The coasts of Kalion in autumn were always an unforgiving place. The large island, sitting almost two hundred miles off the coast of the Gadisian Confederacy, was buffeted by the increasingly stiff cold winds that swept over its rocky and treeless northern shore. For Naltus Beroc, however, the gusts were invigorating. He'd come to believe that rising winds meant rising fortunes. In his three years with the Red Blade mercenary company, his superstition had never let him down yet. The stronger the winds, the more profitable and momentous the mission.

"Nalt," Grenna Havret, the Red Blade's master, shouted from behind him. He turned to face her with a broad smile as he was sure she was coming with the next mission. Indeed, she had a spring in her step and was wearing her finest blue and green dress garments that day. Short, thin, and meticulous, Grenna had always stated that mercenaries were not barbarians and had to present themselves well. "Fucking wind. It's so damn cold out here."

"It's nice and brisk," Nalt chuckled. "Invigorating. Gets the blood moving."

"A bunch of shit," Grenna grumbled, flicking her dark red hair backward. "Anyway, I've got a client who just showed up an hour ago to discuss a proposition. Seems like an opportunity that doesn't come by often. I want to present a good face. You'll be there with me."

Nalt's smile dropped off his face at once.

"Wait. Why me?" he gasped.

Grenna's hazel eyes rolled back into her head.

"Because you look like a dumb brute," she laughed, motioning her hand up and down his body. "You're not one, but you damn well look like one and there's no way around that. Clients like seeing the muscle. You should know that by now."

"But you've never invited before."

"Ah ha! Right you are," Grenna acknowledged. "That's because you're one of only a few who are sober right now."

"Oh. That," he groaned. The prior night had been a haze of debauchery, but he recovered early in the morning. "It was a good time, in their defense."

"And I'll keep that in mind when I take it out of their shares when we get paid," Grenna scowled, her dark skin drooping like a leather bag. "Come on. Follow me."

They both quickly walked toward Kalion City about a half mile down the road. Relatively compact as it sat in a valley between two rocky hills, it was the primary trading hub for all of the islands south of the Gadisian coast. Almost all of its buildings were made from gray stone with only a few exceptions. One of those, a large smooth black stone home, belonged to Grenna and served as the informal base for her mercenary company. Nalt always loved being invited there, which was generally rare aside from meetings of the whole Red Blade.

"Do you really think it's true that Forynda totally destroyed Zarmand?" he asked while they walked. "I've heard it from so many, but..."

"Completely," Grenna sighed. "Too bad. I visited it a year ago for the first time and liked it a lot. One of the sailors down in the harbor, one of the ones I actually trust to not exaggerate about every fucking thing, says he saw it the day after. Blasted right down to the bedrock. Smooth slate as far as the eye can see."

"Shit," Nalt laughed. "I almost want to see that."

"Well, you might," Grenna said.

"Certainly explains why Rohmhelm is losing..."

"Rohmhelt, Nalt," she scolded his error.

"Whatever," he shrugged, "why he's lost so much support, or so I hear."

She then poked him with a finger, barely denting his thickly muscled upper arm.

"And that, Nalt, is why I understand we have this meeting," she smirked.

He lit up at the thought.

"You mean we actually get to be part of all that?" he excitedly queried.

"For the right price, of course," Grenna winked.

As they entered the town, Grenna swung past one of the warehouses where two of the mainstays in her company worked during the slower times. Those two were Bafan Kaetho, a tall blue-skinned Caylanch from the far east hundreds of miles past Zarmand, and Wella Hefroc, a local apothecary who served as the company's medic. She was even darker skinned that Grenna, almost to the point where in a dark room only her eyes would be clearly visible. Wella shared Grenna's shortness, but not her build otherwise. Nalt remarked once that she resembled a tree stump.

The two of them waited outside the large white wood warehouse, conversing animatedly as Nalt and Grenna approached.

"It's a new contract, isn't it?" Bafan asked in his lyrical eastern accent.

"A prospect, Bafan," Grenna corrected him. "A contract is something we've sold. I need you all on your best for this."

Wella grunted and stepped forward, brushing her stubby hands through her curly dark red hair.

"Won't we have a minute to, erm, spruce up?" Wella pleaded.

"No, come as you are. I'm the one who has to look good," Grenna chided all three while twirling on her heel to show off. "You represent the three pillars I need to show our potential client. Brute, finesse, and brains. I won't hurt your feelings by telling you which is which, or who is who."

Wella smiled while Bafan rolled his eyes. Nalt did his best to keep up with their leader's wit, but found himself awkwardly laughing to struggle through it.

"Come along then. Clients are as impatient as death itself," Grenna commanded.

Once they were in her spacious abode, they went to the main hall where Grenna's grand dark wood table sat atop slate gray stone. Grenna had already laid out a few emblematic items for all of them. For Bafan, an elegant bow. For Wella, sacks of the finest materials for her apothecary skills. For Nalt, a massive sword that Grenna affectionately called "Big Boy" that really only had the purpose of impressing visitors. For this meeting, all the three had to do was pose with their respective props, bracketing Grenna while she did the talking.

Grenna sat in her grand chair at the table's center while Bafan and Wella sat to her left and right in smaller seats. Nalt was to stand behind her, with a swaggering pose as he held Big Boy behind his shoulders. It was a painful pose for Nalt, but knowing that Grenna threw in little extra payments for help like that, he was inclined to endure it.

