Steel Melody

Part 11:

That night was a cause for celebration back at camp. It had taken the remainder of the day for the troupe to carry off all the wealth they could, and by then the sun had left them and they could only rest in the cold of night. It was the largest score any had seen, and it glowed heavenly in the dim light of campfires. The coins smelt of freshly shaped metal and the aroma of fresh cut paper gave the troupe a high.

"Managed to cut through three inch steel. Feff. A myth!" Judas shouted when Heartrik had handed him his dented elbow plates as the black smith beat out a melody against steel.

Toasts were raised in the name of Lertz, but more were raised to Marrow, their proud leader who had led them to such salvation. On top of the fine smells, beer and wine and other bitter drinks nestled in the electric, stinging guitar riffs which lit the environment. The majority of the troupe had gathered at a large campfire in the centre of camp. They were high off of the smell of abundant wealth and looted fine wines and they danced and sang, as the music from the forge rang. The chef had done his best to create a fine feast with what he had, but still they mostly just ate simple bread, cheese and poultry and crabs of all kinds hunted from the nearby area. The wine made everything taste better, especially the wine looted from the officers cabinet of the convoy. Monster tarts were also found within the officers quarters, and he was given a portion for being their leader's son, but none complained that night after his effort in the battle. A delicacy in both nations, eaten only by the highest and wealthiest. Supposedly the glazed pillowy texture would melt in one's mouth like nothing else. When Heartrik took a bite he was deceived into thinking it tasted like less than nothing only to realise just what he was eating, and what it meant and what it afforded, for some taste of the echelons and high life to fill his mouth and senses. It was overpowering and sweet all at that moment.

Heartrik also celebrated in his own little way. He tucked himself away at the verge of the camp and forest, and settled upon a branch at the rear. There were some benefits to being unpopular. When not many folk liked you, they refused to pay close attention, allowing the dregs of the world to sulk around unnoticed. In this particular case, whilst his crew drank and cheered surrounding Marrow, preciously rationing the expensive Southern wine, Heartrik easily slipped past and took a whole bottle for himself. During festivities he could drink as much as he liked from a distance and no one would notice him or question where he was, and he had a man's thirst, and all he wanted was to treat this night like a bad dream. He would get drunk more often than most would think. Being drunk was the only time he could feel some of the things he had lost. The machinery would struggle, and at times rare instances of pain meant to be removed would be felt over his skin when he drank. Despite being distant he still enjoyed hearing the stories of his crew from a distance. The chants of old soldiers, the pasts of criminals, tales of jobs successes and failures, he listened keenly for them all. But tonight's talk was more focused on tales regarding their most recent job against the caravan that same day. They all boasted about the grandness of their charge, how many men they slew and the vastness of wealth, and in between hushed whispers they murmured praises about Lertz, the Blackwind. Lertz had captured their minds and his exploits remained fresh in their praises. It was no surprise, Heartrik thought, this man with no name turned up in their hour of need and carried the day in less than a minute. As they fled the Redgate few were confident in Marrow wanting to raid a military caravan. They had little faith and many ran, thinking it was the end of the Scythed Raiders. And then Lertz appeared at their time of need. Heartrik drank and thought of Lertz, near dreaming memories of how he had flown through the air and cut those cannons in two. That figure, Lertz, now seemed legendary to him.

"Drinking kid?" Bren smiled at him.

Heartrik felt no indication of a response.

"I'm glad you're still alive, Lertz must have listened to me when I said to look out for you."