Dragon Flame | MxM Fantasy

Chapter 1: Fetch

Wystan stares at the wagon stuck in the mud.

The rains have been heavy, as they always are during the spring season, leaving the road treacherous and the air humid. Despite mudslides being arguably more dangerous, their party has avoided one. Weirdly, most of the horses have been enjoying the downpours, almost prancing whenever the torrents hit. Then again, these are the draught breeds that Kyneburga generously donated for Wystan's quest, meaning they are defective in one way or another. She wouldn't bestow her best on a fool's errand.

"Well, bite me!"

"Oh, I will, you witch!"

The longer they stand, the louder and more profane the argument gets. Wystan sighs. They have been dirty and tired for a week, now stuck in the middle of a twisting road, with stippled outcrops and solitary trees to keep them company. By his estimation, they have several leagues before hitting more forested areas and the daylight's burning away anyway.

"I'll fuckin' rip your tongue out, stupid turd!"

"Pfft, if you wan' ta see a turd, 'ave a look in the mirror, Kel."

This is getting ridiculous, Wystan bemoans silently and sweeps in to save at least an ounce of his sanity. Honestly, their choice of words has much to be desired.

"Stop quibbling and get the wagon up and running," he orders with bark in his voice. The usual happy-go-lucky won't cut it with this lot, so he slips on a scowl and hopes for the best.

They look at him in the same manner they do at any disturbance, cautious, ready to fight, whether it's to continue their bickering or to defend if he goes batshit on them, he's not sure. Wystan proceeds to glare and waits.

Gauge looks away first and nods, smarter of the two. Or just easier to get along with. Unlike him, Kelcie is wild and uncontrollable and only pursues her own whims. She does follow her superiors' orders most of the time, and she is a damn competent heavy-hitter, hence why no one ordered her execution. Well, until now.

Part of the Empire's dirty laundry has been sent out on a cleansing. They are officially an experimental squad, unofficially a mercenary unit answering only to those high in command. They are the unit called Lost and have received their last order signed by the Empire. Now Wystan has become their one and only supervisor.

"So, Your Excellency," Kelcie drawls, her sole visible eye sparkling with mischief. 

Of course, the 'Excellency' shit is back. 

"Are we gonna get a reward if we get the wagon outta mud?" she asks after a moment.

"Yes," Wystan replies in a droll tone while observing the way clouds curl in the east. "A hideout from rain. We're setting camp immediately after."

She guffaws loudly, deep from her belly like she always does. With giggles petering out, she turns to address the rest of the mercenaries. "Ya heard the boss!"

Wystan watches them fighting the mud and losing. Even a dozen people don't seem to be enough for a wagon of this size when you take into account the slippery footing. He lets out a heavy sigh, shrugs his personalized army cloak off his shoulders, and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. His right leg is going to hate him after this, but it already aches from all the weather changes, oncoming rainy clouds being the worst cause.

***

They make a camp where the nearby stream curves. Where the trees are more common and the rocks climb higher. Wystan takes cover outside and lets the mercenaries have the wagon. Sturdy tents dot the place.

The night comes and goes, and with it, the rain does too. Wystan sleeps for most of it, trusting the men and women he commands to keep watch. Dawn breaks when he is already packed, the wagon is full and almost ready, and the horses wait with keen stares, bellies appeased from the verdant grass surrounding them.