Barbarian Quest

Chapter 18: Urich’s Brotherhood

Crackle, crackle.

The piglet roast was coming along nicely. Urich stood beside it, sharpening his axe blade.

“Can we not eat it yet?” Urich asked.

“It’s not even close to being done, Urich,” Bachman shook his head and scolded him as he turned the piglet over.

“Are we going to get moving anytime soon? My body’s aching from doing nothing for too long. We’ve been waiting here for three days now,” the other men asked.

The ex-gladiators were waiting for a battle. The Horus Gladiators was now a mercenary squad. Since the twenty-two guards and gladiators agreed to the career change, they had been making scraps by doing grunt work as securities and guards. No one wanted to hire a small nameless mercenary group for a big job.

‘We can’t keep doing this. We’re not making any money,’ Urich thought as he stared at the horizon while chewing on his nails. The small earnings from these jobs were barely enough to keep them fed and under a roof. On top of that, no one in their group was educated enough to look after their budget, so they couldn’t even hold on to the little money they were making. The money that they had saved under Horus’ leadership was already running out.

This made Urich and the rest of the gladiators realize how crucial Horus was to their livelihood. When Horus was alive and well, they never had to worry about eating, drinking, sleeping, and having women.

“Are you sure about that intel?”

“Do you know how much money I wasted at that tavern? If what the owner said isn’t true, I’ll go cut his head off myself.”

The mercenary squad was camping out for three days based on a single tip about an imminent battle.

“Count Daggleton and Count Mollando are about to begin their territorial battle, and the first battle is taking place not too far from here since this is the only flatland around.”

“We’ve been waiting for three straight days based on that one tip,” the mercenaries said to each other as they exchanged concerned glances.

“Urich, if this fails, most of them will probably leave us,” Bachman said with concern.

“If you don’t like it then why don’t we just let Donovan be our leader?” Urich retorted. He was the temporary leader of the newly formed mercenary squad, due to the fact that he was the one who suggested the career change. On top of that, the situation was also in his favor. He had played a crucial role in defeating Trios’ mercenaries with his unparalleled battle skills.

“The only reason why Donovan even agreed to this mercenary thing in the first place is probably so that he can eventually throw you out and take back what was his,” Backman glared. At the end of his gaze was Donovan, peacefully admiring the sky in the grass field.

“It’s true that we need Donovan. He’s a good commander—probably more of a captain material than I am,” Urich said as he shrugged. He admitted that Donovan had the commanding skills that he didn’t.

“Why didn’t he stay in the military? Life as an Imperial soldier must have been much better than one as a gladiator,” Bachman questioned. It was obvious that Donovan was a very capable soldier.

“Mm, that smells good!” Urich smacked his lips as he stared at the piglet roast.

Schluck.

Bachman dug into the piglet with his dagger, and the meaty juice drizzled down.

“It’s ready now. It’s time to eat, you hogs!”

Bachman’s words drew in the scattered mercenaries one by one. A delicious pork meal was about to be served.

“They’re here! They’re here!” The lookout called out. The mercenaries frowned in disappointment and annoyance.

“What, now? Why now? Fucking hell.”

“Shut up and armor up. We’ll feast until our stomachs burst after we get this done.”

The mercenaries got up as they grabbed their armory. Everyone was prepared with different armor and weapons, fitting the title of mercenaries.

“Urich!”

“I know, I know. I’m coming,” Urich said as he stood on top of the hill. He squinted his eyes to look at the plains. His vision was out of this world.

“Ah, they are soldiers, indeed. The army on the right has a red bear on their flag and the one on the left has a golden trident,” Bachman passed down the information to the rest of the mercenaries.

“The red bear flag is Count Daggleton and the golden trident is Count Mollando.”

“They each have about a hundred soldiers. I think we can budge in.”

“Let’s go, then!”

The mercenaries’ morale was high, and their eyes burned with eagerness. They had been waiting for this moment for the past three days. Each of them pressed their helmet down and raised their weapons and shields.

“Alright, let’s go, my friends,” Urich drew his sword and exclaimed as he led the line.

* * *

Count Mollando did not wish for this conflict. A flag with a golden trident fluttered behind him as he trod on his horse.

“That goddamn Daggleton, claiming grandfathers’ rights after all this time.”

