Fayroll
Book Four
Gong and Chalice
Copyright © 2017 Litworld Ltd. (http://litworld.info)
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CONTENTS:
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS:
FAYROLL 5
Chapter One
In which the hero makes two decisions.
“What’s on your mind, friend?”
An older half-orc looked at me through one of the building’s windows. He was wearing a brightly colored coat and had a short sword hanging at his side.
“Just wondering if it would be a good idea to join the Free Companies,” I replied. “I’m not sure if I’m a good fit.”
“What are we talking through the window for?” The half-orc gestured me toward the door. “Come on in, son, and we can talk it out together.”
I walked in. If it has to do with the military, it really is all the same. The only difference between the building I was in and my old enlistment office was that there were large paintings on the walls in place of posters. But the idea was the same: faster, farther, higher.
“Welcome to the Wild Brigade Recruitment Center,” the half-orc said, walking out into the corridor. “It’s a great spot to find something worthwhile and interesting to keep you busy for a year, two, or even more, depending on the contract we sign. Fond memories and fascinating adventures are guaranteed.”
The half-orc walked over to me, his right foot dragging a little, and held out his hand.
“Sergeant Rourk, son. Free Company veteran. What’s your name?”
“Laird Hagen of Tronje, third son of my father.” I shook his hand.
“Third son.” The sergeant shook his head knowingly. “A blade, some clothes, and an old nag is all you got when your old man kicked the bucket, am I right? I’ve heard that story before. You were made for us, my friend. Consider yourself at home. A little service under your belt, and your oldest brother will have nothing on you. You’ll march back to your Tronje with money and loot, and all he’ll be able to do is gnaw his toenails in envy!”
He was overselling his case, I thought. Sure, his job was to get volunteers signed up, but the whole thing sounded too good to be true.
“That’s all well and good,” I replied, smiling at the sergeant, “but I still have some questions. I’d like to know what the conditions are—how much you pay, how it works, when I’d start, what I get besides the pay, and where I’d be serving.”
A hint of disappointment flashed across the sergeant’s eyes, presumably when he realized I wasn’t as easy a prospect as he first thought. Come on, his eyes said, why do these rednecks have to be so picky these days? Things aren’t the way they used to be, now that you have to explain the whole thing, show them, let them try it out…
“That is your legal right, son,” the half-orc said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Let’s head over to my office.”
Rourk walked toward the door he’d stepped out of. I heard his right leg scrape with each stride—a prosthetic limb. What a great advertisement for the Free Companies he is…
Once in the office, which was scantily furnished with a table, two chairs, and a lone wardrobe, Sergeant Rourk motioned toward a chair and jumped into his spiel about life in the Free Companies.
He was obviously painting a picture with brighter colors than he may have had license to use, but his story was interesting enough to see why the Free Companies weren’t such a bad place to be.
The Wild Brigade formed almost immediately after the gods left Fayroll. The problem was that many gods, in their feuding over the hearts and souls of their flocks, threw caution, morals, and ethics to the wind. They created and unleashed a variety of undead and other evil spirits into the world in order to weaken the forces commanded by their opponents.
The gods left Fayroll, though their malicious creations did not. And, given the fact that some of the gods both erroneously and presumptuously considered themselves more demiurges than gods, their creatures began to multiply. Some of them attained such numbers that the threat of genocide began to loom over the humanoid races.
That’s when the Fayroll rulers realized how bad things were and rallied all the heroes of Rattermark to come save them. However, the War of Magic and the Second War of Hatred had left the continent largely bereft of those heroes. The ones who remained were tired of wandering the lands saving people and simply dreamed of having their own little kingdom they could rule in peace.
As time went on, the situation only worsened. Roads become more and more dangerous, and villages and even small cities were subject to constant attacks by bloodthirsty beasts. But then, something unexpected happened.
Richard the Fifth, also called Richard the Spiritual, the ruler of the West, had an advisor by the name of Arman Plessy, and Arman came up with a plan. He drew up a decree, signed by the king, that declared even the most hardened criminals had the right to leniency under the law—including a reprieve from the executioner’s noose or axe—if they spent three years fighting to protect peaceful people by clearing the roads, forests, and swamps of the departed gods’ evil spawn. If they did their jobs well and honestly, a royal pardon, a plot of land, and a loan to develop it waited for them on the other side. Professional soldiers and royal veterans were put in charge of the rabble.
Strange as it may seem, the decree turned out to be hugely popular. Plenty of murderers and other societal cancers signed up for the adjustment squad (as the Wild Brigade was first called), and they fought fervently and diligently. Small groups of them traveled the West looking for and destroying the magic scourge born in the inhuman minds of NPCs and the imagination of the developers. They even dealt a blow to the vermin native to Fayroll, figuring sensibly that they’d have to take care of them sooner or later—so what did it matter?
