That was not to say I never had my conflicts with the team. As is no doubt the case today as it was back then, Valaast is a highly controversial Fief, founded by the exiles and criminals the King and his lapdogs sent away to a remote part of the continent. We were the first to nurture sparks of rebellion within his ‘great’ rule, and we certainly will not be the last.
The Legionnaires travelled the path to their next assignment, the group of five talking as they did so. Vuvitsky observed that, unlike back in the Steel Army, Legionnaires typically were more relaxed. He certainly knew that had he attempted to start a conversation back then he’d be reprimanded for breaking the silence.
Whereas here there did not seem to be such a worry over discipline. Ulovistin and Zuvistov joked, with the occasional grunt of agreement or acknowledgement from Sudogostin behind them. Only their Captain, Kinujitev, maintained silence as he lead the group to their next destination.
And here was Vuvitsky, writing it all down. He couldn’t remember when he started to chronicle his career in the military. And he definitely could not tell anyone exactly why he started, either. One day, he just went and bought a bound sheaf of parchment—slightly costly at the time—and wrote whatever had occurred to him in the day.
First it was little snippets of notes and thoughts he had wanted to remember. Then it had turned to musings and poetry. He never kept the poetry after he gave up on it. Eventually he settled on writing the notable events of the day. Ever since, one could always see Vuvitsky writing on his little notebook, dipping the quill in the small, portable inkwell he kept on his belt.
Another thing Vuvitsky noticed was Sudogostin sending strange looks his way. He had distanced himself slightly from the woman ever since her cold greeting. It had immediately put a rocky start to their partnership, but the Laastian hoped they could reconcile their differences.
Even if she was a self righteous Stallen.
“-What do you think, rookie?” Vuvitsky caught the last bit of a question from Ulovistin. Caught off-guard, the medic could respond only one way.
“Hmm?”
“About what we were talking about. What is your opinion?” Both Ulovistin and Zuvistov looked at Vuvitsky expectantly.
Ah. This is awkward. 1
“I…agree?” Vuvitsky ventured, hoping to Oredenno, Skystovar, Zokea and all other deities he could think of that he had not just made a mistake.
“With who?” Zuvistov prompted.
Vuvitsky all but froze in his tracks, though he kept his legs moving to match the pace of the group. He couldn’t ask what their topic of conversation had been now, after he had just claimed to understand it. He couldn’t stay neutral either, he had claimed he agreed with something. Or someone apparently. Desperately, he threw the only line he could think of.
“Whom do you think?”
The two seemed to contemplate this for a long moment, causing Vuvitsky to sweat. Had he made the right choice?
Then Ulovistin and Zuvistov burst out laughing. Vuvitsky concluded that he had either made such a large mistake he would have to hide under a rock for the rest of his days, or that they were simply messing with him.
He decided on the latter, and chuckled appropriately.
“You are so easy, rookie.” Zuvistov said after he had recovered from his bout of laughter.
“Hey, give him some credit.” Ulovistin said. “He did give the right answer.”
“Answer to which question?” Vuvitsky asked.
Both Legionnaires shook their heads. “It’s better if you don’t know.” Ulovistin said.
“Funnier, too.” Zuvistov added. 2
“Not surprised they got you, though.” A voice from the back opined. And like that the jovial atmosphere went quiet. The words had been spoken by the blue Orc, Sudogostin.
“Why aren’t you?” Zuvistov asked, brow raised.
“Well. You know where he’s from.” Sudogostin said, as if that explained everything. What’s unfortunate is that it did explain everything.
“Now, now.” Ulovistin said. “Just because he’s Laastian doesn’t mean he’s the backstabbing criminal you think he is.”
Vuvitsky glared at Sudogostin. So he had not been imagining those contemptuous looks.
“You’re not a neighbor of his ‘Fief’ like I am. Many small conflicts don’t quite reach the western Fiefs, so it is not surprising that you don’t know this.” Sudogostin countered.
“That would be like saying all Stallens are hidebound and grumpy. You’re neith- Well you’re only one of those things.” Zuvistov said.
“You don’t know what his kind have done.”
“My kind?” Vuvitsky had to step up to defend himself at this point. “You truly see my Fief as savages akin to the other continents? Am I truly any worse than a Brassen?”
Sudogostin leveled her gaze at Vuvitsky. “Not quite as bad. Do you truly believe your homeland is a shining beacon of hope? That it isn’t the poor, disorganized band of criminals that is is?”
“Enough.” At last, Kinujitev cut in with an authoritative command. “Sudogostin, stay at the back. Vuvitsky, in front of Ulovistin and Zuvistov. We will not talk about this.”
And like that the argument was ended. But it was far from resolved.
This assignment might not be as good as Vuvitsky had previously thought.
