Black Colt mercenaries :

“You are late Colt, the wind has picked up, and a storm is coming our way. There is no way we can reach the Gyellanal before midnight.” Ursula's loud voice greeted Colt and others as they returned to the camp.

As usual, Colt ignored her and nudged Nelly towards his tent. Jack smiled as he dismounted his brown gelding and reined it to its stable. The mercenaries quickly began to dismount and carry off the salvaged rations and goods to the storage tent. Ursula snorted as she noticed that not one of them greeted her.

Her displeasure doubled as she saw Jack smiling to himself. Frowning, she made her way to Colt’s tent. The mercenaries smiled to themselves. It was an everyday occurrence in their camp. The sharp-tongued Ursula would pick a fight with Colt, but most of them knew that she was far from angry. It was her way of showing love.

Colt reigned Nelly in and tied her before carrying Ragnar into his tent. He put him to bed and sat beside him with a sigh. The tent was large enough, nothing fancy, but it would block the sun and the rain. Colt saw the peaceful expression on Ragnar’s face and smiled to himself. A boy, no matter how he lived, was still a boy.

Just as he was about to get up, Ursula announced herself in and was about to proceed with her scolding. However, upon watching Ragnar, she looked at Colt in confusion. Colt signaled her to step outside as he removed his chainmail and changed into a comfortable shirt.

Stepping outside, he saw Ursula waiting with questioning eyes. Colt glanced at the camp, more than fifty tents were neatly laid down in rows, and about four hundred men were working, resting, drinking and eating as the darkness of the night slowly crept in.

“Colt?” Ursula questioned drawing his attention. Colt glanced at her and said, “He’s my son. My wife died of the plague and he had nowhere to go.”

Ursula’s face paled for a moment. Her eyes flared as her hand involuntarily reached for her sword, “You’re joking, right?” Colt looked at her and smiled. His smile said it all. Ursula sighed helplessly and blushed as she remembered her reaction. Then came her soft anger, as she slapped his shoulder and said, “Then who is he?”

“A slave who survived for three days in a dark ditch with no exit. He had a feral instinct to survive no matter what, so I brought him in.” Colt explained as he walked down the path.

Ursula nodded. “We can put him to work at Debby’s,” she suggested.

I wonder Colt thought. He is different Ursula. Those eyes aren’t suited to stay in society. They belong here, in the battlefield.

“Commander,” Emmanuel called out from inside a tent as Colt walked by. Ursula looked over, and they both walked in. Tim was drunk as usual and was grumbling as he played with some iron drabs. “This job pays nothing but these iron drabs, I'm quitting; I'm done. Ya.....you listen to me kid, there is no point in staying with these mercenaries. That Colt is like a colt, no use in following him. Do ya.. hear me?”

(AN - Colt also means a baby boy horse. It’s a word play)

Colt smiled, and so did Emmanuel. But, Ursula wasn’t amused. She snorted coldly, “Tim, do you want me to kick your ass?” Colt signaled Ursula to calm down and sat beside Emmanuel.

“Tim, do you want me to fire you?” Colt asked. Tim frowned as he burped. He looked at Colt and said, “What'ya mean kid? How dare ya? You were twenty when I first found ya, and you dare fire me. Em, don’t ya dare take after this bastard. Your mom left me for another guy; she betrayed me. How dare this bastard.....cough.....get out ya'll.”

Colt smiled while Em poured a glass of water for his father. “Dad, mom died, remember? She didn’t leave you for another guy?”

Tim snorted and said, “It’s all the same. She left me for God; she betrayed me, that bitch.”

Although Tim cursed his wife, both Colt and Em laughed. They wouldn’t believe the words of the drunken man anyway. Everyone knew how much he loved Sara; there was no point in lying after living together for forty years. Sara died a peaceful death last year and since then, Tim would often get drunk and curse his wife that she betrayed him for God.

Unable to bear it any longer, Ursula left the tent leaving the three men alone. Colt smiled as he got up and said, “Em, I need your help. I brought a boy; he's injured, and I suspect infection. Take a look when you can, he’s in my tent.” Em nodded as Colt left the tent.

By this time, the dark clouds finally began to crackle and drizzle. A storm was imminent, but he had to take care of a few things before that.

Neo was outside the tent waiting for Colt. Apparently, Jack pointed out that Colt may be looking for him. He was a young lad, only twenty but he was nimble like a squirrel. Sitting on a nearby rock, he was munching a piece of flat bread. Colt smiled as he saw Neo. As expected, Jack knew his mind.

“Neo,” Colt called out. Neo ate the remaining piece of bread and washed it down with water before trotting down the distance. “Commander,” he saluted.

Colt nodded his head and asked, “I'm sorry Neo, but you'll have to deliver a message to Baron Ashfield by tomorrow noon.”

“Always commander,” Neo said in a cheerful voice. Jack valued Colt, like his elder brother, rather like a blood brother and Neo respected Jack like his sworn big brother. He didn’t know the relationship they shared, but he was sure that it wasn’t simple.

Neo had worked in mercenary clans all his life; he'd been in Black Colt mercenaries for only two years, but he could always tell that they was different. Totas or treasures didn't bind the people here; promises and bonds bound them. At the center of all relationships was Colt, the man he knew little about but heard a lot about.