Ten or fifteen years later, all the more exotic creatures living in the West had been dispatched to the next world, though the Wild Brigade stuck around. They were growing, and even swelling their ranks with people who had no criminal past. The Sultan of the East and the princes of the South happily paid the former thugs in gold to take care of their problems. The northerners, who all knew how to handle a weapon, took care of their problems themselves.
Adventurers, former soldiers, and even romantics signed on to serve in the Wild Brigade, as it had come to be known. The pay was good; recruits were taught how to fight well; and retirement meant honor and respect since city guards all around Rattermark hired veterans whose service time was up. Pl
us, while land was no longer part of the offer, the royal pardon was. The Wild Brigade remained under the jurisdiction of the king of the West, though it became, in practice, an independent unit paying 10% of each contract amount to the king. Recruits also began to be divided by how they signed up: new volunteers from the prisons were assigned to the Wild Brigade as usual, while civilians made their way to the Free Companies. The latter were still part of the Wild Brigade; they just enjoyed more privileges and a somewhat different status. There were ten Free Companies with 100 troops in each.
It was the Free Companies Sergeant Rourk was trying to get me to sign up for. He scraped his wooden leg around, waved his arms, and described all the tempting prospects I had to look forward to. In a year, not to mention three, the Free Companies would make me more a superhero than a man. He skipped over what their casualty rates were, obviously, but I couldn’t help but note that the companies always had slots open regardless of the fact that there were only 1,000 of them in total.
“I have a question,” I said.
The sergeant looked at me, amazed that I wasn’t racing to sign the contract after all the information he’d dumped on me.
“How do I sign on with a company heading down to fight in the South?”
“Why the South?” His look turned to confusion.
“Just a dream I’ve always had—seeing the South,” I said, rolling my eyes wistfully. “It’s warm, there are plenty of exotic fruits, and they say the girls are stunning.”
“All true,” the sergeant grunted. “Also, the beasts are poisonous, the jungles are impassable, there are lots of cursed areas, and the diseases are nasty. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Absolutely,” I replied resolutely. “It’s either the South or I won’t be signing anything. I have plenty of other things to do, needless to say. But let’s go back to those conditions, too. What are they?”
“We can send you south, that’s easy enough. The Seventh Company is heading to Dinjir the day after tomorrow, and I think they have slots open. But about the conditions… You get 50 gold per week, food, a uniform, a weapon if you don’t have one, and medicine or a funeral if you need it. One day off a week. If you sign a three-year contract, we pay out 500 gold as a bonus each year.”
“Sounds good. And what are the requirements?”
The half-orc glanced at me approvingly. “It’s simple; follow orders quickly, exactly, and on time. Do the work, and don’t be a coward in battle. That’s it.”
“Right, soldiers shouldn’t think too much; they have to fight,” I agreed. “So everyone’s heading south the day after tomorrow.”
Rourk nodded.
“One more question,” I said, having just about forgotten to ask it. “What about terminating contracts with the Free Companies? You know, if it just isn’t working out. Can you do that?”
“That doesn’t happen very often,” the sergeant said with a shrug, “though it does happen. The only way out of the Wild Brigade, of course, is to get dumped back in prison. You can buy your way out of the Free Companies, on the other hand, though it isn’t cheap. There’s a one-time fee of 50,000 gold.”
Fifty thousand gold? Well, that’s serious money, and it means I’d better give this some serious thought.
“What time are you rolling out the day after tomorrow?”
“Ten in the morning. But we’d have to sign the contract first, so come at least half an hour earlier.”
“Rourk, let’s say this,” I responded, pounding the table with my open palm. “If I decide to join, I’ll be here at nine the day after tomorrow. If I’m not here, that means I decided against it. Does that work for you?”
The half-orc nodded. “You’re obviously an experienced warrior,” he said flatteringly. “Of course, you need to think. This is the army, not a walk in the park.”
We got up and shook hands.
***
The smell of pies and something else delicious met me at home.
“What’s this for?” I asked Vika in surprise, finding her running around the kitchen covered in flour.
“Did you forget?” She stared at me reproachfully. “I told you on Tuesday that Elmira would be coming today. You’re the one who wanted to do this, after all.”
I searched my memory, but couldn’t come up with anything. She probably had told me, and I just hadn’t paid much attention. I did remember my suggestion to invite her over. But whatever, it doesn’t matter.
“Oh, right!” I smacked my forehead, not wanting to upset Vika. “I should probably go pick her up, right?”
“She’ll find her own way,” Vika responded peremptorily. “She’s a big girl.”
