Private Tales The Next Chapter..

[Agatha]

The Company rose early in preparation for the day ahead. Cookfires were lit, rations doled out. The icy glow of moonlight gave way to the burnished glow of the rising sun as the men ate, readying themselves for the long march to come. No-one enjoyed early starts, but you took the good with the bad. Besides, this was enemy country now. Staying in one spot for too long was almost like asking for trouble to find you.

Though, there were some among the Blackshields who would argue that trouble found you regardless of what you did to prevent it.

Only a matter of time and place, thought Agatha, studying herself in a mirror that looked like it had seen better days. Just like me. Having spent most of the night pouring over reports, there had been little time for sleep. Splashing her face with water, the she-orc dressed and breakfasted alone. Toki wafted in and out like a bad smell, bringing her news and fair tidings.

Redbad departed in the meanwhile, to scout along the route the Company would be taking.

The one thing you don't do is march blind. An old lesson, steeped in military history. Agatha had never been one to repeat the mistakes of the past, willingly or otherwise.

Leaving her tent to be dismantled by those she trusted, the Captain made her way down to Mender's. The Chief Medicae didn't seem surprised to see her. 'Need something?' she asked, sipping at a steaming cup of coffee. 'Let me guess. Having trouble sleeping?' Agatha sniffed.

'Something like that,' she said, wagging a finger at the pot on Mender's desk. 'Got any of that going spare?'

Nodding, Mender went fishing for another cup.

'How's the new orderly doing?'

'Well enough,' she replied, neither here nor there. 'Questioned her a bit. Seems the lass knows her onions, though I'm sure she still has a fair ways to go.' Pouring Agatha's coffee, Mender said, 'Yo, Rori! Fancy a brew?'

 

[Rori]

Rori quickly found herself knee-deep in the responsibilities that came with her role as an orderly. Mender, had put her to work fetching supplies and tending to whatever tasks needed doing. She was almost certain that most of her requests had simply been to test her, but she had managed thus far not to embarrass herself. Rori welcomed the challenges and the distraction of the work, and each task chipped away at the lingering doubts in her mind. Perhaps she really could find her purpose here.

She was in the midst of grinding dried herbs into a mortar bowl when the captain entered the tent. Rori straightened, setting down her pestle and wiping her hands on a cloth, her mossy eyes meeting Agatha's. A subtle warmth touched her cheeks, but she steadied herself and offered a nod in greeting.

"Morning, Captain," she acknowledged, her voice carrying a hint of newfound confidence. Rori's gaze then shifted to Mender as she poured a cup of coffee. The aroma of the brew filled the tent, and Rori's fatigue seemed to momentarily lift. It was a welcome invitation.

"Yes please. Thank you," she said politely, accepting the offer with a gracious smile. The stiffness from the previous days' trials and the bruises that blemished her pale skin were fading, and she moved with a little more ease. As she joined the impromptu meeting, her gaze shifted between the two orc women. They made it difficult not to feel so meagre. Rori was a slender thing, these women were.. well, lean.

"Will we be on the move today..?" she asked, her eyes shifting between the two as she gently blew hot steam from her cup. Here, she was still a little too close to home for her comfort.

 

[Agatha]

Fishing a nearby camp stool out from behind a pile of medical supplies, Agatha joined the two medicaes by the desk. Mender had found a tin cup from somewhere, and was already in the middle of pouring her a cup of coffee when Rori settled down with them.

'Morning, Rori,' Agatha replied, taking the steaming cup from Mender with a grateful nod. 'You settling in okay?'

Sitting down, the Captain took a sip of her brew. It was almost routine, this little catch-up. Agatha and Mender went way back. Before the Company, before the events that had seen their raiding party disbanded. More like destroyed. Few had survived the curse that had befallen their group, Mender and Agatha being two. The third, Rulgak, her sister, had parted ways with her shortly after.

She was a part of the Knights of Anathaeum now. A blacksmith of all things. How she had gone from fighting to fixing was beyond Agatha, but she wholeheartedly supported Rulgak in her endeavours. Sides, she kind of liked the Dawn Captain, Helena.

Another face I haven't seen in a while, she thought, noticing the look in Rori's eye.

Smiling at her, Agatha nodded. 'An hour's time. Two, tops! I want us away from here before the High King sends his war dogs to sniff us out.' They weren't the only mercenaries around, after all. Following the scrap in Taernsby, High King Brannigan had taken measures to wipe their cohort out wholesale. Including Cato's.

Almost like he doesn't know who he's dealing with.

