My first stop was, naturally, Truso the Genuda Military Contract Manager. I was expecting a sharp operator. What I got was a sack full of broken glass and lovingly knapped obsidian arrowheads. He didn’t have to do anything to give me that impression. He just stood there in off-white leggings, stout boots and a quilted red jacket. A long sword hung on his waist, a dagger jutted from his boot… and that was all he needed to look like the nastiest piece of work this side of the monsters.

  Othai didn’t even have to cough or drop me a hint. I knew Truso’s real job. Making sure that almost-equally-hard-looking mayor didn’t suddenly get any wild ideas about Verton’s glorious future free of Genuda hegemony. The mayor mentioned the militia had been disbanded. Sounded to me like it was getting a little too competent, and Truso wanted to make damned sure all military power remained exclusively in Genuda’s hands.

  Pretty sure there weren’t any cops before… Oh hell, I don’t know. Sherlock Holmes had cops in it, and he was… Victorian? But I don’t remember any cops in Romeo and Juliette when we read it in High School English. So sometime between Shakespere and Doyle, cops became a thing. So I’m going to guess that this was like Japan- ultimately the peace was kept by the clan retainers. AKA, the military.

  “You are Truso? Liam, Tower Company.”

  “Mmm. I have orders to let you subcontract out some of our mercenaries, but understand this- they are paid by the day, and you must pay a death indemnity for each soldier that dies. What’s more, if I believe you are wasting their lives, not only will you lose the right to hire them, I will personally seek satisfaction from you. I trust my meaning is entirely clear.”

  I nodded.

  “How much is the pay and how much is the indemnity?”

  “Varies on who you want to hire, and one hundred times their daily salary, respectively.”

  Jesus CHRIST!

  Othai leaned over and whispered “That’s pretty standard, actually, verging on generous terms.”

  Not exactly an unbiased opinion, but good to know. Not that I was planning on getting people killed, but it did happen at Gradden March.

  “Anything else?”

  “Nothing beyond the obvious- they won’t attack Genuda or allied forces, are required to obey the Genuda Code of Military Conduct, all that. It’s spelled out in the hiring contract.”

  “So what can you offer?”

  “We have five hundred Pikes, an equal number of Crossbows, one hundred Matchlocks, and twenty Scout Cavalry. We also have five Three-Handers, though what you could possibly need them for, I can’t imagine.” Truso’s smile wasn’t what I would call nice. I might go so far as to call it nasty.

  “Sorry, I’m not familiar with… Three Handers?”

  “Hein, get your ass up here!” Truso yelled. A big guy ran up, six foot and a smidge and built like a two door refrigerator. Stainless steel refrigerator at that- breastplate, armored codpiece and a steel helmet came standard, as did a comically long sword that he carried almost like a spear.

  Truso had him draw the long blade and explained. “Basically, they serve two functions. One is looking intimidating to civilians and, two, getting under the enemy’s pikes and breaking up their formations.”

  Hein looked like he didn’t entirely agree with that characterization, but kept his mouth shut.

  “Let me show you why those are their only two jobs. Hein, low block to a rising cut and a return to guard if you please.”

  I immediately got it. It was like watching Witcher sword fighting in real life. All big spinning moves. Huge sweeps of the sword. Like a kid using a stick to pretend to sword fight, but the only stick he had was an oar.

  “See? Fine if you are tangling with pike formations and fine if you are trying to scare off some rowdy peasants, but bloody useless otherwise.”

  I didn’t get it, but I caught Versai and Othai both microscopically nodding along, so I went with it.

  “I see, I see. You only have twenty mounted troops available?”

  “Horses are sodding expensive. Trained cavalry horses are very sodding expensive. You want more horses, you buy ‘em your damn self.” His glare was cutting. I had the intense urge to give him the ‘ole two fingered poke in the eyes, but chose to live instead.

  “Who has horses for hire? I’m not looking to make troopers, I just need to get bodies from one place to another faster than running.”

  “Pastet would have horses and wagons. That would be your best bet for moving squad sized groups around, though if you haven’t had the pleasure of riding in an unsprung waggon… well. You are in for a truly memorable experience. He might have some riding horses too, though for what he will charge for them, you might as well hire my boys to carry you around on their shoulders.”

  “And Bocciati, from the local civilian side of things?”

  “Maybe a couple of horses. Maybe. And likely either the darling of some wealthy yokel who cherishes his horse more than his daughter, or an utter nag too worn down to be worth selling for glue.”

  “No racetracks in Verton?”

  “All the racehorses were sent north as soon as the first Hosk raiders were spotted. And again, if you haven’t had the pleasure of trying to ride a racehorse with actual military gear, boy are you in for a real surprise.” Truso sniggered.

  “No good?”

