Iron Blooded

“The balls on that bastard,” growled the Corporal as he marched back through camp. I followed after him, glancing back to the patchwork tent we had just vacated.

“How does someone like him become an officer?” I asked.

The man sighed and shook his head.

“Frankly? Because everyone else is dead,” he said. “We used to have competent officers… used to have funds too. But these days the Nobles just don’t take us seriously. We’re mostly comprised of levies and the soldiers that other companies didn’t want. It’s a tragedy really.”

We stop to let a group of riders trot past.

“We used to be one of the greatest divisions in Eastern Kadia, you know. Everyone knew our names. But now….”

He gestured around at the small cluster of tents. Surrounding a large cook fire.

“This is all we have.”

He glanced at me and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Will.”

“Pleasure, Will. I hope your impression of us isn’t too dull. We may be a rag-tag bunch but we boast one of the best cooks on the line.”

He clapped me on the shoulder and led me to a small lean-too with a fresh bed roll.

“This will be yours.” He said. “Have you brought your equipment with you?”

“I don’t have much,” I admitted, setting down my canvas sack with a clank. I pulled a few common items out of my bag. Most of them were drops from the few lesser monsters I’d slain before coming here. A leather breastplate, two bracers, and a pair of thick leather gloves.

“Don’t worry too much about it,” said Gills. “You’ll have earned your share of drops before the month is out, don’t doubt it.”

“Are things that bad?” I recalled the burned-out husks of farms and villages I had road passed in the cart on the way here. Remnants of battles long before this war began.

Gills's face grew serious and he leaned in.

“Goblin raids are not something new to us. Usually, you press the Horde back, find the nest and take them out.”

He cut a hand through the air.

“But this time it’s different. I’ve been around for a battle or two but I’ve never seen anything like it. These Goblins are unnatural. Their skin Is pale like they came from deep underground. Their numbers are far greater than the typical nests, which scouts estimate somewhere in the thousands. What’s more, something has agitated them. They’re not behaving like any Horde I've ever seen."

Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach. Unbidden my eyes flicker to the corner of my HUD to a tiny dot labeled Quests.

I could ask him about it. Get some clarification about why these notifications keep plaguing me. But then I remember the advice of the dying man who had given me his writ.

“Don’t tell them,” he had said. “Don’t tell anyone about the Quests. They’ll kill you for it.”

“What makes you think they’re behaving differently?” I asked instead, trying to dispel my unease.

Gills takes a seat on a nearby stump.

“Well for one their armor is strange. It’s a different shape and style. But really it’s because of how they fight, see. Goblins have always been frenzied creatures, more beasts than anything. But now.... they’ve been coordinating attacks and even learning from some of their mistakes. It’s-“

“Gills are you scaring new recruits with your ghost stories again?” Interrupted a voice. I turned to see a middle-aged woman wearing an apron, one hand on her hip.

“They aren’t stories,” Gills grumbled, but I noticed his eyes softened when he looked at her.

She clucked her tongue.

“Pay him no mind,” she said. “He’s always studying the habits of Monsters. A strange pass-time for a man who spends his time killing them.”

The woman grabbed a set of wooden bowls and began ladling portions of thick porage. She sprinkled some toasted nuts into each bowl and topped them with honey. My stomach gave an involuntary growl.

“You two better take yours now, the boys will be back any moment.”

We thanked her and I gratefully accepted my bowl. I waited for it to cool, impatient to eat. Finally, when I’d blown enough on the first bite I tried it. A few chews had me ravenous for more.

“This is heaven,” I said my eyes watering from the heat. “I haven’t had anything this good in ages.”

I’d lived mostly off of game and what food I had managed to steal to stay alive. This was the first hot meal I’d had since arriving in this world. The Cook’s smile widened and she gave Gills an approving look.

“I like this one,” she said. “He’ll do.”

“Is that fresh meat I smell?”

My hunting knife was halfway from its hidden sheath in my boot when I realized that the man who had grabbed my shoulder was one of the Auxiliary soldiers. I replaced it hastily, trying to cover my alarm with a smile.

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“Sorry, didn’t see you there. I’m Will.”

“Kato,” he stuck out an arm and I gripped his wrist with my free hand. “Welcome to the 3rd Auxiliary.”

He was young, only a few years older than I was. He was tall, with short curls that clung to his head and the scuff of a goatee at his chin. His eyes went momentarily vacant in that way I’d come to associate with someone reading my stats. Then he grinned.

“Only level 10?” he said. “What have we come too? Used to be a minimum of 15 to get in. Can you swing a sword?”

“Well enough.”

“Well enough he says.” Kato chuckled. “We’ll see soon enough.”

“Quit antagonizing the trainee,” rumbled a gruff voice from behind us. One of the largest men I’d ever seen lumbered in behind Kato. He clapped him on the shoulder and gave me a disinterested once over.

He was wearing nothing but boots and a pair of padded trousers. I was reminded of one of those competitive bodybuilders from Earth. He made to set down the bushel of firewood he had been carrying and something caught my eye.

His back was a mass of tight pink and silver scars that ran from the top of his neck to his waist. It looked as if someone had taken a whip to him over and over again.

He turned and I looked back at my bowl, thoughtful. They whipped men in the Army, sure. But the way those scars had stretched over his skin made me think he had been whipped when he was younger. The scars had likely stretched as he had grown. A thief perhaps? It was hard to imagine someone whipping a child.

The giant sat on a nearby log, taking a bowl of stew from the cook.

“Thanks, Vera,” he muttered and she beamed.

“So,” said Gills. “How’d it go.”

“As expected,” said Kato. He knelt by a bed roll and rummaged in his pack for a fresh linen shirt.