'I've sent Redbad and Graves off already. Plan on crossing the Sanguine at Stonebridge, before they get the chance to box us in. Odds are they'll already have people waiting for us by the time we get there. In which case, we'll have to fight our way through.' Agatha shrugged. 'Just a heads-up. For both of you.'

Agatha glanced at Rori.

'Have you equipped yourself from the stores yet?'

 

[Rori]

Her eyes found Agatha's over the rim of her cup as she sipped carefully, swallowing down the first comforting mouthful of coffee with a sigh. "Uh, I think so. Yes, thank you." she answered, her gaze darting to Mender, hoping the medicae wouldn't immediately disagree and claim her to be hopeless.

Agatha's mention of the impending departure drew her attention back however, and Rori's mossy eyes widened. The prospect of leaving the immediate vicinity of her past was a welcome one, but the warning of potential conflict with the High King's forces made her pulse quicken. Violence so soon?

"Equipped, myself?.." she asked hesitantly, hoping that didn't mean what she thought it meant. Her head shook regardless, she had nothing on her other than the clothes she wore and the cup from which she drank. "N-no. Not yet." she cleared her throat.

"I.." her cheeks burned so hot her hair rivalled the fiery tresses that framed her face. She swallowed what she'd been about to say and lifted her chin. "I'll do so straight away."

 

[Agatha]

Hiding her smile behind a tin cup, Agatha nodded. 'Good.' Sipping her coffee, the Captain shared a look with Mender. The physician had a smile that mirrored hers. 'You, uh, ever held a weapon before, Rori?' She asked, recognising just how nervous her new orderly was at the prospect of potentially having to use one. Agatha had another question on her mind, though.

Have you ever killed before, Rori?

Deciding some things were better left unasked, Agatha shared another look with Mender. Her friend nodded, cleared her throat. 'It's just a precaution,' she said. 'Should the worst ever come to pass, the Captain here wants us prepared. To fight, if needs be, but mainly to protect our charges.' Mender gestured at the empty tent around them. Most of her work involved dealing with the occasional bout of sickness in the ranks. Colds, flu, weeping sores- that sort of thing.

Rori's would, too, if she had the minerals. Mender believed she did.

'Should the time ever come where you do need to swing a blade, just remember: the rest of the Company's already dead. So, you'd best make a good show of it.' Smiling, Mender nodded reassuringly. 'Don't mind her.' Agatha chimed in, grinning despite herself. 'Gallows humour. Keeps us sane. Well, mostly.' She shot a look at Mender.

The medicae wriggled her fingers.

 

[Rori]

Rori's eyes shifted between Agatha and Mender, catching the unspoken exchange. Subtle as a brick, she mused, suppressing the urge to huff in exasperation. The last thing she wanted was to be useless, or to give in to the creeping tendrils of hopelessness. There was a desire within her to prove that she was more than her past dictated, and simultaneously, a longing to believe it herself.

Perhaps looking less terrified would be a good place to start.

She'd been about to respond to Agatha when Mender interjected, initially offering comfort before delivering a stark reality check. Rori managed to shift her expression of terror into one of concern, her gaze flickering between the two orc women. How could they approach the prospect of fighting and killing with anything but trepidation?

"Right..." Rori's response carried a touch of dry humour, a thin veil over the unease that had settled within her. These women, with their nonchalant approach to the impending possibility of violence, were utterly unhinged.

The idea of facing violence, of potentially taking a life, sank like a stone in her stomach. How could anyone not feel trepidation at the thought of such a profound shift in their existence? It wasn't merely about weapons and combat; it was about crossing a moral threshold she had never dared to approach. The notion of preparing to fight felt like an impending storm, casting shadows across the fledgling sense of purpose she had started to build.. If it came to that, Rori suspected she would simply brace herself for death. She had faced violence before, and she could even admit to having wished for the death of another, but she had never attempted to wield it herself.

Setting her cup down, Rori cleared her throat, summoning a fleeting smile in an attempt to mask her dread. "I suppose I better learn fast..." Her words carried a mixture of determination and resignation, acknowledging the harsh reality of the perilous path she had now chosen to walk. "If someone could show me how to hold a blade without killing myself in the process, that'd be fantastic."

 

[Agatha]

'I'm sure someone around camp will be willing to teach you the fundamentals,' Mender drawled, her voice monotonous as she stared pointedly at Agatha. Oh? We're doing that, huh? 'Sure. Why not? Not like I've got anything going on right now,' she replied, her tone halfway playful. Between the paperwork piling up on her desk and the prospect of imminent annihilation, Agatha liked to think she was handling the situation well.

Time would be the ultimate decider.

