“While the tradition of generals and leaders leading their men from the front has slowly died out in the military of many kingdoms, it remained a staple amongst mercenary companies. Mercenaries were a rougher, freer sort compared to soldiers. A mercenary captain who was unwilling to do what he commanded his men to would very quickly lose respect, if not outright deposed.
For this reason, most mercenary captains joined their crew in the frontlines personally, or in cases of a family-run establishment where the leader had grown old and weak, have their progeny take their place in the frontlines. This willingness to shed blood together, or at least risk their own loved ones, was what engendered respect from their fellow mercenaries.” - Addison Zephyr, former mercenary, later employed as a strategist for the Free City of Levain, circa 102 FP.
“Bernd! Ignaz! You two keep watch on the front door!” commanded Elfriede. Her small group of six - herself included - had just barged into the building they spotted the bald man at. The six experienced mercenaries had swiftly gone to work as they slaughtered the fifteen or so thugs at the ground floor. The two she called out had taken light injuries in the fight, so she opted to leave them behind to guard the door.
“Therese, Silva, you two search this floor, see if you can find anyone hiding or a back door of some kind. There’s bound to be one in a building this large,” she commanded another two. The building the thug leader - Uthgar was the name, she believed - had commanded from seemed to be a large tavern once upon a time, probably with more luxurious accomodations at the top floor, since those are usually the only ones with balconies in areas like these. Buildings like those always had a back door, in her experience.
“Olyvee, you’re with me,” she said to the last member of their group, a half-elven woman who looked to be her age. Olyvee was Goran’s younger sister, and had been hankering to kill people ever since her niece got hurt so badly back at Fort Ascher. She was one of the more veteran members of the Lances and one of their more skilled fighters as well.
The woman nodded and followed Elfriede as she ran up the stairs. Both of them kept their weapons in hand, Elfriede with her blades and Olyvee with a pair of long knives that had wicked hooked ends. They were thicker than Elfriede’s blades, sharpened only on one side and clearly designed for chopping.
On the second floor they encountered a group of eight thugs, who had run down from the upper floors, and both women wordlessly struck out at the surprised thugs, who had probably never expected their compatriots downstairs to be overwhelmed so quickly.
Elfriede had lunged forward and pierced straight through the throats of two of the thugs before they could react, and she opened the wounds even wider as she tore her blades out to the sides. Both men collapsed on their knees as they feebly tried to clutch at the lifeblood flowing out from their throats.
Olyvee hurled one of her knives straight into the middle of a surprised thug’s forehead, the hooked end of the heavy blade going deep into the man’s brains. She chopped the head off another man as she passed and yanked her thrown blade out even as the dead thug began to fall backwards.
Each of them took on two of the remaining four thugs without much difficulties. Their opponents were thugs and cutthroats, criminals used to violence, even killing. Yet they were mercenaries. Violence was their trade, and killing was how they earned their living. A few amateur muscles were not even close to a match for them.
“Upstairs. Three people just ran towards a room to our south right above us,” replied Elfriede after she pulled her blades out from the guts of the last thug who was busy dying painfully from his many perforated organs. Olyvee wordlessly nodded and made for the stairs together with her.
Elfriede had noticed the small group’s passing during their fight with her senses, as she could sense the entirety of a ten-meter radius orb around her so long as the air flowed in those areas. They caught the small group - including the bald man they were after - just as they ran into one of the rooms.
The room had a window facing the street, and the three were opening the window while one tied a length of rope to it. Two of them turned around and drew swords as the bald man squeezed his large frame through the window and used the rope to rappel his way down as fast as he could.
“I’ll handle these two,” said Olyvee curtly as she cut in front of Elfriede and caught both thugs’ swords with her knives. “You go get him. You’d fit easier through that window than me.”
“Got it,” replied Elfriede. What Olyvee said made sense. The half-elven woman was nearly two meters tall, and was broad of shoulder, which made it harder for her to squeeze through the rather small window. “I’ll give you a share of the bounty when we cashed him out.”
Elfriede was not worried in the least for the woman’s safety. Even if those two thugs were better than the rest they fought so far, they were not that good, and were quickly put on the backfoot against the half-elven woman. She herself checked out the situation below with her senses, and noticed that the bald man was just about to reach the ground.
Instead of rappelling down the rope like he did, Elfriede struck the wooden shutter of the window shoulder-first and broke it as she leapt out. She did a half-spin in the air and landed on her feet, facing the surprised bald man even as she flexed her legs to absorb the landing.
The bald man looked left and right in panic, only to see his men being routed by Reinhardt as well as the dwarves, and as he realized that his only way out was through Elfriede, he charged at her with a bellow, an axe in his hand.
Elfriede deflected the axe with one of her blades, even as she spun around and sliced through the man’s wrists - deep enough to sever his tendons - with the other. At the same time one of her legs kicked out against his left knee, hard enough to break the joint and force it to bend backwards.
The bald man screamed in agony as she stomped down on his other knee with the heel of her boot. Sure, the crown prince asked for him alive, but he definitely said nothing about him being in good health… or in one piece for that matter.
[Author] If you enjoy this story, please consider leaving a rating or review to help it gain more exposure, thank you! Or help support the author by leaving a tip!
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“While the tradition of generals and leaders leading their men from the front has slowly died out in the military of many kingdoms, it remained a staple amongst mercenary companies. Mercenaries were a rougher, freer sort compared to soldiers. A mercenary captain who was unwilling to do what he commanded his men to would very quickly lose respect, if not outright deposed.
