Mercenary

Mercenary: Preface - A Letter and an Offer

Lord Alexander was worried.

And rightfully so.

His castle and its village had been under attack by raiders nonstop for over a fortnight now. They had but nine and fifty men, whereas two weeks ago they’d had double that. He barely had enough men to cover the nightly guard shifts, and that was without any rests. His men were exhausted from overexertion, and Alexander knew that if they went on much longer than this, it would not only be raiders that would be taking the lives of his men, but rather disease and fatigue.

Alexander paced the strategy room anxiously, his hand running through his hair in worry.

The enemy, though, seemed to have no problems in the way of reinforcements. For every raider his men slew, two more seemed to take their fallen comrade’s place. They were ruthless fighters, and had no preconceptions in regard to honor. They would stab a man in the back if they wished to. His men were falling like flies. And now Cynric, the leader of the raiders, had taken yet another batch of villagers as his prisoners. It was nightmarish here, and their only hope was that the king would send them more knights. Alexander had written the king several times, disclosing the issue, but had received no reply. Raiders were attacking all over the kingdom, it seemed as though nothing could be done.

Despite all this, despite the complete hopelessness of the situation, Alexander knew he could not allow his fief to fall to raiders. Brierwood lay on the edge of the kingdom, right between civilization and the Outlands, and because of that it was a quintessential strategic village. If he allowed his village to fall, more raiders would flood into the kingdom, and they would all be one step closer to falling into chaos.

Alexander sighed deeply and stopped at the large window in the center of the wall before him. It was one of the only windows that looked out onto the village itself, rather than the woods. When he peered down at the crude, handmade houses, he couldn’t help but feel sad. There was so much life here, so much joy in his people. He was only considering what would happen to the kingdom if his village fell, but what of the villagers? There was much the kingdom could lose, but in his own village, in his own home, there was so much more at stake.

 “Alexander!” a voice from behind him called out, breaking him from his revere.

Alexander turned around sharply, but relaxed when he saw it was only Ryder, his best friend and second-in-command.

“Ryder!” Alexander called out half-heartedly. He turned back to the window, the creases of worry still etched clearly on his forehead. It seemed nothing could erase them.

“Is something the matter?” Alexander asked sarcastically, chuckling lightly. Of course something was the matter. Everything seemed to be going wrong. The question was not one that could be answered easily. In fact, the question was not meant to be answered at all.

When Ryder did not answer, Alexander at last turned to face him. Ryder stood unmoving at the strategy room door, his face expressionless. Usually Ryder did very little to hide his emotions. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and his emotions came quickly and took over him absolutely. The fact that Alexander could not tell what Ryder was thinking increased the worries tenfold. Was something truly the matter?

“Ryder?” Alexander asked, concern leaking through his bravado.

Ryder walked forward with purpose, his expression still clear. He stopped before Alexander and thrust an embossed letter into his hands. Alexander looked down at the letter in confusion. It was written on incredibly fine parchment, and the insignia on the golden wax seal was that of the royal family. Immediately, Alexander relaxed.

“A messenger rode in not ten minutes ago. I was told that this letter was of dire importance.” Ryder said coolly.

Ryder’s cold demeanor still confused Alexander, but the letter caused him too much joy for Alexander to truly care.

“At last!” Alexander exclaimed with delight, turning his attention to the matters at hand. “The king has heard our pleas!”

Despite Alexander’s joyful expression, Ryder remained unmoved. He had seen the political side of war for five and twenty years now, ever since he was a young boy and snuck into his father’s office to eavesdrop on conversations. He knew that, more likely than not, the king would not be sending them any reinforcements. The kingdom was being ravaged by raiders, and every village seemed to need more men than they had. But still, he wasn’t about to tell Alexander this. Alexander was desperate for any kind of help, for his village, for his men, and for his wife.

Alexander ripped open the letter, not bothering to be careful of the seal. It ripped the page when Alexander opened the letter, but he paid it no heed. It no longer mattered. All that mattered now were the words on the page. Smiling widely, Alexander immediately began skimming the page as he read it aloud:

“Lord Alexander:

            “I have heard of your struggles in Brierwood, and I am very concerned. Your village is very close to our border, and I wish for you to be able to do whatever you can from keeping those barbarians from taking any of our land.”

Alexander looked up at Ryder and grinned widely, but Ryder only nodded his head. The first part held no relevant information, and Ryder knew this. It would be the next words that would decide their fate.

Alexander’s eyes fell to continue to read, and nearly simultaneously, his smile followed suit.

“However, and I’m sure you’re already aware, raiders are attacking from nearly all our flanks. Our knights and their companies are already spread far too thin as it is, and for me to order even a single company to go to Brierwood, would surely mean that I’d be signing a death warrant for the villagers they were previously protecting. I cannot send you any more troops.”

As Alexander read, his voice became increasingly disheartened. When he reached the last sentence, his voice trailed into nothingness, depression and worry once again ruling his features. Alexander collapsed on the chair behind him hopelessly and dropped the letter on his desk. His head slumped into his hands and he gestured to Ryder.

“Read the rest, Ryder. I cannot bear to read anymore.”

“There’s more?” Ryder asked, looking at the letter in shock.

“Yes,” Alexander replied quietly.

Ryder snatched the paper from the desk. He knew from experience that if the king would be offering them no help, the letter would have ended there and then.

“Despite this fact, there is one thing I can offer you.

“No doubt you’ve heard of mercenaries, or soldiers for hire. They belong to no kingdom, and they are only loyal to each other and gold coins, but there are a few that are known to be loyal to those that pay them.

“A few days ago, a group of mercenaries came to me and explained that they are partial to our case. There are but seven of them, and one is a healer and another a young boy, but I still believe that, despite their numbers, they will be a great help to your cause. I am sending you—”

Ryder stopped abruptly and looked at the page wide-eyed. Alexander was angry, though. The king was sending them but five soldiers! How was that to help?

“Spit it out, Ryder!”

Ryder cleared his throat and looked up at Alexander, his voice filled with awe.

“I am sending you The Phoenix.”