The area they were fighting over was a fringe farmland where their two estates overlapped. The administrative documents showed that the land belonged to Count Daggleton, but Count Mollando was the one who had been ruling over it for the past two generations.

“We must have bought this land from the Daggletons but there is no record of transaction. Probably because of those idiot scribes forgetting to do their job.”

Both Counts brought fair and valid points for claiming total control of the farmland to the table.

“May Lou be the judge of this conflict.”

They believed that the Sun God Lou would be in favor of the righteous ruler of the farmland. All that was left was for them to battle over it. Count Mollando mustered his troops. He had an army of twenty men from his standing army along with around eighty conscripts.

“Count Daggleton’s army must be in a similar shape as ours, Count Mollando. The victory will go to the army that has Lou’s blessing,” a liege said to Count Mollando.

Count Daggleton’s army emerged from the horizon. Because of their similar territory size and population, their armies were of a similar scale.

‘If we lose this, we’ll have to live under Daggleton’s thumb.’

Count Mollando lowered his helmet with determination. His chainmail clanked with every movement, and he wore a suit of leather underneath his armor.

The Count and his twenty standing troops were heavily armed, but those from the conscription army were dressed in woeful armor.

“Shit, why are we fighting for these snobs?”

“What does this even have to do with us?”

The conscripts grumbled. All they had to protect themselves from swords and arrows were mostly regular cotton clothes, with the exception of a few leather suits that some wore as armor.

“Can we even fight with these dull-bladed spears?”

“Shut up. I’ll gladly take it off your hands if you don’t want it.”

They were given spears to fight with, but there wasn’t enough to go around. Many of the conscripts had to bring their own plows or axes they used for firewood. The hunters took on the role of archers and brought their bows and arrows. Most of these conscripts were not warriors, but only farmers. So, naturally, their morale was on the floor. In small territories like Daggleton and Mollando’s, the people were practically serfs, unlike the people of a more urbanized territory who had a much more stabilized life.

“If I am righteous, Lou will be on my side,” Mollando clasped his hands together and quickly said a prayer. The battle was imminent.

“Count Mollando, someone is approaching!”

The archers nocked their arrows.

“Did Count Daggleton send an emissary?

“Why would he send an emissary now? He’s probably just telling us to surrender before the battle begins.”

“By the way he is dressed, he doesn’t seem like an emissary of the Count.”

Mollando and his lieges murmured as the strange man finally reached the army.

“I am a messenger from our mercenary squad. We heard the news of your conflict and were waiting for you.”

It was a mercenary from Urich’s newly formed mercenary squad. The messenger spoke to Mollando.

“Mercenary? Who is your leader?” Count Mollando asked the messenger.

“He’s a warrior named Urich. We used to be in a gladiator squad called Horus...”

Count Mollando made it obvious that he was irritated even before the messenger could finish his introduction.

“So, a nobody. Fine, how many men do you have?”

“We have twenty-two, all heavily armored and with plenty of battle experience.”

The lieges murmured at the sound of a significant upgrade to the conscripts they currently had. Good mercenaries added as much advantage as well-trained standing soldiers.

“Twenty-two mercenaries would be more than enough to tip the scale in our favor, Count.”

“But how can we trust these mercenaries? They’ve only just showed up, right before our battle.”

Mollando felt uneasy about hiring a group of mercenaries that he had never seen or heard of before.

“If you, Count Mollando, refuse to hire us, our squad will fight against you under Count Daggleton. He should have received the same offer by now.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me right now, you measly mercenary?” Mollando drew his sword and pointed its tip at the messenger’s neck.

‘Shit, I knew the extra money wasn’t worth all this trouble. I shouldn’t have volunteered to do this,’ the messenger thought to himself as he did his best to look as unbothered as possible.

“I’ll take it as a no and get out of your hair,” he said as he turned his back against the Count.

The Count slowly parted his lips, “How much do you want?”

“Let’s hear what you have to offer.”

“Fine. A million cils per mercenary. On top of that, we’ll give you half of the loot to which you get the first pick.”

Looting after a battle was another way to make decent money, especially when there were standing soldiers involved. A good chainmail from them went for more than ten million cils on the market.

“I will pass your offer on to our leader,” the messenger said as he ran back toward the hills.

