you have lied about so much else. There is every possibility you knew exactly what you were doing. And that, I am afraid, is a risk I cannot take. Guards!”
The last word was a battlefield bark, so sharp and sudden that I jumped. The door flew open, and four Mystics entered with blades drawn. The constables in the room drew their weapons with grim looks on their faces.
Beside me, Mag had tensed to fight. Dryleaf’s head swung back and forth, trying to read the room from the sounds around us. Oku backed up against my legs, whining. But before things could go any further, I threw up my hands towards Kun and the Mystics at the door.
“Wait!” I said, as sharp as Kun had. It stopped everyone for an instant, but that was enough for me to continue. “Listen. When last we were here, we told you we used to be mercenaries. That was true, but not the whole of it. This is Mag, known to many as the Uncut Lady. I know at least some of you must have heard of her.”
They froze on the spot, though Kun had given them no order to halt. His eyes went wide as he looked upon Mag with fresh wonder.
“That is right,” I went on, more slowly now. “If you have heard of her, you know she did not have to leave a single guard alive at that gate in Huzen. Yet she did them no lasting harm, but only left them with a few lumps. She could kill everyone in this room right now if she wanted to. Or she could do the same to you as she did to those guards, getting us out of here without spilling a drop of blood.”
The air in the room felt thick as butter, and still, no one moved—except Kun, who licked his lips.
“I believe she could,” he said, “if tales of her exploits have not been exaggerated. Yet neither of you moves. What are we to make of this?”
“We have no wish to hurt anyone,” I said. “We told you we came to help, and that is the truth. Take us into your service. With the Uncut Lady on your side, you are that much closer to victory, whatever your aims.”
Again the room went silent. Mag, for her part, had not moved since I started speaking. The mask was down, her battle-trance rendering her emotionless, cold, calculating. I hoped she would restrain herself until we were sure there was no other way out of the room.
Still, Kun stared at us. But now his focus was mainly on Mag, and his perpetual smile had faded. I saw calculation in his eyes: factors weighed, measured, and tossed aside one by one.
At last, he managed to summon his smile again.
“I believe that you do not wish to harm us,” he said, “or it would have happened already. But neither can I trust you, what with you having attacked soldiers under the king’s command. Even your offer now veils a threat of violence, like the peacetime treaty of a warlike king. And I cannot discount the possibility that you might be spies. I am afraid I must ask you to leave. And if you are on the side of the King’s law, you will do so without a fuss. If not … well. I suppose I shall learn firsthand whether the Uncut Lady deserves her reputation.”
I was at a loss. It was heartbreaking to think of leaving Taitou empty-handed. We would be no better off than we were when we fled Huzen, and we would have wasted even more time into the bargain. Worse yet, Kun would doubtless send word of this to the Mystics across the land. We had to persuade him, but I was at a loss.
But Dryleaf was not. Again he spoke as a bard, his voice filling the room and invigorating the heart.
“You are making a mistake, and you are shirking your duty,” he said.
The air in the room, already chilled with the outside air, seemed to grow colder still. Kun’s eyes flashed.
“You are turning away two fighters who could turn the tide of a battle,” Dryleaf went on. “And former military officers who could train this militia you are recruiting.”
Kun’s smile widened. “Oh?” he said. “You think you can train my fighters into worthy soldiers?”
Mag dropped her mask. I saw the tension bleed out of her, and at the same time, I felt some of it dissipate in the air, making me sigh with relief.
“I can,” she said earnestly. “I can turn your farm boys and smiths’ daughters into a force of warriors you can use.”
Kun deliberated on that for a moment. But then he shook his head.
“It is too great a risk.”
“Watch us as close as you like,” I said. “What harm could we do if you are vigilant around us?”
Kun’s smile showed teeth. “You two should know better than most that a soldier you cannot trust
is worse than useless.”
I gave an exasperated sigh, but mostly because he was right. “Then give us a chance to prove you can trust us! A week, Captain. Just give us a week.”
His brows rose. “A week? And just what do you think you could do in that time?”
That gave me pause, and I shared a look with Mag. To be honest, the words had slipped out of me in desperation. I did not know that I could do anything with just a week. But Mag answered to cover my sudden silence.