Colt took a sealed envelope from his leather sack and gave the directions. It was sealed with wax, marbled with the emblem of a sword enveloped by fire, the symbol of the Colt mercenaries.

Time passed, and the drizzle turned into heavy rain as everyone retired to their tents. Except for a dozen sentries posted for guarding the camp, and the occasional crackle of lightning, silence dominated the night.

Colt retired to his tent but didn’t bother to disturb Ragnar and fell asleep on his folding chair. Years of outdoor experience have taught him to sleep almost anywhere. It was in the early hours of the morning that Ragnar woke up with a start. He was in an unfamiliar place, and his bleary eyes adjusted to the low light of the candle only to see Colt staring back at him.

His hands scanned for anything he could use as a weapon but couldn’t find any. Colt though asleep was alert. How could he fall into a deep slumber in the middle of the forest? As a leader, he had his responsibilities. Their eyes met for the second time, and though Ragnar was a bit calmer, Colt could still sense the same feral instincts as he scanned for a weapon.

“Don’t bother kid, you won’t find anything and even if you do, it won’t be of any use to you,” Colt said as he got up and peeked out of the tent. The rain had settled, and the air was misty in the morning. He could sense some movement in the camp as the women were preparing for the day. Feeding four hundred grown up men was no ordinary task. Even if they settled for flat bread for the afternoon meal, a good breakfast was necessary to keep them going for the day.

“Where are we?” Ragnar asked. He looked around and found leather maps, some spare boots, a saddle, some books and a sword by Colt’s chair.

Colt glanced at him and threw his bottle over. “Drink it. You fainted yesterday, but you should be thirsty.” Ragnar caught the bottle and glanced at Colt. He didn’t hesitate any longer and gulped down the water until it was half-emptied. Including the night, he had been without food and water for four whole days. If not for the ditch being wet, he would have died of dehydration.

Colt sighed as he passed a piece of bread and sat on his chair. He watched as Ragnar ate in large mouthfuls and washed it down with water. “You're in my tent if you haven’t realized it already, and this is the camp of Black Colt mercenaries. I am Colt as I said yesterday, and you will be escorted to the church or put to work in an inn by tomorrow. Any further questions Ragnar?” Colt asked in a small voice.

Ragnar lifted his head and frowned. He ate the remaining piece of his bread and said, “Where are we?”

Frowning slightly, Colt took a drink from his waterskin, containing ale. “Don’t misunderstand kid; you're only alive because I thought that you could be of some value. You were a slave, right? Then as the person who saved you, I am now entitled as your new master.”

Ragnar eyes were beginning to show slight fear; he was stopping his impulse to run when the tent opened, and a woman with scarlet hair walked in. “Colt, wake up. Ya.. did you hear me?” She stopped mid sentence as she saw Ragnar. “Now who is this little cutie? Don’t tell me; you were playing your usual pranks on him. Worry not kid, even though this guy has grown up, his brain is worse than that of a horse. This aunt will take care of you. Come here.”

Martha dragged the bewildered Ragnar out of the tent without waiting for Colt, who could only sigh helplessly. Few people could stand against his word, Martha being one of them. Although he was the leader of the mercenaries, she was the master of the kitchen. Pissing her off will starve everyone, forcing them enough to revolt against him.

Colt just wanted to see how Ragnar would react. If he agreed, that was for better. If he disagreed, as he almost did, he would then think of a way to deal with him, but now, Martha had ruined his plan. He would have to think of another.

Stretching his stiff body, Colt thought of the journey ahead. First, they would have to visit the Baron. Then, there was the matter of Ragnar, winter supplies, and weaponry. As he stepped out, he saw Jack with a soldier in his tow. The soldier was weary, probably from long riding and he looked exhausted, mentally more than physically.

“What’s the matter?” Colt inquired. Jack turned towards the soldier who glanced at Colt and presented a letter with a wax seal marbled with the emblem of a shield, the mark of an imperial knight. “My master is Darren, a knight captain of the imperial army. We were resisting an invasion of Orcs south of Milbury, forty miles from here. But the scale of the Orc army was beyond our estimation. I was thus sent to find anyone under the command of his Majesty for reinforcements.

Sir Colt, as the honorary guard of the Imperial army, I ask you to uphold his majesty’s glory.”

Colt stared at the man. He looked too weak and weary to lie. Still, he confirmed the contents of the letter. A reward was promised for any timely help. They were mercenaries; fighting was their occupation, a handsome reward was their fees, but he wouldn't mind an award for military merit. Colt smiled as he kept the letter to himself and said, “On one condition, I command my men.”

Jack smiled and ordered loudly, “Pack up in an hour, we have an Orc feast ahead of us.”

Shouts of cheers rang out as the mercenaries moved with increased vigor. They were men of war; battles delighted them, and fights kept their blood boiling, Standing in a distant corner, Ragnar heard the news as Martha cleaned his wounds. As fate had it, his first day in the Colt mercenaries was going to be the first of the many expeditions he was going to be part of.

*****

Hope you enjoyed it bud,

Kanna.