Vuvitsky’s Log, page 32. 0/0/1371-2/3/5, early Primary Cycle (Legion Time)
It is now my third day as an official Legionnaire. As I noted in the previous two entries, my presence among the squad was accepted, excluding one Stallen. While I am surprised they so readily accepted a Laastian in their ranks (though I suppose that their need for a medical expert exceeded any prejudice they may have had) I was not so shocked at Sudogostin’s reaction. Stalle and Valaast have long since been uneasy neighbors at the best of times. I have went to war for the Steel King, yes. But I have also raised a weapon at my own supposed countrymen more than once. Sometimes it was them sending raids to root out ‘apostates’, sometimes it was us sending raids for supplies. Sudogostin had not been entirely wrong in her assessment that we have more criminals than most.
But who does she think is to blame for that?
Even now, writing of our interaction is not good for my nerves, I nearly crushed the quill just now. Another topic then. The mission, or Mission if I were to give it the respect it is supposedly due.
Captain Kinujitev has not revealed to us much information so far, which I am told is par for the course. The Captain himself doesn’t know the entirety of the mission, saying it was ‘a special task of utmost importance’ that needed to be done urgently on request of a minor Earl.
Call it classic Laastian pessimism, but I somehow doubt that it is that important. As the mission is located in Stalle, anything could constitute as urgent by any of the Stallen nobility. Not to mention the clergy, as well.
But it is vital that we carry through anyway, as the politics of this request is not completely lost on me. This Earl is one of the major supporters of our ongoing minor war with the Musarens, those reptilians freaks from the Brass Empire. She supplies many fighting men and women for the effort, along with generous donations of Volnins3
But just because I understand it, does not mean I have to like it. Which happens to be the unofficial motto of the Steel Army, at least the regiment I was in back before my promotion. I miss the friends I made in battle. But what I do not miss are all the uptight Stallens and Vollens looking down on me. Not that many came to our part of the world.
But I digress. What we do know of the mission is as follows. We have an important place we will need to protect, as an important event is happening at the time and extra security is needed. We assume it is a diplomatic event, or at least something that will bolster the ranks of the Steel Armies.
We are nearly there, Ulovistin is signaling for me to put away my notes. This is Vuvitsky, signing off for now.
The team of Legionnaires slowed their steady march, having arrived at their destination. In their sights was a manor. It was a large mansion, two stories, with the old, stone-hewn architecture of the 700s that nobles liked to live in so much. The front entrance of the mansion was being led to by a long winding path of paved stone, with small thin trees lining either side of it. The trees danced literally, if slowly, having been crossbred and domesticated from the wild migratory trees through hard work and many Volnins to achieve this simple effect.
The back of the mansion had a massive garden, easily three times the squared area of the the mansion itself. Working fountains, gargoyles and grotesques were littered liberally throughout, forming an impression of a menagerie of the stone creatures living in coexistence with the Steelics currently in the garden. And far be it for anyone to neglect to mention the winds, too weak to be a hindrance, but just strong enough to give a cooling breeze that granted relief from the relentless Sun. This wind was no doubt made by hired Talented on standby, whose entire jobs are simply to make the area of the manor to be as pleasant as possible for the people living there.
And should anyone tire of the man-made architecture and luxury of this Earl’s holdings, they could simply wander on a path in the garden that led directly into the forests, their safety assured by frequent patrols carried out by gamekeepers.
Overall, the whole land gave the impression of a stark, minimal approach to the mansion, and a decadent garden. Currently, there were quite a number of people touring the garden, talking to each other. Each and every one of them wore fancy, expensive clothing with the exception of their armed and armored retinue.4 Ulovistin promptly ruined the picturesque sight with a groan.
“Don’t tell me we are showing up as trophies again.” She complained plaintively.
“If we are, then it’s an honor.” Sudogostin said, with a smile. “But it also means we don’t have to risk our necks.”
“I know that,” Ulovistin countered. “But it’s so tiresome. We’ve had a thousand such assignments—”
“Three.”
“And every one of them ended with us either sleeping with boredom—”
“Just you and Zuv.”
“Or setting fire to the curtains for entertainment.”
“Again, that was you and Zuv, and that was only one time.”
Ulovistin was suspiciously silent for a moment.
“Yes. It was only one time.”
The blue Orc seemed mildly concerned for a moment, before seeming to decide that it was Kinujitev’s problem and not hers. Vuvitsky mentally nodded in approval of the masterful display of ‘not my problem’.
“Look alive, people.” Kinujitev warned, turning back to glancing back to address the group. “We still don’t know it’s a trophy-mission, but I want us to look our best regardless. That means no wandering off on your own without good reason, no fights with the locals, and most certainly not getting anywhere near anything flammable. Is that clear?”
His question was met with a chorus of ‘Understood’ and one ‘Message received’ from a certain Legionnaire.