“In a week, I can train a fighter who can beat one of your Mystics.”
Kun’s smile broke into a full laugh. “I assume you are joking.”
“I am not,” said Mag. “Let me prove it.”
Inwardly, I groaned. Ten days to turn farmers into fighters who could beat hardened Mystics? I would have balked at the challenge when I was in my prime, and I had not trained soldiers in well over a decade. It seemed impossible. But we had little choice.
“Hm,” said Kun, stroking his chin. “I must admit, such a feat would impress me. And yet, there remains the matter of your dishonesty. Why should I believe your intentions or your boasts, when you have lied about your purpose in Dorsea since the first moment I met you?”
Mag fixed him with a look. “You strike me as one who knows the value of truth sparsely given. When first we met, you suspected us. You sent one of your agents to follow us and see if we got up to any mischief. Yet when you spoke to us, you were all smiles and courtesy.”
Kun tilted his head. “No circumstance demands ill manners.”
“Just so,” said Mag. “But we had no reason to trust you. If you know anything about the Shades, you know that they have slithered into many corners across the nine kingdoms. We thought it better to keep our intentions far from our lips, lest word of it reach them. I regret it now, but I would do it again.”
All was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, Kun shook his head ever so slightly.
“A bit of the truth is better than none, I suppose. Very well. You shall be provisional officers in my force. In one week, there shall be a trial by combat. You choose one of your soldiers, and I will choose a Mystic against whom to pit them. If your champion wins, you can consider yourselves enlisted. If my champion wins, you will be on your way and trouble me no more.”
There it was. A week did not seem anywhere near enough time. But it was what we had.
And Mag, of course, smiled and said, “We have a deal.”
We had arrived in Taitou late in the day, and so we rested overnight before Kun brought us to his forces. He made us pay for a room at the inn, but it seemed unwise to complain. In the morning, Kun fetched us and led us towards his encampment on the northwestern end of town. Dryleaf and Oku came along with us. I was afraid Kun might order them to stay behind, but he said nothing.
We had not spent a great deal of time in Taitou before, but even so, I could tell things were different. There was a tension in the air that had not been there before. People in the streets had a new sense of purpose, an excitement above the day-to-day lives of common folk. Wagons and carts moved weapons from smiths and town stores to Kun’s encampment. Smithies rang with the music of hammers, and there was an extra note of urgency in every haggling merchant trying to extract more coin from each deal.
As we followed Kun out the western gate, we saw the land that had become his army’s training grounds. His troops were housed and fed in the city, but Kun had commandeered a few farms outside the walls to give them a space to train in weapons fighting, as well as to practice marching and moving in formation.
There looked to be at least four hundreds of soldiers formed into ragtag groups. Some were in lines, while some were paired off and battering each other with blunt swords. As we drew closer, I spotted red cloaks moving among the crowds. There were dishearteningly few of them.
“How many Mystics do you have?” I asked Kun.
He looked over at me, his immortal smile never faltering. “Forty, all told. Only ten of them are of the rank of knight. Those, I have assigned as lieutenants or sergeants in this little force. The remaining Mystic warriors are my unit, to form a strong center on any battlefield we may find ourselves upon.”
Mag nodded. “That is wise. And how many soldiers have answered your call?”
“Four hundreds and three scores,” said Kun. “Not so many, but more than my officers can manage easily. I am quite thrilled to have your help, even if you only remain for a few days.”
“We are sure you are,” I said, letting a hint of sarcasm shine through. “But if you fear we are spies, why would you tell us the composition of your forces so exactly?”
That made Kun laugh. “Oh, really. Any farmer in his fields could get a good count of my soldiers with hardly any effort. If you worry about the security of information, be assured that I do not intend to tell you anything about my aims, intentions, or plans.”
Mag’s brows rose. “How heartening.”
As we came to the training grounds, Kun gave a tremendous barking shout. “Tou!”
Everyone within a span of him jerked, all the soldiers turning to look in his direction. Most of the regular militia simply stared, but every Mystic placed their hand over their heart in salute. The closest redcloak came straight to us, and when he reached Kun, he bowed. He was not as old as we were, but he was not exactly young, either. His frame was impressive, and he wore a short goatee, neatly trimmed, with long hair bundled into a tail that fell just past his shoulders.
