Iron Blooded-Eleven: Company of the Black Boar

The sun was high in the sky and sweat trickled down my neck and torso as I took up position again.

“Good,” said Lord Blackthorne. He had a training sword at the ready and barely seemed to be breaking a sweat as he circled me.

“Your speed has improved but mind your footwork. If you want to raise your swordsmanship to gold you’ll have to avoid abandoning the basics in times of trouble.”

He was right. In my time in battle, I’d learned a lot, but some of those skills had become bad habits. I was used to fighting in a shield wall with men behind and on either side of me. As a result, I was sometimes careless, leaving openings I otherwise wouldn’t have in a more open skirmish. Lord Blackthorne, the quality sparring partner that he was, made me feel each mistake with the sting of a practice sword.

I shored up my footing, distributing my weight and keeping the blade in a guard position. Blackthorne continued to circle, watching intently. He struck quickly, and the speed and strength of his level were immediately obvious.

I caught two of his blows on my blade and managed to redirect one before I was forced to backpedal.

“Don’t let me control the fight.” He said, pressing his advantage. I gritted my teeth, locking my retort behind them. Blackthorne was a Lord, and however much he may favor me, knew better than to test my luck.

I blocked another strike then stepped forward, ducking under a blow and spinning for an opening I thought I’d seen. Blackthorne blocked it with ease, sending me stumbling.

“A good attempt,” said the Lord thoughtfully. “I believe I have a better sense of your style. Right now you are more on the offensive, trying to press and harry your opponent with the intention of overwhelming them. A sound tactic if your opponent is less skilled than you, or if you have the advantage of surprise. However, its effect is limited. You have a tendency to overstep and that puts you off balance.”

He gestured with the tip of his practice blade and I grudgingly acknowledged his point with a nod.

“However in battle, you are much the opposite. You are on the defensive, holding your position and then repelling and pressing back against oncoming attack. In other words, punishing an enemy's aggression.”

I stopped to consider this and a picture began to form in my mind. Lord Blackthorne was right. In a shield wall, battles were often fought blow for blow. Up close and tight, the pacing was relentless but the ability of the defender was…

“It’s about control,” I said. “As you mentioned earlier. If you can control the pace, the environment, and the tempo of the fight then you can take advantage.”

Lord Blackthorne nodded his approval. His dark hair, which was usually swept back, had flopped over his forehead, giving him a much more human look. He was wearing a white shirt rolled to the elbows and a pair of plain black pants tucked into boots.

I myself had started out with a shirt, but once I had started to sweat I had quickly discarded it.

“So,” I said, readying myself again. “Where does mana control come into all this?”

Blackthorne patted his core with his free hand.

“A worthy question. Do you know how your core is responsible for stabilizing the body? How when we strike we do so with more than just arms or shoulders, but back, hips, and legs?”

I nodded, remembering Kato’s early lessons.

“Mana is, in essence, a part of our entire being. Only Magus and the gifted contain it, but if it flows in your veins you have the power to control it. It takes years to gain mastery over your mana well, but the sooner you start the better. Right now the way you use mana is sporatic. You draw upon it when you use a skill and simply release it – no precision, no guidance, no control. As a result much of that free-flowing power is lost, dissipating like that.”

He snapped his fingers.

“I want you to learn control.” He straightened and took in a deep breath, chest rising and falling.

“Breath with me,” he said. “Feel the movement of your core.”

Puzzled, I straightened, training sword resting limply in my hand as I took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. At first, I felt foolish, but after a few more times I felt my aching muscles relax a bit.

“Good,” said Blackthorne. “Now I want you to feel your core. Picture the source, an energy well filled to the brim with mana, waiting to be drawn upon. Recall the feeling of drawing on a skill, and hold that memory in your mind.”

I tried to do so, thinking back to the time I had first used bastion on the wall. A trickle of warmth flooded my core and I blinked at the unusual sensation.

“Can you sense it?”

“A little.”