  “Did you know that a horse can rip off a fist sized chunk of flesh with their teeth? I’ve only seen it four times. Three times with the most kill-crazy warhorses, soaked in blood and driven mad by the sounds of the battlefield. The fourth time was a racehorse being petted by a highly familiar groom during its usual midday meal. Ripped his arm right open. The horse was in perfect health and went on to win seven races. The groom got an infected wound and died after the arm was amputated.” Truso’s grin hadn’t gotten any more pleasant to look at.

  “Sounds like I’d want the extra armor. But I take your point. I’ll talk to Pastet.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “You do that.”

  “Payment in Runed Bones?” I asked.

  “What else?”

  “Fair. Any siege equipment?”

  That got me a more speculative look. “As far as I know, you aren’t hired to fight a siege.”

  “There are lots and lots of ways to kill raiders.”

  “Don’t think you are being asked to do that either, in fact.”

  “I’m ordered to get the farmers in with as much of their crops as I can, and deny the enemy any useful thing. A fantastic, and highly cost effective, way to do that is if the Hosk raiders all catch a bad case of death.” I spread my hands, “innocently.”

  “And, related, we are high up on this cliff face with a nice clear view of the river, and I for one am curious to see how close a boat needs to be before it can be sunk by whatever siege equipment this city has.”

  “I can tell you exactly how far. Go back up on the wall and look for the two short towers on either side of the Carro. The Great Chain runs between them. It’s already been raised. No boats coming up the river now. And the mortars can throw their shot one hundred yards past them, exactly.” Truso shrugged, looking monumentally unconcerned by that fact.

  I quickly thought it through. “A Genuda mortar team, I presume?”

  “We do have the equipment and expertise, yes. It is so easy to have an accident, a fatal accident, if you aren’t properly trained on a mortar.”

  Ah. Ahahahah. Just going to brush past that. “And none available for hire?”

  “None. Do you have a good way to shift a one and a half ton cannon around the countryside really fast? Because if you do, I would love to hear it.”

  I did, actually. It was called “Invent horse-drawn field artillery.” But since I had no idea how to do any of that, and it wouldn’t help anything to mention it, I just said “Fair.”

  I was about done with this conversation, but an instinct prickled me. “May I ask if there is anything you particularly want or need?”

  That got me a different kind of grin. “Why yes, yes there is. We have been building a small fortress over by the village of St. Esento. It’s still at the stage of clearing the ground and digging foundations, so it’s not a viable defensive point. It does, however, have a lot of highly valuable defensive material. Namely, shovels, mattocks and wheelbarrows. Since you seem to have such a big interest in wagons, you can go pick them up for me. Bring ‘em back, and it’s five hundred Rune Bones for you.”

  As well as the not so minor matter of establishing a degree of competence. I had the strong feeling that grinding for reputation was going to be a significant feature here. At the very least, it would unlock opportunities.

  Pastet disappointed me. He was another lean, sharp eyed man, dressed in a dark maroon outfit who’s only concession to his role was a big maroon hat with a long white plume sticking out of it. He, too, carried a heavy sword on his waist. The man didn’t even have a flashy ring. If you had told me he was the mercenary commander, I would have believed you. Complete disregard of genre conventions. I wish to file a complaint.

  Well. He was sitting at a heavy wooden desk with a ledgerbook open in front of him. It was something. It would do. I made my introduction and settled down to business. This time, I decided to reverse my usual order.

  “Mr. Pastet, what do you want?”

  “Pardon?”

  I smiled, I think politely. I tried to channel my inner Mr. Morden. “What do you want? Out of this whole situation? What is your ideal outcome?”

  “And you want to know… why?”

  “Because we may be able to help you achieve those goals. And by helping you, I hope we help ourselves.”

  That got me a grunt. “Most are more tactful in how they ask.”

  “Most have years to develop a relationship. I don’t think you have even a quarter hour to spare for me.”

  That got another grunt and a look of tiny appreciation. “You aren’t wrong. The disruption here affects thousands of trades a month. Fortunately, my Merchants Guild oversees all the ones that matter, so we can manage problems in-house. It still leaves a lot of very wealthy, very connected, merchants in a very precarious position. And when the merchants suffer, so do everyone else. Food doesn’t move, weapons, cloth, leather, timber, stone, credit, everything comes to a halt.”

  I nodded. Supply chain disruptions during COVID were a reasonably fresh memory. Never thought I would have to stockpile toilet paper, but…

  “You want Hosk out of here at maximum speed.”

  “Naturally. But more than that- I need the Carro River opened to trade once again. And nobody, myself included, wants that until we can secure the river from Hosk raiders. I know your orders don’t involve this, but if you were to send a squad down the sides of the Carro, and if those squads did happen to carry the flares currently in the chest marked ‘FLARES’ and if those flares happened to reach the quiet living folk with their concealed observation posts along the river… Well. I’d be grateful.”

  “That sounds like a wonderful project that can only benefit everyone. I am awed by your warmhearted munificence, and shamed by my own petty thinking. So petty, I must ask exactly how grateful?”

  “The gratitude of the Merchants Guild is no small thing. No coin could-”

  I spun on my heel and walked off, not even glancing at the flares. Did he really think I was that simple?