The client showed up before long and was escorted into the hall by Grenna's elderly maid Firie, a Caylanchan woman who Bafan had rescued on his own journey to Kalion. The client was a middle-aged man, plump and well-appointed. His graying hair was ample and well-groomed, but his fine clothes were almost impossible for Nalt to place. They looked like they were from the Gadisian capital by their dress, but Nalt had a hard time placing it.

"Ah, hello there," the man said, taking off his gloves and giving the slightest bow. He had a gruff, though friendly, lilt to his voice. "You must be the famous Grenna Havret."

"And you're the man who made up a name to contact me," Grenna said, drawing from a pocket a crumpled tan-colored paper. "What's your real name?"

"Ah, ya figured that out in a hurry," he smiled as he pulled up a chair. He gave only the briefest glances to Nalt, Wella, and Bafan.

"I asked around," she said calmly.

"I suppose ya know my real name then," he muttered with a guilty glance.

"Not yours, but who sent you," Grenna chirped and stuck a finger in the air. "Leader of the Gadisian opposition, a Mr. Terga Goscot. You should be a little worried that I found that out so easily."

The man folded his hands, closed his eyes, and smiled for a few seconds before adopting a more regular posture.

"Your sources are good, I'll give 'em that," he replied. "My name's Feneg Edvren, member of the Gadisian parliament for Deretha, 2nd district. Mr. Goscot did indeed send me."

Grenna smirked and glanced to her three subordinates. Nalt loved watching Grenna's skills at work. He knew he'd never be nimble enough for it, so he was glad to simply enjoy the show.

"That'll do introductions. What's the job?" she inquired, leaning back into her chair and fiddling with a locket just under her neck.

"A simple one, but hard," Edvren said. "Chancellor Kivren made an alliance with Emperor Rohmhelt before this war started and he's honored it up to this point. I'm sure ya know that much. Seems like, even with the war turning sour, he intends to keep honoring it. So, we need some help getting rid of him and his government. We're gonna pay generously for it, too."

Nalt wobbled a bit hearing the mission. Even though Grenna hinted at a big mission, this was still far more than Nalt expected. Judging by Grenna's demeanor, it was more than she had anticipated as well.

"It's normally bad practice for a mercenary company leader to say what I'm about to say, but I can't help but wonder why you've come as far down the ladder as us for something like this," Grenna said suspiciously. "This is big. Very big. I've got about fifty men and women under my employ. You'd need, erm, a good deal more."

Edvren smiled and clapped his hands.

"Ah, but that's exactly it. The big companies are, first of all, already being hired by us, but they're also being watched. Yours is small enough, but has a good reputation for getting the job done."

"And the job is you want Chancellor Kivren dead," Grenna mumbled.

"This is the biggest war in history and he's picked the losing side. That's a disaster for Gadisia and he deserves to die for that," Edvren spat. "And also the whole of his government's leadership. The ministers, Ambassador Percot, the whole group."

Nalt shook where he stood, but he sensed calm from Grenna. She was thinking through her response very carefully. Nalt wanted to blurt out that of course they'd take the job. He'd never worked on anything remotely like it and it was as good an opportunity as any to make a name for himself, just like Grenna had done years previously.

"Risky. Very risky. I do like to be alive at the end of my missions to enjoy to the payment. And what will be the payment?" Grenna asked, her voice squeaking toward the end.

"500,000 pieces once you get it done. 100,000 upfront," Edvren grunted as he took out a small sack of coins and poured them onto the table. They were beautiful gold medallions encrusted with rubies and sapphires as well as unusual Gadisian markings indicating that these were governmental denominations, used for purposes of official government purchases on behalf of the Gadisian regime. "Those weren't easy to come by, but they were the only way for me to travel with that sort of money."

"These aren't exactly something I can take to a tavern, Mr. Edvren," Grenna scoffed, even though she was clearly awestruck by them.

"No. They aren't. I wouldn't want you just wandering off with 100,000 small pieces free and clear. That'd be madness. Take this as a gesture of good faith. It's more than some bigger mercenary companies clear in a year right there," he said. "Do the job, we'll cash you in on those and five times more on top of it."

Nalt saw Bafan and Wella turn toward Grenna with their jaws agape. He tried to maintain his stony demeanor, but his blood ran hot even thinking about his share of the money. He'd get at least 5,000 from Grenna. Maybe 10,000 if it went particularly well.

"Can't say no to that," Grenna said and extended her hand. Mr. Edvren happily clasped it.

"I'll share some more details later, but for now I need dinner," he grumbled. "Haven't eaten all day."

"Wella will show you our favorite place," Grenna motioned. Wella grudgingly went along with it only after a heavy eye roll. "Take him to the Fish Eye."

After they left and closed the door, Grenna leapt to her feet and threw her arms into the air.

"600,000! Fuck. I'd try to kill the Emperor for that!" she exclaimed.

"He didn't say how this will happen," Bafan cautioned. "We should be a little more nervous about things that sound this good."

"Oh, I'm a little skeptical, too," she chuckled. "But, regardless, it beats sitting on this island."

"Sure as shit does," Nalt agreed. "So, um, what's next?"

Grenna ran over to the opposite side and oppened up the cabinet, drawing a green glass bottle of some Methrangian hard liquor. She ran back, popped off its top, and took a big swig.

"Drinks!" she shouted, her voice raspy from the formidable potation. "Drinks and then we make this happen."