Everyone is born with something. For some, that’s food and a warm bed. For others, it’s gold and riches. Education, apprenticeship, talent and even health are all things one might take for granted. Meanwhile, I was only given one thing: my body. Shelter, sustenance, even role-models and caretakers were never mine. When I did receive such things, they were hard-won luxuries. My family was enslaved by bandits when I was very young. Eventually those bandits were taken out by a group of mercenaries. My father was already dead so my mother convinced the mercenaries to take us in. Through cooking, cleaning and various other things we secured a life in the group.

However, I don’t really mind all that.

“Life has many starting points, but we all have potential to reach a good place.” I explained.

“Hmm…I’m not saying I don’t believe you, Rowan, but…” Edil began to reply but he trailed off as the ground began to shake. Sounds of rocks trembling under the quake gave way to hooves stomping the earth. Then, even that was eclipsed by the hoots and victory-cries of the mercenaries. They had returned successfully.

Campfires roared as the rest of us rolled out booze and food for the battle-worn party. The camp itself was rather large for a mercenary group, holding over a hundred people. The ones who returned, the actual fighters, made up two-thirds of the group. The rest of us were either female or simply too young to fight. All of us cheered as Kite, our current leader, dismounted in the middle of camp.

“Everyone, we’ve enjoyed another success today!” He raised his fist to incite a second burst of cheers. “Unlike my predecessor, I’m not much for speeches. So let’s just get to the fun part!”

He grabbed a goblet of wine from the nearest woman and drank it in one gulp. Another round of cheering and clapping followed. Then the rest of the mercenaries began to indulge themselves. Those like me joined in the festivities but we were careful not to take anything coveted by the fighters.

“Geez, what are the knights in lord Sarvo’s army doing? They were sieging that castle for months.” I overhear the mercenaries and move in closer. “…Then we come in from an odd angle and bam! It’s over.”

“We were fighting for a good half of the day, don’t just say bam…” Another man reprised him with a cackle.

They assisted in a siege? I leaned in further. However, the rest of their conversation was disappointingly thin on details. I would have loved to ask exactly how they cooperated with the lord’s knights. Of course, I wouldn’t ask such things unless I wanted a beating. The mercenaries didn’t enjoy talking about bloody work, especially while they’re drinking.

“Then the enemy commander strode up on a white-haired stallion. I stood before him, my own horse had already died by that point.”

The exception to this rule was Kite. His stories, while untrustworthy, would always gather a large crowd.

“He unsheathed a sword that was two…no, three times as large as mine. Heck, it could have cut me in half!”

I waded out of the crowd while he roared with laughter. After a few minutes of wandering I spotted Edil standing at the outskirts of the party. I tapped him on the shoulder and he whipped around.

“Wha? Oh, hey Rowan.”

“Kite’s stories not doing it for you?” I grinned.

“Even after growing up with them…I’ve never enjoyed these loud parties.” Edil sighed.

“Don’t worry, I’m not a fan myself.” A slight lie, but we had better things to discuss. “Can we continue our talk from earlier?”

“Oh, sure. You were talking about your past right?”

“Well, more about the future.” I smiled sheepishly. “What do you think you’ll be doing in a year from now?”

An obvious question.

“By that time we’ll both be old enough to fight. So, I’ll be fighting with everyone else…or have already died, ha, ha.” Edil certainly inherited his sense of humor from the camp.

“What about five years from now?”

“More of the same.”

“Ten years?”

“Same as five but with more pay.”

“Do you see a problem there?” I raised an eyebrow. “Years of sparse jobs and tough fighting. All while moving this camp around the kingdom. Even then, if everything goes well, we’d barely be welcome in a local tavern. Lords see us as disposable and serfs fear us as though we were bandits. Have you noticed there’s only a few older folks in this group? There’s no future for us here.”

“Even if you say that…everyone’s pretty cheerful.”

“Everyone that comes back.” I sighed.

“Then what do you want to be?” Edil frowned. Being someone born into the group, I knew he wouldn’t appreciate my criticism. However, some problems can only be tackled head-on.

“When we’re not collecting bounties, most of our work is with lords. What if we were strong enough for them to see us as more than disposable workers? If we show true mettle on the battlefield and become well-known throughout the kingdom…would it be strange if we were offered knighthood?”

“Yes, yes it would.” Edil replied candidly. “Any lord willing to take in mercenaries would be throwing his reputation away.”

“You forget the power of fame.” I shook my head. “If our names spread across the kingdom then it will only be a matter of time.”

“Huh…”

“Anyways, we’ll be fighting as mercenaries soon but I don’t intend on dying as one. Whether or not you think my dreams are far-fetched, you should still want to become a better fighter for your own sake. So train with me in our spare time.”

Edil didn’t reply quickly. I noticed myself swallow loudly, everything built up to this question. Becoming a knight was my own dream and I knew it would be a tough sell to Edil. Training, however, would be different. In a less than a year we’ll be fighting for our lives. Anyone would want to increase their chances of survival.

“We already get lessons from the older mercenaries. The rest is something to be learned on the battlefield.” Edil shook his head.

“…Really? You don’t want to practice more?”

“Not really. If there’s a year before I have to fight, then I’ll enjoy myself until then.” Edil shrugged and turned away. “Good luck with being a knight though…I guess.”

“…” I opened my mouth and then promptly closed it, dumbstruck. How could anyone be so short-sighted? Then I looked around the camp and found my answer. The men were drinking and laughing as if there was no tomorrow. I noticed a few faces missing and realized there really wasn’t a tomorrow for them. Eat and drink if you win, then keep fighting until you lose. That’s the mercenary lifestyle.

I slunk away from the camp, stashing a sword under my shirt as I went. Once the cheers were barely audible I unsheathed the sword and took a deep breath. What did it matter? If these people want such a life, then I won’t rely on them.

I swung my sword down into the earth, then slowly raised it over my shoulder. I repeated this brutal strike over and over. Every hit sprayed my clothes with dirt but, slowly, I began to calm down. Sighing once more, I took on a proper fighting stance. Then I spent the rest of the day as I always do: practicing.