"Aye, sounds solid t'me, Kas. Ain't like I got much else goin' on."
"Same 'ere, been needin' a decent job fer a while. This'n would set me up fer a while."
"Count me in, too. I've never been across the sea, be nice to be paid for the journey."
Miki gave a thumbs up.
Maxine walked away.
Kasoria gave her a sidelong glance, watching her leave after giving him a simple nod. No words. Just like in Westguard trials before, when she'd not said yes or no... but she'd come along. Same as today. No words, as if she couldn't bring herself to speak to any loyalty or responsibility beyond her own needs... but she showed up. She'd done as he bid and kept her head. He forced himself not to ponder on where in the shadows she was wandering to. She knew where to find him, and vice versa.
It'll be easier when we're gone, he reassured himself. She knows the Big Stone too well, and we're not on the job yet. Over there, we'll have... structure. That'll be good for her.
Trying to be a father again, old man? How'd that work out last time?
"Then I ain't gonna labor the point. We're shippin' out fer Foster's on the dawn a' the 28th. Get squared what yeh need to, meet at the river then." He nodded to the bag of loot. "Split that up even, 'tween the four a' yeh."
"What about youse an' the wee monster?"
"Already taken care of."
The Band, as he was already referring to them in his head, didn't need much persuasion after that. They fell on their paytrial like jackals, only Raand was just a little quicker off the mark. He snatched it up and loudly proclaimed they'd be doing the splitting up on the surface, with light and ale and wenches and no dismembered, decapitated corpse to keep distracting them. Kasoria watched the brief discussion in silence. The money was the meat, Merry was the extra mile. He knew he could rely on Raand and Vaul for their hatred of all things Immortal, Belial his need for camaraderie and the bonds they'd forged campaigning, and Miki his gratitude for hauling him to a healer after the Sintraists left him for dead. But they were mercenaries, after all. They fought for pay, not ideals.
Not anymore. The wars are over and now there's just rebuilding. Men like that can find work elsewhere, but the pickings are slim. Scratching and banditry come next, and if you can get a handsome purse without resorting to that, well...
But that wasn't all, of course. Mikiros had the right of it, even if he denied it. They would follow him for the money. They would follow him because he was their Highmark, and his reputation was enough that they would accept him as their leader. Beyond that, there was the loyalty they'd all earned from each other in Rhakros. That even among the Irregulars, they'd been soldiers, watching each others backs, keeping each other alive. The campaign had been brief, but it was bloody and horrific enough that men turned from strangers to brothers just to stay sane.
Which was why Kasoria did not want to have to kill these men, some trial. So he chose the ones closest to friends he could, and paid them well. But if that wasn't enough. He needed to show them exactly what the cost of betraying him, their mission, their home, would be.
Respect and coin will bind most men to you, he thought, remembering the words of Bangun Vorund. But in our world, you need fear, too..
"Until that Trial."
One by one, they echoed the words back to him. A farewell as Etzori as the stones of this forgotten, buried hall. Even Miki ground them out, words garbled but recognizable through his mangled mouth. Kasoria put up his hood and followed Maxine out of the cavern. He didn't know where she would go exactly, but had a rough idea... and still, he would not pursue her. Keeping a tight grip on the girl wouldn't work; he had to be subtle about it, and persistent. Worries of how to do that furrowed his brow as he delved into the shadows, walking with purpose through halls and tunnels haunted by nothing but rats and ghosts.
The works he'd left behind him would break down within a break. Shapecraft didn't last forever. But they'd keep what was left of Merry suspended for a little while longer. Until the stone cracked and fell, taking his quartered body with it. But by then, no one would be there to see, or mourn, or laugh, or even wonder. Dust would settle. Torches would burn out. Skittering, crawling, gnawing things would come to feast, and by the turn of the next season, there'd be naught but bones and dried blood left there.
In the darkness, the Raggedy Man smiled.
"Same 'ere, been needin' a decent job fer a while. This'n would set me up fer a while."
"Count me in, too. I've never been across the sea, be nice to be paid for the journey."
Miki gave a thumbs up.
Maxine walked away.
Kasoria gave her a sidelong glance, watching her leave after giving him a simple nod. No words. Just like in Westguard trials before, when she'd not said yes or no... but she'd come along. Same as today. No words, as if she couldn't bring herself to speak to any loyalty or responsibility beyond her own needs... but she showed up. She'd done as he bid and kept her head. He forced himself not to ponder on where in the shadows she was wandering to. She knew where to find him, and vice versa.
It'll be easier when we're gone, he reassured himself. She knows the Big Stone too well, and we're not on the job yet. Over there, we'll have... structure. That'll be good for her.
Trying to be a father again, old man? How'd that work out last time?
"Then I ain't gonna labor the point. We're shippin' out fer Foster's on the dawn a' the 28th. Get squared what yeh need to, meet at the river then." He nodded to the bag of loot. "Split that up even, 'tween the four a' yeh."
"What about youse an' the wee monster?"
"Already taken care of."
The Band, as he was already referring to them in his head, didn't need much persuasion after that. They fell on their paytrial like jackals, only Raand was just a little quicker off the mark. He snatched it up and loudly proclaimed they'd be doing the splitting up on the surface, with light and ale and wenches and no dismembered, decapitated corpse to keep distracting them. Kasoria watched the brief discussion in silence. The money was the meat, Merry was the extra mile. He knew he could rely on Raand and Vaul for their hatred of all things Immortal, Belial his need for camaraderie and the bonds they'd forged campaigning, and Miki his gratitude for hauling him to a healer after the Sintraists left him for dead. But they were mercenaries, after all. They fought for pay, not ideals.
Not anymore. The wars are over and now there's just rebuilding. Men like that can find work elsewhere, but the pickings are slim. Scratching and banditry come next, and if you can get a handsome purse without resorting to that, well...
But that wasn't all, of course. Mikiros had the right of it, even if he denied it. They would follow him for the money. They would follow him because he was their Highmark, and his reputation was enough that they would accept him as their leader. Beyond that, there was the loyalty they'd all earned from each other in Rhakros. That even among the Irregulars, they'd been soldiers, watching each others backs, keeping each other alive. The campaign had been brief, but it was bloody and horrific enough that men turned from strangers to brothers just to stay sane.
Which was why Kasoria did not want to have to kill these men, some trial. So he chose the ones closest to friends he could, and paid them well. But if that wasn't enough. He needed to show them exactly what the cost of betraying him, their mission, their home, would be.
Respect and coin will bind most men to you, he thought, remembering the words of Bangun Vorund. But in our world, you need fear, too..
"Until that Trial."
One by one, they echoed the words back to him. A farewell as Etzori as the stones of this forgotten, buried hall. Even Miki ground them out, words garbled but recognizable through his mangled mouth. Kasoria put up his hood and followed Maxine out of the cavern. He didn't know where she would go exactly, but had a rough idea... and still, he would not pursue her. Keeping a tight grip on the girl wouldn't work; he had to be subtle about it, and persistent. Worries of how to do that furrowed his brow as he delved into the shadows, walking with purpose through halls and tunnels haunted by nothing but rats and ghosts.
The works he'd left behind him would break down within a break. Shapecraft didn't last forever. But they'd keep what was left of Merry suspended for a little while longer. Until the stone cracked and fell, taking his quartered body with it. But by then, no one would be there to see, or mourn, or laugh, or even wonder. Dust would settle. Torches would burn out. Skittering, crawling, gnawing things would come to feast, and by the turn of the next season, there'd be naught but bones and dried blood left there.
In the darkness, the Raggedy Man smiled.