“Captain,” he said. “How may I serve?”
Kun turned to the two of us. “This is Tou, one of my lieutenants,” he said cheerfully. “Tou, please meet Albern of the family Telfer, and Mag, and their friend Dryleaf. I have a wager with them, of sorts. They are to be assigned as sergeants, and each is to train a squadron of militia for the coming campaign. If in one week, they can train a fighter who can defeat one of our order in combat, they are allowed to stay on as part of our force. Otherwise, they will have to leave us.”
Tou arched an eyebrow at that. “As you say, ser. I will see to it that they drill hard.”
“Oh, do not trouble yourself overmuch,” said Kun, smiling wider. “They are the ones being put to the test here, not you. After all, I have no cause to doubt your loyalty. But do see to it that they stay out of trouble, will you?”
With that, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away. Tou watched him go for only a moment before turning to us.
“I am Tou of the family Shi,” he said, extending his hand. “Well met, even if in strange circumstance.”
I took his wrist. “Well met indeed,” I said.
“You look to be an archer,” he said, and then turned to Mag. “And I would guess that you prefer to fight up close?”
“Right you are, on both counts,” I said.
“A Calentin archer is always welcome,” he said. “Come. A few of my squadrons lack Mystics to lead them, and I have been trying to manage all of them on my own. Let me introduce them to you.”
He led us through the training grounds at a slow pace, in consideration of Dryleaf. Nearby, rows of stuffed targets had been lined up for archers. Too, several large practice rings had been outlined for sword and spear training.
Many people were hard at practice now, and I saw redcloaks moving among them—Mystics giving instructions and barking orders. Some paused in their duties and hailed Tou, waving, and he always waved back. He looked to be a popular man and a respected one, and I hoped that would bode well for us.
“Our forces number five companies,” Tou went on. “Each company is led by a lieutenant—me, in your case. Lieutenants wield five squadrons of around fifteen, and each squadron is led by a sergeant. Only a handful of the sergeants are Mystics. The rest are veterans of King Jun’s army or former mercenaries.” He grimaced. “Or I suppose I should say returned mercenaries, for they are all taking coin to fight once again.”
“Not the greatest force we have served in, but not the smallest, either,” said Mag. “If Kun
can find a worthy target to point us at, we may be able to do quite some damage to the enemy.”
“That is the hope,” said Tou. He cocked his head. “Though as a matter of etiquette, I must ask that you refer to him as Captain Zhou in the future.”
Mag nodded quickly. “Of course. Our soldiering habits are rusty, but I will endeavor to polish them.”
At last, we came to a stop in front of two groups of people. A gaggle of archers stood to our right, awkwardly firing shafts at the row of targets before them. To the left, some fighters with practice swords and shields were drilling, though their swings were clumsy and slow.
It was our first chance to get a good look at what Kun had to work with, and it was not entirely heartening. Most of these “fighters” looked to be anything but. They were farmers, craftsmen, and shopkeepers. Every so often, I would glimpse the brawny arms and solid frames of blacksmiths or woodsfolk. But they were few and far between, and they were as helpless with their swords as anyone else. Smiths are usually skilled at crafting steel, but not wielding it.
“Green Squadron! Black Squadron!” Tou’s voice ripped through the morning air. “Form up!”
The people around us stopped what they were doing and looked at Tou curiously. One by one, they approached and formed into two ragged lines. They were slow about it, seeming more confused than interested.
“Green Squadron,” said Tou, addressing the swordfighters and waving his hand at Mag. “You have a new sergeant. Her name is Mag, and she will see to your training from now on. Black Squadron, you will now be reporting to Albern of the family Telfer.”
Dryleaf raised a hand. “And where are my soldiers, if I may be so bold?”
That got a chuckle from Tou, as well as from many of the assembled militia. “An oversight on my part, grandfather,” said Tou. “I will find a squadron for you as soon as I am able.” He turned back to Mag and me. “You will report to me at the end of each day. Muster is at dawn every morning, and while we train, your soldiers are expected on duty ten days a week. Any questions?”
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 64