Embracing the burn, the Captain saw off most of her coffee before swishing the dregs on the ground. 'Thanks for the brew,' she said, making to stand. Her gaze fell on Rori. 'I'll be outside, when you're ready.' Turning on her heel, Agatha brushed aside the tent flap in her way. She could still picture Rori's expression, the way her eyes seemed to ask a thousand questions without ever touching her lips.

About the morality of the business she now found herself a part of, about the killing aspect of it. Agatha wondered whether she had regarded the other side of the coin. She was, after all, an orderly. A medicae, responsible for the lives of the men and women who ended up in her care.

Did she know what it meant to watch them die? How it felt to witness the life leave their bodies, despite her best efforts to save them?

Agatha didn't envy Mender none, just as she knew Mender didn't envy her.

We all have our crosses to bear, the she-orc thought, admiring the efficiency with which her warriors set about their tasks. A wry, half-heard joke made her smile slightly. Then, Rori was by her shoulder, and the smile was gone. 'All set?' She asked, knowing she didn't really have to. Rori was efficient, too.

'Let's go make a warrior out of you.'

 

[Rori]

Rori met Agatha's gaze with a resolute nod. "Right. Warrior." she replied again, her voice carrying a mix of determination and a touch of nerves. "Warrori." she snorted at a terrible attempt at humour. "..Sorry."

Following Agatha through the bustling camp, Rori soon found herself standing before an array of weapons laid out for inspection. Swords and spears of various lengths, axes gleaming with a dangerous edge, and bows with quivers of arrows—all presented the multifaceted nature of combat. The weight of each weapon seemed to whisper tales of battles long past, and Rori felt a certain reverence in the air.

Her fingers trailed over the feathered flights of a quiver of arrows, clearly captivated by their elegance. However, the impracticality of mastering archery in the limited time available wasn't lost on her. It would take considerable dedication, and in a close-quarters confrontation, the skill was bloody pointless.

Her gaze fell upon a set of long daggers, the twin blades glinting in the ambient light. An unspoken question lingered in her eyes as she glanced at Agatha. The daggers seemed more manageable, perhaps less reliant on extensive training, and more suitable for someone who needed a swift and efficient means of self-defence - something she prayed she would not require the use of.

"What about...?" Rori began, her words trailing off as her eyes questioned Agatha, seeking guidance on the choice before her.

 

[Agatha]

Rori had doe-eyes. Pretty, like the rest of her. 'A dagger is always a good place to start,' Agatha nodded, plucking one of the daggers from the pile. Weighing it in the palm of her hand, the she-orc offered the weapon hilt-first to Rori. The blade came with a simple sheath, though, Agatha made sure to pick out the dagger's twin, just in case. 'I would recommend you choose a longer weapon, too. Never know when you might need the extra reach.'

Smiling, she grabbed a spear, presented it to woman stood next to her.

'Easy enough to use. Light. Manoeuvrable. Can't go wrong with a spear.' Indeed, as a youth, one of the first weapons Agatha had ever possessed was a spear. Taller than her by a full head, it could be held this way and that. Couple it with a shield and you were in for some smooth sailing. Assuming you knew how to use them.

'How about it, Warrori?' Agatha struggled to get the word out. She laughed to hide her embarrassment, blushing at how stupid it sounded coming from her lips. 'Want me to teach you?'

 

[Rori]

Rori's eyes followed the Captain's movements as she selected the dagger from the pile. The glint of the blade in Agatha's palm held a certain allure, and she couldn't help but be captivated by the simplicity and potential power it represented. The offer of the dagger, hilt-first, was met with a nod as she accepted the weapon. It was heavier than she expected.

Agatha's recommendation for a longer weapon prompted her to consider the options, and as the she-orc presented a spear, describing its virtues, Rori took comfort in her wisdom and experience in such things.

Agatha's attempt at the terrible nickname caught Rori by surprise, her laughter helping in diffusing the tension, and a blush of colour spread across Rori's cheeks, matching Agatha's own embarrassment. The genuine warmth in Agatha's eyes made the moment feel more like an invitation than an order.

Her shoulders rose and fell as she drew a breath, meeting Agatha's gaze with a determined glint in her eyes. "Alright.." she said as she accepted the offered spear, feeling the weight of the weapon in her hands. Lighter than she expected. The smooth, polished surface gleamed in the daylight, and she assumed a tentative grip as she gazed up at the glinting steel atop it.

"Teach me," she nodded eagerly, and cleared her throat as she looked back at the orc... "Please."

 

[Agatha]

Agatha smiled. 'Such politeness,' she said, amused and somewhat warmed by Rori's demureness. Most of her warriors were loud, foul-mouthed heathens. There were a select few who didn't let the coin and the killing effect their behaviour, and most of them held command positions in the Company.

