MERCS:

  Twerk | The Bowman | Greenblade | Usa | Izil | Auntie | Mila | The Explorer | Bletcher | The Hoffmeister | Pecs | Fortune | Cap

  Character Sheets:

  Femke knew Lothar had listened to her concerns. He hadn’t selected Wade for this purely military mission. Instead, he, Mags, and Murder were helping Sauer set up a new base of operations in Eisenberg.

  Meanwhile, he had given Femke the set of armour they had found in the latest barrow mission. Called Armour of Unyielding Silk, it was incredibly lightweight—it felt like she wasn’t wearing armour at all. But while she was grateful, she also felt guilty. Someone else, more likely to get involved in combat, could have been wearing it instead.

  There had been some comments—spoken as if in jest, but that didn’t mean they weren’t meant.

  ‘I was the first of The Blades to switch to The Apples,’ Usa said. ‘And I have been rewarded with a sack.’ To be fair, his laugh sounded genuine.

  ‘At least you got something,’ said his brother.

  They were probably ribbing their friends more than her. Fortune had lived up to his nickname, because he was more than lucky to get Blueblade. But he was the best swordsman, so it made sense in that respect. Cap, too, was best placed to get maximum value from the Spear of Riposte.

  Freshly equipped, they left for the hillfort. Cap had a natural way of making decisions that didn’t quite feel like he was giving out orders. He encouraged The Explorer to range ahead of the main group to look out for trouble. It was an eminently sensible tactic, but until now no one had thought of doing it.

  So it was Jaelin who broke the news to the rest of the squad. ‘Looks like we’re too late. Orcs occupy the fort. There are more orcs and goblins camped down below.’ He grimaced. ‘Also, a pile of bodies—greenskins and humans—and a field of scalped heads on stakes. They were adding the last few as I watched. Reckon the fighting has only just finished.’

  ‘Damn,’ said Cap. ‘Not only have we lost the fort to the orcs, but Redblade and Breaker as well. How many are there, do you reckon?’

  ‘Hard to tell exactly. More than fifty. Maybe as many as a hundred. Some of the goblins have wargs, as well.’

  Usa whistled. ‘That’s some war band. We can’t hold Eisenberg against them, never mind trouble them in the field. What do we do? Turn around and go back?’

  Already, eyes naturally turned to Cap for the answer. He took his time to think about it, weighing up the consequences in his head. ‘We achieve nothing in returning to Eisenberg,’ he said at last.

  ‘We keep our lives,’ Fortune argued.

  ‘There is that. But the orcs paid a price in lives taking the fort. They’ll want to enjoy the spoils. I think the attack was well planned. They didn’t count on us turning up.’

  ‘We can’t take out a hundred of the bastards,’ Usa warned.

  ‘No. But maybe we can talk. Learn something, or come to some arrangement. Hoffmeister, get that flag out of your pack for me, will you?’

  Cap had Pecs tie the white cloth to his pike.

  ‘Listen, everyone. Against common folklore, orcs don’t fight unless they have to. Unless they’re sure they’re gonna win. We know they hit the goblins, and integrated their warriors. Now they’ve taken the fort, somehow found a way inside. Both were planned attacks, with a clear objective.

  ‘Meanwhile, we’re a serious force, and an unknown quantity. The orc leader is more than likely to agree to talks—find out who we are, rather than do something rash. Then at least we return to Eisenberg with some information. There’s too many of them to defeat in battle. We need to outthink them, and the first step is finding out who we’re dealing with.

  ‘That said, if people would rather retreat, I understand.’

  No one said anything. Femke wanted to say something. She wanted to say “by Gehenna, let’s get very far from here”. But no one said anything, and neither did she.

  They crossed the ground towards the fort, the aftermath of the siege visible. Femke could see no signs of damage to the buildings on top of the great mound. No trails of smoke, which in her imagination always followed an orc attack. It suggested they intended to hold the fort themselves—and why not? It gave them control over the local territory; and a base from which they could expand.

  A horn blew; then another. They had been seen. Movement, and a group of orcs gathered, about twenty strong. They marched towards The Apples, the gap between the two forces closing fast.

  ‘Err, warning!’ said Bletcher, wafting his staff.

  Everyone ignored him.

  Femke didn’t care how battle hardened a merc might be, a band of orcs was intimidating. They were larger than humans. Not taller by much, perhaps. Maybe a foot taller than she was; only half a foot on the men. But they were wider, too—bigger framed, with larger bones and muscles that gave them an easy power. A single orc wouldn’t feel like much of a threat, she thought. But a whole bunch of them were terrifying. Their weapons were brutal, designed to make best use of their strength. Clubs; maces; hammers. Used for close combat, to crush skulls and bones in one or two blows.