“Whatever you say, sweetie.” I had no desire to get in the middle of what was clearly a complex relationship. “What do you need me to do?”
“Stay out of my way. Here, grab a few pies and go relax in the other room.”
That was more than good enough for me, so I obeyed happily.
To be honest, I wasn’t a big fan of family get-togethers. Sure, it looked great in the movies when you had a huge family all drinking tea together, shooting the breeze, and sharing all their joys and sorrows with each other. That may have been common twenty or thirty years before and may still have gone on in some patriarchal corner of smaller cities, but not in the capital, with its high-speed way of life, disconnection, and drive to earn as much sweet moolah as you could while leaving as little as possible for everyone else. In that context, even family ties could hold you back.
Hunting alone, or at least in pairs, made survival a much better proposition. That was why even small families only got together for major holidays, and it was why family clans had all but disappeared. There were some families that stuck together, but that was just for Timur Kizyakov [1]and his umpteen years of dropping by strange homes. They only agreed to let him in because it was their one brief moment of televised fame. In my case, while I sort of knew my cousins, I had no idea who there was beyond them… It was nothing to be proud of—just a sign of the times.
Vika’s sister turned out to be an excellent young woman. She was attractive, had a decent sense of humor, and wasn’t nearly as obsessed with the game as I’d heard, at least judging by the fact that she didn’t mention it once. Fayroll didn’t even come up once in our conversation, save for a mention of where Vika and I worked. Elmira was happy to talk about her career as a teacher, and she enjoyed listening to and laughing at our journalism stories. (They were mostly mine, as Vika hadn’t been in the field long enough to build up a supply of her own. But I knew another year or two working with our three stooges, and especially Yushkov, would more than do the trick.) The only thing that surprised me was that she turned down all the alcohol I offered, and even quite sharply. Vika just nodded slightly when I looked at her in surprise. Am I missing something? Anyway, if she didn’t want any, she didn’t have to drink it.
“All right, I’m going to run,” Elmira said a few hours later. “My sister’s in good hands, so I can relax.”
“Oh, because you were just so worried!” Vika clapped her hands to her face. “You probably even stayed awake at night thinking about me.”
Elmira rolled her eyes in appreciation of her little sister’s attitude.
“You poor guy, Harriton. I put in my time, and now it’s your turn to live with her. Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind before it’s too late? You could still tell her to take a hike,” she said to me.
“Oh, come on,” I smiled. “I’ve seen it all; you can’t scare me.”
“Are you sure?” Elmira squinted. “There’s always something.”
“Elmira, stop it,” Vika scowled. “You’ve been on me since we were kids.”
“Let me drive you home,” I said to Elmira, catching a note of frustration in Vika’s voice. It looked like she’d been on pins and needles all evening, and I’d caught her frowning once when her sister laughed uproariously at one of my stories. I had a sneaking suspicion that she was regretting t
aking me up on my offer to invite Elmira over.
“That would be great, especially since it looks like it’s raining,” Elmira replied, giving in without a fight.
Vika pursed her lips, though she didn’t say anything.
***
Elmira sat down in the back seat of the car, which did surprise me a little. I was about to go open the front door for her when she opened the back one and plopped herself down.
“I don’t like sitting up front,” she explained, “not since I was a kid.”
Fall that year was cold, with just a hint of an Indian summer; a few sunny days before we jumped back into the constant wind and rain. Sometimes, it was a drizzle; others, it was a downpour, but it felt like there was always something coming down. There were also the gray storm clouds hanging low over the earth and blocking out the sun.
“I’m so tired of those clouds,” Elmira said suddenly. “They’re the worst.”
“Agreed,” I responded. “I can’t remember the last time we saw the sun.”
“It isn’t just that there’s no sun. They’re always there hanging over you, it’s so depressing. And there aren’t any stars. Do you like looking at the stars?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “It’s been a while. Too much to do, I guess.”
“Well, why don’t we go to the planetarium and check them out? It’s so romantic, taking a girl to the planetarium. Unusual. I mean, we could go to the movies, or maybe a museum—we could go see a mammoth tusk. But going to the planetarium is much more unusual.” There was a bitter irony in Elmira’s voice, though it morphed quickly into sarcasm.
The Army taught me to be ready for anything; my job taught me to think on my feet; and the previous few months had left me incapable of surprise—and that was a good thing. If things had been different, the steering wheel might have slipped out of my hands. I heard my own words thrown back at me largely unchanged from the way I’d said them to a certain neurotic woman a week before. And they say Moscow’s a big city…
I probably should have said something like, “Wait, that’s you!” or “Oh, my God, what a coincidence!” But that type of thing just happens in cheap romance novels.
Fayroll [04] Gong and Chalice Page 1
