Under the Ashen Banner

Chapter Two: Salvation (Part 2)

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The clanging of hammers on steel drew Neil's attention to blacksmiths at their forges. One sat at a grindstone, sharpening a sword. Another used a pair of tongs to lift a breastplate from the anvil and quench it in a bucket of oil.

A tall woman with chestnut colored hair split firewood on a tree stump.

"Excuse us," came a voice from behind Neil. He jumped out of the way to allow six people in elaborate robes with tall, pointy hats to pass him. With each step they took, the lead tablets hanging from their belts clacked.

"Magicians..." he muttered.

Off to the southeast, he spied what appeared to be the quickest way out of the camp, and the road that no doubt led to a town or city if he followed it long enough. It would have been all too easy for him to simply walk away. Maybe he could start a new life somewhere else. Find a farmer who needed a hard-working hand. Work for wages for once.

The creature in the woods came back to his mind. He never got a good look at her, but something told him she was a spirit, or perhaps a deity, only sensible to him because he was on the brink of death at the time. She gave him a second chance at living, and brought him here, of all places, to recuperate from his injuries. She might have taken him to a farm if the simple life was to be his destiny. Or to a port town, if he was to be a sailor. Instead, she brought him here. He surmised there had to be a reason for that, and he intended to find out what it was.

Wandering about the camp, Neil was completely lost. Soldiers with pikes almost twice as tall as they were passed by, marching in perfect unison. An officer shouted at his recruits in the distance as they nocked new arrows to their bows to shoot at their targets. A man in uniform passed by, linked arm in arm with a striking woman. His wife?

Confused by all that was so new to him, he feared he would never find Sir Garrett in all this.

That was, until he spied the tops of the largest tents in the camp, and knew that must be the center. When he drew near, he spied banners next to each of them. One pictured a dragon with blue scales standing atop a pile of shields. Another pictured a tower struck by lightning. Yet another featured a phoenix rising from a pile of burning skulls.

Finally, Neil laid eyes on a banner that featured a gryphon. He had never seen a basilisk before, nor had he heard of one described, but he assumed the reptilian creature that it devoured must have been a basilisk. The smaller monster looked like a snake with a vulture's head.

Neil drew closer to Sir Garrett's tent, and as he did so the flap opened and out walked the old knight himself. He brushed his teeth with a twig, dipping its bristled ends into a tiny bowl filled with salt and mint leaves. He was clad in a brown tunic with a leather belt around his waist and a pair of sack cloth trousers. Sir Garrett stopped mid-way through a brush stroke and turned to look at Neil.

"Ah," said the old knight. "You're finally awake. I'll have to thank Brother Lemuel for all his hard work."

"How long was I asleep?" Neil asked.

"About three days," the old knight told him. "Here, why don't we talk inside." He gestured for him to follow, and Neil did as he was bid.

Inside the tent was a cot covered in fur blankets, a table with four stools around it, and a large chest at the foot of the cot. Sir Garrett pulled out one of the stools and sat on it, gesturing for Neil to do the same.

Once both men were seated, Sir Garrett asked, "I'm assuming your master had you punished for something?"

Neil gave a silent nod.

Sir Garrett scratched his chin. "I see. Well, last time we spoke, I offered you a chance to join my company. You refused on... 'altruistic' grounds. I don't take kindly to being insulted like that. Even so... if you took a beating like that and survived, either you're stronger than most men, or some powerful spirit favors you. Maybe both. In any event, someone like you could be valuable to the Ashen Banner. So, I'll give you one more chance. Will you join the company?"

Neil thought on Sir Garrett's question. When he approached the tent, he had done so mostly to thank the old knight for saving him. Confronted with this choice, Neil once again found himself bewildered.

"Can we still..." Neil hesitated before continuing. Sir Garrett raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Umm... since you didn't have to spend any money to buy me from my master, can we use that money to buy Garbage, Trash, and Cretin's freedom too?"

"Bah!" Sir Garrett rolled his eyes. "Lad, you need to understand that those three are of no use to the company. If I pulled from the treasury to buy three slaves with no useful skills I wouldn't be a commander much longer."

Neil folded his arms, dissatisfied at this answer. "Master Davaa said I cost him a fortune when I refused to join you. If you were willing to spend that much on me... why is it a waste to buy the others when it wasn't a waste to buy me?"

Sir Garrett waved a dismissive hand. "There are extenuating circumstances you wouldn't understand, lad."

"And they are?" Neil pressed.

Sir Garrett's eyes narrowed. "None of your damn business until you're a grown man. Understand?"

Neil wanted so badly to rise to his feet and sock this old knight in the jaw, but he feared his fingers would break against that square chin. Moreover, a man did not live to old age as a warrior unless he was truly dangerous.

"Don't sulk," Sir Garrett cautioned. "It just proves my point, you're not mature enough to understand yet. Look, it's like I told you, earn enough money on your own and maybe some day you can buy your friends' freedom."

"You couldn't earn enough to buy mine," Neil spat back.

Sir Garrett chuckled. "Fair enough. But that's because I spend my silver on armor, weapons, and investments. If you save yours up instead, you'll get there."

Neil's jaw unclenched. "How much is a mercenary's salary?"

"It depends on a lot of things," said Sir Garrett. "Training, reputation, usefulness. The more use you are, the more you'll make, but your salary's not the only way you'll make money. You get shares of the plunder. Also, prisoner ransoms make a pretty penny that way. Then there are always merchants who could use a little capital to get started on some new business venture. Usury can make you a rich man, Neil."

The more he listened to Sir Garrett, the more it seemed likely that he could, in fact, do as the old knight said. In time, maybe he could go back to Master Davaa's estate and buy all the slaves' freedom. Or, if he could make enough friends within the company, he could go there in force and put his old master to the sword. That prospect was far more tempting. To liberate his fellows while also getting revenge for what was done to him.

"How long will I have to train?" asked Neil.

Sir Garrett chuckled. "Until you're ready. I guess we'll have to figure out just how long that is together, won't we?"

With a slow nod, the newly-freed man said. "I guess so."

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