For this reason, most mercenary captains joined their crew in the frontlines personally, or in cases of a family-run establishment where the leader had grown old and weak, have their progeny take their place in the frontlines. This willingness to shed blood together, or at least risk their own loved ones, was what engendered respect from their fellow mercenaries.” - Addison Zephyr, former mercenary, later employed as a strategist for the Free City of Levain, circa 102 FP.
“Bernd! Ignaz! You two keep watch on the front door!” commanded Elfriede. Her small group of six - herself included - had just barged into the building they spotted the bald man at. The six experienced mercenaries had swiftly gone to work as they slaughtered the fifteen or so thugs at the ground floor. The two she called out had taken light injuries in the fight, so she opted to leave them behind to guard the door.
“Therese, Silva, you two search this floor, see if you can find anyone hiding or a back door of some kind. There’s bound to be one in a building this large,” she commanded another two. The building the thug leader - Uthgar was the name, she believed - had commanded from seemed to be a large tavern once upon a time, probably with more luxurious accomodations at the top floor, since those are usually the only ones with balconies in areas like these. Buildings like those always had a back door, in her experience.
“Olyvee, you’re with me,” she said to the last member of their group, a half-elven woman who looked to be her age. Olyvee was Goran’s younger sister, and had been hankering to kill people ever since her niece got hurt so badly back at Fort Ascher. She was one of the more veteran members of the Lances and one of their more skilled fighters as well.
The woman nodded and followed Elfriede as she ran up the stairs. Both of them kept their weapons in hand, Elfriede with her blades and Olyvee with a pair of long knives that had wicked hooked ends. They were thicker than Elfriede’s blades, sharpened only on one side and clearly designed for chopping.
On the second floor they encountered a group of eight thugs, who had run down from the upper floors, and both women wordlessly struck out at the surprised thugs, who had probably never expected their compatriots downstairs to be overwhelmed so quickly.
Elfriede had lunged forward and pierced straight through the throats of two of the thugs before they could react, and she opened the wounds even wider as she tore her blades out to the sides. Both men collapsed on their knees as they feebly tried to clutch at the lifeblood flowing out from their throats.
Olyvee hurled one of her knives straight into the middle of a surprised thug’s forehead, the hooked end of the heavy blade going deep into the man’s brains. She chopped the head off another man as she passed and yanked her thrown blade out even as the dead thug began to fall backwards.
Each of them took on two of the remaining four thugs without much difficulties. Their opponents were thugs and cutthroats, criminals used to violence, even killing. Yet they were mercenaries. Violence was their trade, and killing was how they earned their living. A few amateur muscles were not even close to a match for them.
“Upstairs. Three people just ran towards a room to our south right above us,” replied Elfriede after she pulled her blades out from the guts of the last thug who was busy dying painfully from his many perforated organs. Olyvee wordlessly nodded and made for the stairs together with her.
Elfriede had noticed the small group’s passing during their fight with her senses, as she could sense the entirety of a ten-meter radius orb around her so long as the air flowed in those areas. They caught the small group - including the bald man they were after - just as they ran into one of the rooms.
The room had a window facing the street, and the three were opening the window while one tied a length of rope to it. Two of them turned around and drew swords as the bald man squeezed his large frame through the window and used the rope to rappel his way down as fast as he could.
“I’ll handle these two,” said Olyvee curtly as she cut in front of Elfriede and caught both thugs’ swords with her knives. “You go get him. You’d fit easier through that window than me.”
“Got it,” replied Elfriede. What Olyvee said made sense. The half-elven woman was nearly two meters tall, and was broad of shoulder, which made it harder for her to squeeze through the rather small window. “I’ll give you a share of the bounty when we cashed him out.”
Elfriede was not worried in the least for the woman’s safety. Even if those two thugs were better than the rest they fought so far, they were not that good, and were quickly put on the backfoot against the half-elven woman. She herself checked out the situation below with her senses, and noticed that the bald man was just about to reach the ground.
Instead of rappelling down the rope like he did, Elfriede struck the wooden shutter of the window shoulder-first and broke it as she leapt out. She did a half-spin in the air and landed on her feet, facing the surprised bald man even as she flexed her legs to absorb the landing.
The bald man looked left and right in panic, only to see his men being routed by Reinhardt as well as the dwarves, and as he realized that his only way out was through Elfriede, he charged at her with a bellow, an axe in his hand.
Elfriede deflected the axe with one of her blades, even as she spun around and sliced through the man’s wrists - deep enough to sever his tendons - with the other. At the same time one of her legs kicked out against his left knee, hard enough to break the joint and force it to bend backwards.
The bald man screamed in agony as she stomped down on his other knee with the heel of her boot. Sure, the crown prince asked for him alive, but he definitely said nothing about him being in good health… or in one piece for that matter.
[Author] If you enjoy this story, please consider leaving a rating or review to help it gain more exposure, thank you! Or help support the author by leaving a tip!
Read ahead on my Patreon! For 5$ a month patrons will gain early access of up to 10 chapters ahead, or for 10$ a month, gain early access of up to 25 chapters ahead!
Or you can subscribe to all my stories and get a 10% discount on the price!
For every 15 cumulative new patrons in the Free Mage/Free Archmage/Magus/Archmagus tier I get in a month, from the next month onwards the respective patreon tiers will receive +5/+10 chapters permanently, until we reach my usual 25/55 chapters ahead!
Join the Discord for silly stuff and chat with us![/author]
