--- Roric

The mercenaries marched to the East for several days until they reached Rayol, the republican capital. Unfortunately commander Lowan didn't plan to enter the city, as it would have been a huge loss of time, and instead gave the order to stop ten miles away from the walls and wait there. So, Roric spent the first few hours after their arrival to collect as much information as he could about that fascinating place.

Rayol was one of the most important centers in the whole world. Surrounded by vast plains, the ancient settlement had origins that were lost to history. For hundreds of years it had been the capital of an empire called the Old Crown, a dominion stretched from the Eastern Sea to the lands of the contemporary Duchy of Guhrien. That powerful country, fallen apart a mere century before Roric's birth, had grown to a point that only Ekhar represented a real challenge for its mighty army. Back then the river Rien already acted as a border with the northern clans, as well as with the lands that now belonged to the Merchant Kings and Balinar, the Holy City.

From the top of a small mound not far from where the company was camped the child gazed towards Rayol, which filled most of the horizon. Its sheer size and the amount of traffic going in and out made Guhrien look like a tiny village in comparison. Wherever he laid his eyes, Roric could find traces of the glorious past of the city, from its many elegant towers to its imposing monuments. It wasn't hard to believe that a similar place once harbored the apex of civilization, but the most impressive part of the spectacular view was the huge road that came out of the walls and headed South. The little orphan didn't know where it led, only that it went on for miles and miles fading towards a point where the mountains flattened.

A remarkable display of architecture, it shone in the morning sun while many caravans and travelers walked its white rock pavement. Roric sat on the ground, in awe. The mere scale of what he could look at was way beyond the dreams of a kid who came from the countryside of the Duchy.

"Seeing it for the first time always has this effect," commented Demios, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"How can something that massive even exist?" asked the child. "Just a couple of hours ago I thought Guhrien was big, but this... This is a bit too much."

The spring breeze surrounded the two with a sweet scent coming from the many patches of flowers that grew in the plains. The two laid down in the sun, embracing its gentle warmth.

"It's a huge, ancient monster of a city," stated the other boy. "Most people would say it's the center of the world."

"Earlier, one of the lookouts told me that there's a place called the Senate inside the walls," said Roric. "An important palace full of important people."

Demios burst into laughter.

"Oh, Roric... How I envy your ignorance, sometimes!"

"Come on, don't make fun of me."

"Sorry, sorry. Yeah, what you said is probably true. It's an elegant way to describe that Senate of theirs, but... It's a bit more complicated than that. You see, like all cities of this size, Rayol has always been a place of business, where anyone could get rich really fast by playing the right cards. Over the centuries, however, the wealth gaps inside its society have grown without any control, and the Senate itself has become a corrupted institution."

The boy used lots of words Roric had never heard before, yet he got the idea that living in the city wasn't as nice as he initially thought. A single day, in his defense, would never have been enough to understand that complicated environment.

He sighed, suddenly reminded of the many things in the world that he had yet to learn. Yet, the kid was really happy to have people like Demios around, to teach him about the intricacies of the lands they visited.

"What about that white road? Where does it go?"

"Where, you say?" exclaimed the boy, looking at him in sincere disbelief. "You have really never heard about the great kingdom that lies on the other side of the mountains?"

"Can't say I have," replied Roric. "My parents once told me about the world, but... They only said there were many foreign lands. Nobody explained anything to me before."

His friend cleared his throat, waving his hands in a dramatic way.

"A powerful nation, Cassidia is its name. As vast as the Old Crown, its rulers even wiser," he declaimed, solemnly. "Surrounded by sea and impassable peaks, the White Road will lead there, unless... Damn, I can't remember the rest. Anyway, I've always read of this great country. That's the only way to reach it, without walking through the Steppes or taking a boat from Orinna, a rich city far in the East."

"You know so many things," remarked the child.

"But my rhymes are all over the place," admitted Demios. "Makers, sometimes I think that I should have just kept sticking to my books."

"Did those lines come from a story?"

"Yes," nodded the boy. "An old poem called The sons of Lanis, but don't ask me more. I remember finding it in the library of my orphanage, but all we had was the first page."

The two gazed at the horizon together, in silence. As always, Roric had been left with even more questions than before. What kind of place was this kingdom in the South? As if he was reading his thoughts, Demios addressed him.

"It might seem a rather empty promise, but if I ever go to Cassidia... I'll make sure to let you know. It's not bad to have you around, Roric. You know how to listen."

"Thanks. I'll remember that. But what about Frauli?"

"I wonder if I'll ever be able to get rid of him," laughed the boy. "Maybe... Wait, look there."

"Where?"

A cloud of dust had appeared in the distance and Demios stood up.

"Let's rejoin the others, kid. Looks like the guests the commander was waiting for have finally arrived."

***

Roric took place at Tolwin's side as they watched the newcomers getting closer.

Commander Lowan had come to the outskirts of the camp and was ready to meet them on his horse, a short distance from where the kid stood. Numbering a couple dozens at least, the strangers all looked like veterans of many wars. From what Roric could see most of them were middle aged, dressed in scale armour and wielding long iron spears.