  ‘Halt!’ Cap thundered. If it was going to be a fight, The Apples had to get into formation quickly, before they were overrun.

  ‘Halt!’ came a command from the orcs, immediately after Cap’s. The orcs stopped. Except one of their number, who kept coming. She was unmistakably a female, though she gave little away to the male warriors in size. It looked like she was smiling, but it might have been her protruding lower canines that gave that impression.

  ‘I am Queen Brid of the Black Orcs of Darkspike Dungeon,’ she said, her ease with the human tongue surprising Femke.

  ‘I am Leonard Babler, second in command to Lothar Sauer, of The Rotten Apples. We are operating out of Eisenberg.’

  The Orc Queen studied Cap, then let her gaze drift over the other mercs. It seemed like she was assessing the threat each posed, calculating what her best response should be. Femke hoped her crew looked tough enough. She didn’t feel very tough at that moment—she felt like a 35 year old girl who wanted her mummy.

  ‘This is the army of Eisenberg?’

  ‘Part of it,’ Cap lied.

  ‘You have come to avenge your allies?’

  ‘No. But we are unhappy at their fate.’

  ‘Unhappy?’ Brid laughed, and some of her orc warriors laughed along. ‘Humans use such stupid words. Say you are pissed off, if that is the truth.’

  ‘Alright. We are pissed off.’

  Femke wasn’t sure Cap should be saying that.

  ‘Better. So, you’re pissed off. What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘A war is an option. I will tell my leader if that is necessary.’

  ‘Necessary? Maybe it is necessary that I come to Eisenberg and burn it to the ground. What are your other options?’

  ‘An accommodation.’

  ‘Accommodation? What is this? Speak clearly, Leonard Babler.’

  ‘A treaty. Promises of peace. Trade. An agreement to live together.’

  ‘Oh. Live together. I see. We live together until more stinking humans arrive in Gal’azu, and force us out of our lands. Force us north and west, until you take all the land for yourselves.’

  ‘That won’t happen. The numbers coming to Gal’azu aren’t the same as they once were. But there are plenty of us. Plenty to recruit into an army if you continue your attacks.’

  ‘Alright. A peace. What can we exchange for this peace?’

  ‘Weapons. The leaders of the hillfort had special weapons, a sword and a polearm. We can exchange weapons of our own for them.’

  Brid laughed. ‘Oh, that is a good one. We give you Redblade, the sword that has slain countless greenskins? You are funny, Leonard Babler.’

  ‘Alright,’ Cap said with reluctance. ‘People.’

  ‘Yes, people. That is the only way.’

  ‘Do you have any survivors?’

  ‘I have about twenty. Non-combatants.’ She stared at Femke’s crew. ‘What? You think we ate all the children?’ She laughed at them. ‘It’s not dinner time yet.’ Her warriors laughed at this.

  ‘Alright,’ said Cap. ‘Take me in exchange for them. My squad will return to Eisenberg and tell our leader that you are willing to talk peace with him.’

  Queen Brid stared at him. Assessing. Weighing. There was a fierce intelligence in those black eyes. ‘No.’

  Femke slowly moved a hand towards the bow stave strapped to her back. They were moments from violence now.

  ‘You talk a lot, Leonard Babler. But I don’t think anyone would really miss you if I slit your throat. Your women, however. They are beautiful. Surely, they will be missed. And they are interesting. This one,’ she said, pointing at Ashlyn, ‘stands like a lioness. She could be an orc queen. The other two shrink at the back. But there is more to them than first meets the eye. I will have those three in exchange.’

  ‘No,’ said Cap. ‘I didn’t offer them. You can have me, and two others. Instead.’

  Brid barked something at her warriors, and they readied their weapons. ‘It seems peace talks are breaking down, Leonard Babler. We will slaughter all of you. Then I will make peace with Lothar Sauer. I think, having lost so many warriors to me, he will agree to whatever terms I offer.’

  ‘Alright,’ said a voice. It took Femke a moment to fully realise that it was her own. ‘We’ll do the swap. It doesn’t matter which three of us it is. Human women are just as tough as the men.’

  The Orc Queen studied her. ‘I don’t doubt it.’

  MISSION COMPLETE

  FAILURE: Redblade’s hillfort was not relieved

  None of your mercs improved their stats

  No mercs levelled up