“Mercenaries intervening in a situation like this, how did they smell the money?” the Count grumbled as he looked across the plain. Daggleton’s men had not moved since the last time they checked. It seemed like they were negotiating with the same mercenaries.

“Huff, huff.”

The messengers ran back to the camp where Urich and the rest of the mercenaries were waiting. Urich, perched on a tree stump, laughed.

“What did they offer us?”

The mercenaries who were sent as messengers took turns passing on the offer from the two Counts.

“Count Mollando offered a million cils per mercenary and half of the loot, to which we get the first pick.”

“Count Daggleton offered us two million cils, and possibly more depending on how much we contribute to their win.”

The mercenaries murmured.

“Daggleton is much better. We don’t need a deal on the loot—we can just take that for ourselves after the battle. Besides, selling those on the market is also a pain. He’s offering us double what the other one is,” Bachman suggested to the squad. The other mercenaries nodded in agreement as they all preferred a higher guaranteed pay than having to look for good loot.

“Is that so? Alright then, we’ll go with Daggleton,” Urich said as he got up from the tree stump.

“I disagree. I think we should go with Mollando,” Sven broke his silence as he looked to the side of Mollando’s army.

“And your reason is?” Urich asked. Sven was a man of few words. Whenever he decided to speak up, it was for good reason.

“I don’t think Daggleton is going to keep his word and actually pay us the two million cils, especially when he offered to pay us even more than that depending on our contribution. He’s only a small-time count with a small territory. I don’t think he would be willing to risk losing that much money to an unknown mercenary squad like us. On the other hand, Mollando’s offer is much more realistic. He would only have to pay us twenty-two million cils in cash and get it over with.”

“Hmm, you don’t think Daggleton’s going to pay us?”

“I think he will either stall and drag out the payment or try to cut our heads off himself after the battle. I heard that he was the one who started this whole thing, so he sounds like an ambitious noble to me.”

Sven had a point. His words stirred the mercenaries again.

“I think Sven raised a good point. What do you guys think? Raise your hand if you want to go with Mollando.”

One by one, the mercenaries glanced at each other and raised their hands in agreement. The majority had voted to fight for Count Mollando.

“Alright, it’s settled, then. If anyone strongly objects, speak up while I count to ten,” Urich started folding his fingers and counted. There were no objections.

“Good. Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

Clunk, clang.

The mercenaries picked up their weapons and joined the army of Count Mollando.

“There they come,” Count Mollando remarked as he watched the group of mercenaries approaching them.

“They look like they’ve seen their fair share of battle, Count,” a liege whispered to Mollando.

“We accept your offer. You give us a million cils per person, and we get the first pick of half of the loot,” Urich said as he stood before the Count.

“Are you the leader?” Mollando asked with a frown.

‘A barbarian?’

Urich’s foreign accent and his beastly aura hinted at his barbaric origin. Mollando thought that he was from the north, given that there was a typical northern warrior among the mercenaries.

‘Well, beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.’

Mollando reluctantly accepted Urich.

“Oh right, how much do we get if we bring you Daggleton’s head?” Urich asked.

“You can’t kill him. But if you manage to bring him to me alive, I’ll give you half of his ransom.”

In a battle between nobles, the only casualties were their soldiers. It was an unspoken rule that nobles could not kill one another, and they had their reasons as well.”

‘If we killed Daggleton, his friends and family would use that as an excuse to try and steal my territory.’

Urich tilted his head in question.

“The people here are obsessed with ransoms. Why don’t you just kill them and take everything that they have?”

Count Mollando and his lieges laughed out loud.

“It’s not as easy as you make it sound, Urich. There are a lot of complications with the politics and family ties involved.”

Urich shrugged.

“Well, whatever. Just remember what you said about bringing him alive,” Urich reminded the Count as he patted the horse that he was sitting on and returned to his group.

‘Pff, bringing him alive? I doubt it. I wouldn’t have even considered hiring these nobodies if we weren’t on the brink of battle.’

The two counts knew from their spies that neither side had hired any mercenaries. It would have been pointless spending to hire any for such a small piece of farmland.

‘How unlucky are we to have to pay a bunch of mercenaries when we were so close to getting it done without them?’

Count Mollando stared toward the edge of the plain. Count Daggleton and his army were on the move. They had decided that the new mercenaries were not worth any delays.