"Seems like our heavy cavalry have arrived," observed the priest. "They are always eager to fight, like Lowan said."

"They must be great warriors," said the child. "Are they friends of the commander?"

"Friends is a misleading word," replied Tolwin. "Especially when you are talking about mercenaries. Those men were once part of this company, but when they broke free they swore to help their former leader in times of need. They have honored that promise many times now, but it's not a mere act of charity. It's a well known fact that war can be a good chance for business, despite being a tragic event."

The kid kept looking at the riders, who slowed down and stopped just a few steps from the commander. Lowan advanced, shaking hands with the one who looked like their head.

"Palander," he greeted. "Perfect timing, as always. Thanks for coming so soon."

"Hail to you," answered the other man, removing his helmet.

He was fully bearded, with long grey hair and a distinctive scar running through the left side of his face. Roric couldn't tell how had he managed to save his eye after receiving such a nasty blow. Then he remembered about the person right next to him.

I suppose a certain priest is the one to thank.

"I brought every last of my men, like we promised," continued the leader of the riders. "I trust the pay will be good this time, too."

"You know who we are dealing with, old friend. Let's have a toast, shall we?"

The two headed deeper into the camp and disappeared between the tents, while Palander's warriors dismounted. In the following hours many others kept coming from the city, answering for Lowan's request for aid. It almost seemed like the commander was calling in every debt or favor he had collected during the years. When the sun set, the company had tripled its manpower and seemed much, much more powerful.

***

Roric was helping with handing out the food that night, like he had grown used too. The job required a lot of walking but was perfectly bearable, compared to the hardships of his training with captain Ugrin. Plus, it had given him a chance to meet almost everyone of his fellow mercenaries. Surprisingly, the child had discovered that most of them hated handling the dinner because they thought it wasn't something fit for a warrior. For that reason, only a few actually volunteered to do it and he ended up being called more often than not, due to his young age. From his point of view the little recruit enjoyed it, especially because it reminded him of the times when he did it with his mother, at home.

Still, especially now that there were so many newcomers, delivering food to hundreds of mouths was no easy task. While he hurried back and forth with steamy pots of stew, Roric was also getting all kinds of funny looks from Lowan's allies, probably because he was just a kid. He wasn't a fighter yet, nonetheless he forced himself to walk straight and proud... Until he passed near the fireplace where Meran was resting.

"And that's Roric, the useless flea," he was telling to a trio of strangers, who were among the youngest. "He is so pathetic and weak that all he can do is play kitchen like a woman and feed those who do the actual work."

The kid sighed. Those bad jokes were nothing new, and it was inevitable that the boy from the Guhrien lake would have done everything in his power to belittle him in front of his new friends. He was laughing out loud, spitting out an exaggerated amount of insults in front of the improvised audience.

"Hey, Roric," yelled Meran. "I just had a great idea! How about we tie you to one of the horses, so you can at least protect it from arrows? Maybe that way you'll finally be useful!"

"You sure like to get cocky when the captain's not around," grumbled the kid. "Stupid jester."

The boy's face went red, and he stood up menacingly.

"What did you just say?" he roared.

Roric bit his tongue. Reacting instinctively wasn't clever at all. He watched without moving as Meran got closer, his breath making it clear that he had drunk too much. Maybe the right thing to do would have been turning around and run but it was too late to chicken out, so the kid challenged the gaze of the older recruit. The other stood in front of him for a couple of seconds, then he pushed him to the ground making him spill a good part of the stew.

"That's where you belong," he hissed. "Weaklings like you don't even deserve to stand."

"Good one," replied Roric, who was getting madder and madder. "Is it a line of yours or something you heard back at home?"

Meran seemed about to explode. The newcomers at his side grabbed him before he could jump forward, dragging him away and letting the child go on with his duties.

"Get your hands off me!" thundered the boy from the distance. "I'm calm! I'm calm! Now hand me another beer."

His yelling faded behind Roric's back, as he walked through the camp to retrieve another pot.

"Everything alright?"

He turned around and found Frauli, who was clearly keeping watch and had witnessed the entire scene. Sometimes, he would be the one grabbing Meran when things went overboard.

"I... I don't know what got into me," babbled the child. "He just made me angry."

"Roric, listen to me. I know how that kid is, but... Things are going to be different for us once the campaign starts. Me and Demios won't be around to watch your back forever. Soon, Meran will be your problem."

"Why do you say that? Did something happen?"

"No, not yet," said the blond boy. "But I've seen that bully trampling you many times. Want a tip? Show everyone what you are made of. Otherwise, he'll just keep mistreating you forever."

He is right. This has been going on because I'm still weak.

Roric felt like he had just been scolded by his mother, but nodded and crossed Frauli's gaze.

"I won't make you guys worry."

"Good. Stay away from trouble, alright?"

As his older friend walked away, the child felt even more depressed.

It's going to be a long campaign.