  “Two hundred Runed Bones and access to my livery stables. A little bird tells me you want wagons. I have a lot. Or none. It all depends on how safe I feel.”

  It was about a two minute walk from Truso to Pastet. He must have been getting reports in near-real time. So that’s alarming.

  “Better. Four hundred and you wave any charges related to the hiring of the wagons, and no fee for losses or damage they might suffer.”

  “I’d rather be eaten by raiders.” Pastet shot to his feet, his hand dropping onto his sword hilt.”

  “I’m not inflexible. Shall we say Three Ninety Nine, and you throw in some drivers?”

  “Why don’t you ask for my mother too!”

  “I’m sure the honorable lady has many fine qualities, but regrettably, I’m not able to appreciate them. I’m more a “Your wagons will only help your enemies haul away their plunder if you don’t let me use them” kind of guy.”

  Real talk- if she’s not cupping a sharply defined jaw in her hand, head tilted to the side as she goes “Ara ara,” she’s dead to me. An apron and a ladle are excellent accessories, but a form fitting dress or gown is also completely acceptable. Bonus points if she’s hotter than the love interest daughter.

  Pastet, despite the stockings, did not in any way suggest “love” “interest” or “daughter.” Judging from the way his knuckles were turning white on his sword hilt, he was more interested in the role of “nemesis.”

  “You have no reputation, sir! You have no standing with the Merchants Guild. And you dare to argue terms with me?”

  “Look at it from my perspective. Worst case scenario for you is that you are out some flares. And I see several crates of flares. Worst case for me is that I or my people get killed doing something unrelated to our job and I have to pay an unholy indemnity to Truso. So what would you do?”

  I spread my hands helplessly.

  “The risk must be matched by an equal reward, and while I hope for a long, happy relationship with the Merchants Guild, I don’t have years to build the relationship.”

  Pastet glowered at me a bit longer, before sliding over my guards. He sat back down quite calmly, as though he had never lost his temper.

  “The fee for the job is fixed by the Guild. Take it or don’t. My offer of access to the livery stable is something I personally am offering. You may, likewise, take it at your discretion. The fees and death indemnity cannot be waived, since they go entirely to the drivers and owners of the wagons, which is not necessarily I or my Guild.”

  That makes a depressing amount of sense. It’s a guild, not a vertically integrated corporation. That means lots of individual members operating under an umbrella trade organization. The organization itself probably doesn’t need much, or any, of its own wagons.

  “That is disappointingly reasonable. Just the one box of flares?”

  “Mmm.”

  “Do you have a map with the locations of those observation posts?”

  “I do. It even clearly marks the river, the road, all nearby villages, the largest farms, hills, streams, and many useful local landmarks. The military value of which is extraordinary, of course.” He smiled. I also ‘smiled.’

  “How much?”

  “Five hundred Runed Bones. But I can tell you that you can find the observation posts if you travel along the sides of the river and look carefully. Also, you don’t have to return the map at the end of the mission. It’s yours for life.”

  In order to do the job for Truso, I needed wagons, or at least a wagon, to haul the shovels, mattocks and wheelbarrows. That would give me just enough money to buy the map and earn the right to hire wagons for yet more money. Money I could spend traveling up and down the riverbank dropping off flares, because I had no better use of my time. So. Fun.

  I rubbed the spot between my eyebrows. I did have a decent amount of runed bones- a thousand of them, in fact. But that money was going to vanish like water in the Sahara the second I started hiring, and I didn’t want to find out what the consequences were for failing to pay the death indemnity. I needed a reserve.

  My next visit was Mr. Bocciati, a slim gentleman with a slim mustache and immaculately groomed hair. His clothes were dark velvet, and his voice was calm. He and Sebastian could have been cousins, at least on a spiritual level. And like Sebastian, I was quite certain this man would have no problem slitting my throat and leaving my naked body in a ditch for the dogs to eat. Something in the courtly manners and smile that never reached his eyes.

  “And how may I help you, Mr. Bocciati?” Did I have the urge to say “Don?” Yes. But that’s not how he introduced himself, so I didn’t.

  “I wish to propose a matter of mutual benefit. I speak on behalf of numerous families here in Verton. Families who have family still in the villages, and who own orchards and vineyards in the area. Families who would wish to see that no harm came to their kin.”

  Or their estates, but neither of us felt a need to mention that.

  “A little bird tells me that you wish to kill the raiders, not simply retreat from them. Another little bird tells me that Pastet is unwilling to risk a merchant’s property to save a man’s life. My time as a soldier tells me that a man looking for soldiers and wagons means to fight field battles. He wants mobility and speed.”

  The little smile never left his face as he stroked his little mustache with his ring finger. “I can provide you with some wagons. Not as good or as many as Pastet, but they would be free. I cannot supply soldiers, but I can provide local guides, people who know the land better than their father’s face. All I would require from you is your friendship, your courage, and a favor.”