'Alright! Allow me to make some time in my very busy schedule and I'll... uh, get back to you.'

Rubbing at the back of her neck, Agatha turned to the heaps of weapons left on display. A faint blush touched her cheeks, and she could feel them burning as she nodded to a place further down the row of tents. 'Okay, right, let's go get you some armour.' Another necessity of the trade, that. You wouldn't live long without it, though, Agatha had known more than her share of fools who had thought otherwise.

The blacksmith, a thick-bearded, heavily-muscled man in an apron and fuck all else, looked up as the two women approached. 'Ho there, Captain!' Standing, the big man lumbered his way towards them. 'What can I do for you this fine morning? Looking to get yer plate fixed up?' His eyes drifted to Rori. He nodded jovially.

'Looking to get our new friend here some armour, actually,' Agatha told him, clasping forearms in greeting. The blacksmith had a grip on him capable of rending steel. The she-orc was made of sterner stuff. 'This is Rori, our newest orderly. Rori, this is Jost, the Second's sole blacksmith, though I'm sure his young proteges are running around here somewhere.'

Grinning, Jost nodded. 'Probably off hitting each other with sticks, truth be told. Ain't got much interest in the forge, as of yet, but like my missus keeps tellin' me, they're only little.' Chuckling, Jost glanced at Rori. 'Anything in particularly you were lookin' for, lass? A shirt of mail, perhaps?'

Rori

 

[Rori]

Rosy lips twisted at Agatha's acknowledgement of her manners and she lifted a shoulder in a quick shrug. "Manners cost nothing, but can earn you everything.." she recited with her chin up and her back straight, impersonating her father. She snorted bitterly, though, what he'd meant was subservience.

Armour, right.. Her lips curled, her mind still on her father whom, if he could see her dressed in armour and holding a weapon, would likely drop dead with disapproval.

The blacksmith's voice called her from her thoughts and she had to double-take, her brows shooting upward. "O-oh.." she looked away, anywhere but at the man who was clearly stark naked beneath his apron. Thank the Gods for his apron.

There was no hiding her blush now, not when it accompanied a nervous laugh as she stared down at her feet.. "Hello, Jost." she greeted him, curling a strand of red around her ear. She spared a glance up at the Agatha at the mention of proteges, and then to the man's jolly expression as he spoke of his 'missus' and little ones. Children?

There were families here?..

"Oh.." she dropped her gaze once more.. "Mail sounds delightful. Just, you know.. Anything to save me from being impaled would be wonderful, thank you." she cleared her throat.

 

[Agatha]

Jost grinned sheepishly. Behind him, the portable forge out of which he plied his trade fizzled and glowed. 'Well, if you'd like ta step inta ma office, I'll see about gettin' ya suited and booted.' Gesturing to a pair of wagons parked across from his forge, Jost began to hum and haw as, between them, they began searching for Rori's armour.

'Now, before ya say anythin', most o' these bits and bobs weren't made by me. I'm just the poor sod who has ta fix 'em up and palm 'em off.'

His eyes darted over to Agatha.

'Don't you go looking at me like that,' she smiled. 'I have people to do my fighting for me these days.' As much as this was true, she had never been one to sit back and let others bleed for her. That was partly why the dumb shits had voted her in, and not Brutus.

'On your left, Jost! Beside the breastplate.'

Turning, the blacksmith clapped his hands together excitedly as he found what Agatha was staring at. 'This should do it!' He announced, pulling out a short-sleeved shirt of mail and showing it off to Rori. 'Ye might need to cinch it up a little, but we won' know until ya try it on. Here!'

Watching from the sidelines, Agatha shuffled closer as Jost handed the shirt to Rori.

'If you need help, just say. They can be a bastard to put on.'

 

[Rori]

The redhead chuffed at the banter between the two, her gaze settling on Agatha as she fell into distant thought. She had no doubt the woman would be a formidable opponent to stand against, but it was clear that she treated her men and women well, or they wouldn't have shared such warmth with her. She realised that despite the fear she first felt - the fear that was instilled in most human children when fed stories of monsters, Rori felt comfort, not unease in the female's presence, and that wasn't something she was used to..

Jost's announcement dragged her attention back to him, and the chainmail shirt he held up. Rori's shoulders shrugged, her head nodding. "Looks about right.. I think.." she answered. What the hell did she know about armour? She let out a quiet oof as her arms dipped under the unexpected weight of it.. "I'm going to need to build a little muscle.." she laughed under her breath.

Agatha's offer was all too kind, and Rori responded with a sheepish smile and a quick nod.. "That would be appreciated."