After a few more minutes, they finally started on the path to the front entrance of the mansion, eventually reaching the front doors. Kinujitev knocked on the large double doors (also made of stone), the resonance of the hollow doors carrying to the inside of the building. Not half a minute later, the doors were opened from the inside to reveal a man in an exquisite suit. The woman who greeted them was clearly the butler working for the Earl, and was the one who managed the household affairs. One of them now being the Steel Legionnaires.
“Ah, greetings Captain Kinujitev. My Earl has been expecting you, please come in.”
As the group trod in—some of them studiously wiping their dirty boots outside at the butler’s not-so-subtle look—the butler continued talking. “Please allow me to lead you to a suitable room for you to wait. Will anyone want any refreshments, perhaps?”
Zuvistov made to raise his hand, but was discretely kicked in the shins by Sudogostin.
“Thank you for the offer, but we will have to decline.” Kinujitev’s words were at a stark contrast with his rough, authoritative voice, but the butler seemed to accept the diplomatic words for what they were and led them up some stairs. After winding through some confusing corridors, they came to a room apparently built for having business deals conducted in it. Rather appropriate given the nature of their visit.
By the time a distinguished looking Orc, possibly the Earl, came in followed by the butler and two other attendants, the group were lounging around having been bored after the first ten minutes of waiting. Vuvitsky and Kinujitev had opted to sit on the rather comfortable couch, one of the only concessions to comfort in the manor. Ulovistin and Zuvistov were playing some imaginative form of gambling, drawing cards off in a secluded corner of the room where they had dragged a few spare chairs. And finally, Sudogostin was leaning against a wall, fast asleep.
Before the Earl could so much as admonish the Legionnaires, the butler coughed loudly into her hand. This prompted Kinujitev and Vuvitsky to rise from their seats, one more smoothly than the other. The Human duo silently cursed as they were surprised and accidentally knocked a chair over. As they were standing back up at attention, Sudogostin quietly woke up and walked to stand beside the Captain.
While the last two Legionnaires decided to follow Sudogostin’s example, the Earl decided to address the group. She began, in an annoyingly saccharine voice. Or at least as saccharine as the deep Orc vocal cords could allow.
“Greetings, one and all! You must surely be the accomplished warriors I asked for?”
Kinujitev bowed his head before replying. “Indeed we are, Earl. We would be happy to know how we may best serve you.”
What followed was a long conversation littered with diplomacy and sweet words. Vuvitsky glazed over at one point, having no doubt that Ulovistin and Zuvistov had also lost their attention. The long and short of the conversation by the time the Earl—apparently known as Earl Zugich—had bade her farewells to their Captain was the following. The Earl was hosting a party among her noble peers, hoping to drum up support and resources for the ongoing war between Ortkoverny5
Every the patriot that she was, Earl Zugich wanted them to be generally present at the party, with at least two Legionnaires guarding her at all times while the rest made ‘a show of the Steel King’s right hand’. She had claimed that the sight of such imposing figures would drive the hesitant nobles to give both able warriors and money.
Vuvitsky suspected she just wanted to show off. If it had not been for her numerous donations, he doubted the Steel Legion would have even heard her out.
As the Earl and her retinue left the room, Kinujitev turned to the group. “I will be taking first watch over her. Who will join me?”
“Not it.” Ulovistin said with the speed of a soldier abandoning a suicide charge.
“Not it.” Zuvistov responded with just as much alacrity, only a beat behind Ulovistin.
“Not doing it.” Sudogostin said as well.
Vuvitsky, who had not been briefed on this way of handling personnel decisions, sighed. “I’ll do it.”
“That’s our rookie.” Ulovistin patted him consolingly as Kinujitev rolled his eyes at the overly dramatic display. “That’s our rookie.”
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Footnotes
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A great many things could be said of my past self, especially compared to the person I became today. Chief among them would be my skill, or lack thereof, in the ways of the charismatic, or being good with words in general. ↩
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I regret to say that I have never found out what the entire nature of that joke was, or I would have recorded it for posterity. ↩
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Volnins were the old currency of the Steel Kingdom, at the time being used continent-wide. Each Fief hadn’t had the initiative to coin their own currencies yet, claiming that it was not needed as they were each united under the kingdom. ↩
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While coming to a party or event with a retinue that was armed and clad in armor might be offensive to the sensibilities of today, back then it was perfectly normal if not expected to bring such a retinue. In Stallen high society, and in some Nikkan and Kovernic circles as well, a large part of the noble’s reputation rested on how they chose to equip their retinue, as they not only function as attendants but also capable warriors. It was as unthinkable to show up with an unarmed retinue as it was to show up without appropriate dress. ↩
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Ortkoverny was the fifth Fief at the time, similar in many respects to Stalle. It no longer exists today as it was destroyed by my own hand but twenty years from that event. ↩