“The 3rd Auxiliary came in last, but what do you expect? We have no supplies, no proper arms, and armor, no funds for regiment equipment. Most of our recruits are country bumpkins who can’t find the pointy end of a sword, no offense Will. And yet they expect us to drill with the rest of the men at arms and not look like complete fools.”

“We might if we took training more seriously” rumbled the giant. He attacked his bowl moodily with his spoon.

“Ah, but what’s the point?” Asked Kato, sprawling across the grass and propping a foot over his knee.

“It’s not like we’d get a chance to make an actual name for ourselves. Every other regiment gets first pick of the loot, drops, and monster materials. We’re lucky we even get the scraps.”

“Ever the optimist,” mumbled Vera. She stirred her large pot of porage just as a line of recruits began to form. There were some sixty men in the regiment. Most were young, but a few were veterans like Gills.

Kato had been right about the state of the equipment. Most of the men were still dressed in armor, presumably from the morning drills but it was an odd assortment. Some wore helmets and breastplates but no gauntlets or greaves.

Others had a set of mismatched armor that had clearly been from several different sets. There were a few that were more poorly equipped than I was.

I finished my breakfast and dragged a hand across my mouth.

“So,” I said. What exactly is it you guys do around here?”

Kato grinned. “I’m glad you asked newbie.”

***

The sun was going down by the time we finished shoveling horse manure. I was covered in sweat and in dire need of a wash in a nearby river.

“Well, this sucks,” I said, stabbing my spade into the ground and mopping at my forehead with my shirt sleeve.

“It didn’t used to be this way,” said Kato glumly. “The Auxiliary used to be respected. But now. Well, you’ve seen our new commander. The new Captain was a Quarter Master before all the other officers were killed off. Now he’s the one giving orders. Imagine.”

“How exactly did that happen?” I asked. “The other officers, I mean.”

“We don’t really know.” The giant, who I had come to know as Draxus passed me a water canteen.

I took a swig gratefully.

“Captain Evander was a good man as far as officers go," said Kato. "But he was… ambitious. Wanted to restore the Auxiliary to its former glory. He went out on patrol a few months past with his lieutenant and they encountered a herd of Bog Gollems. Nasty work."

"There wasn’t much left of his body to bury.” Murmured Draxus.

“There was quite the fuss, on account of him having Noble blood and all,” Kato added, leaning against a nearby bushel of hay.

“Noble blood?” I asked.

“Aye. He was Lord Blackthorne’s nephew but rumor has it he was a bastard.” He shrugged. “Bastards don’t get much favor around here.”

I handed the canteen back to Draxus, troubled.

“That’s…odd,” I mumbled. I was about to ask more but a runner jogged into the stable yard.

“Corporal Giller had a sword requisitioned for you,” he said handing me an old sword. It was iron instead of steel and when I drew the blade I saw a few small nicks of wear and tear. Ultimately though, the weight felt good and I was glad to have a weapon again.

“Tell him I said thank you,” I said, nodding.

The boy hesitated for a moment and I arched an eyebrow at him. He gave me a sheepish smile.

“He said you’d give me five copper pennies for delivering the message."

I chuckled. "Did he now?"

I rummaged into the pocket of my trousers.

“A lie is more convincing when it’s reasonable,” I told him. "Try to ask for a smaller amount next time. It might just work."

I placed a single copper penny into his hands and his eyes lit up.

“Thank ye kindly sir.” He said then gave a sloppy salute and darted back the way he had come. When I glanced up Kato was giving me an odd look.

“Remind me never to play cards with you,” he muttered. I grinned.

After the hard day's work I lined up in camp to use one of the water basins that had been placed out for us. The water was cold but I didn’t mind as I splashed my face and shoulders, rubbing the dirt away as best I could. I pulled on a clean shirt and took a seat by the cookfire as Vera passed around plates of cooked fish.

“Is her food always this good?” I asked through a mouthful. Gills smiled knowingly.

“What did I tell you? Best cook in the war camp.” I watched him as he speared his fish with a hunting knife, darting little glances at Vera when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“Are the two of you…?”

Gills laughed and his cheeks went pink.

“Throne, no. I doubt she’d even look twice at me if I asked. Besides Vera has noble blood in her veins.”

“She’s a bastard as well?” I guessed, thinking of what Kato had told me earlier. Gills winced.

“It’s not the word I’d use but I suppose it’s apt. A lot of.. Illegitimate children of Nobility or even of those of Magus houses end up in the military. It’s a hard life, but better than most of them would ever know otherwise. It’s a hard thing not to be claimed by a parent.”

He glanced at me.

“What about you? How did you grow up?” The question caught me off guard and I fumbled through my mind for an answer.

“Same as most I’d guess,” I said. “Parents weren’t around much. It was a small town without many prospects and I decided I needed.. More.”

I was worried my vague answer might arouse suspicion but Gills didn’t seem bothered. He scraped the last morsel of fish into his mouth and sat back on his stump with a sigh.

That was when we heard it. A deep and ominous howl echoed through the camp. My first thought was of a large wolf but the reaction of those around me made it clear that something was wrong. Conversations died down to silence. I could hear nothing but the crackling of the cookfire.

Then another Howl cut through the air, this one sounding closer.

“Arms!” shouted Gills. The 3rd Auxiliary exploded into action. Men rushed to snatch up their gear. I vaulted the log I had been sitting on and raced to grab my armor. I had pulled the leather breastplate over my head and tightened the clasps in seconds. But my fingers fumbled at the ties of my bracers.

“Here,” Kato stepped out of the shadows and helped me secure the clasps. He was wearing a mail hauberk and had a salet helmet tucked under one arm.

“What is it?” I asked him. He glanced up at me, and any sign of his former good humor had vanished.

“Warg riders,” he said.

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