Lord Blackthorne seemed pleased. “Then that is a start. When we join Blades again I want you to partition your mind. Concentrate on that center. On that feeling.”

I attempted to do as instructed, but it was easier said than done. I knew Lord Blackthorne was only using a small fraction of his power, but even so, he was quick and intentional with his strikes. I struggled to look inward and split my focus between my mana well and my sword form, especially when pressed.

After a couple of long minutes, I stepped back, breathing hard.

“I’m thinking too much,” I said, as I wiped an arm across my brow. “It’s difficult to feel the core… the mana well I mean, while I’m focused on fending off attacks.”

Lord Blackthorne considered this, pressing the tip of his practice sword into the grass and leaning on it.

“True,” he said. “Learning to partition your mind is no easy feat. Essentially, you must split your attention at will. Many believe that this is about controlling the ebb and flow of thought, but I would argue that thoughts are not something to be wrangled. Instead, try not to concentrate so hard. Focus, but allow your mind to wander between the feeling in your center, your arm, and by extension your blade.”

I lifted my sword into a guard, and this time I focused on controlling my breathing. I let my chest rise and fall, reaching inwards for the knot of energy in my core. Lord Blackthorne gave me a few minutes before he withdrew his training sword from the ground and circled me again.

I faced him, lifting my blade to center guard and counter-circling. When he came at me I went on the defensive in an attempt to buy myself time.

I parried once, twice, then stepped aside as Lord Blackthorne lunged. It was then that it happened. The heat in my core surged, tingling through my limbs towards my arms. It reminded me of the feeling I used to get when I sat in an awkward position to long as a kid, and my legs fell asleep.

Time seemed to slow minutely. I was suddenly more aware of everything. The sway of the sparse desert grass. The smell of the wind. Of my own sweat. The tip of the practice blade coming towards me…

I moved without thinking, thought giving way to motion. In one fluid movement I had stepped up and inside of Lord Blackthorne’s guard, knocking his own sword aside and bringing mine up towards his chest in a cross slash.

Blackthorne twisted, and with incredible speed, moved his torso out of the path of the blade. For a moment we stood there, breathing hard. Then I realized what I’d done.

“My Lord,” I said, alarmed. “I didn’t… it wasn’t my intention to… what was that?”

But Lord Blackthorne’s eyes glittered with amusement as he smiled.

“That, Ser William,” he said, bracing his blade over one shoulder. “Was a mana-based technique. What is your current level?”

I eyed my stats.

“twenty one, as of today.”

Lord Blackthorne whistled.

“Level 21 and already unlocking techniques? That is rare to say the least. Most gifted do not unlock the ability to use techniques until level 30. But you, as ever, seem to be the exception. Fascinating. It almost makes me wonder..” He trailed off, glancing to the side as a man in black and red livery approached. The soldier leaned over to mutter in his Lord’s ear and Blackthorne sighed.

“The duty of a Lord never ends,” he says. “Forgive me, but we’ll have to cut out training session short. I have something I must attend to.”

I bowed as Lord Blackthorne turned and left the small field, heading in the direction of the war tent. A flashing notification on my HUD made me open my menu.

New ability unlocked: Techniques.

Technique: Counter-Strike. Blocks and redirects and enemies attack against them. Can be upgraded to Superior Counter-strike.

Techniques eh? Interesting I closed my HUD and turned away, spotting Kato, Draxus, and Hade approaching as I did.

“How is he?” I asked, knowing that they had stopped by the healer's tent to check on Jorgen.

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“You’d know yourself if you went to visit.”

I looked away and heard Draxus slap Kato on the back of the head.

“Sorry, sorry. I was only saying.”

Kato was correct. I had avoided going to see Jorgen over the past few days, knowing that if I saw him in his current state I would feel that same rush of guilt that seemed to plague me these days. Draxus punched my shoulder.

“He’s fine, Joanna says he’ll make a strong recovery. The worst of it has passed, but right now he has to rest and heal. She’s a fine healer.”

I nodded, trying to wrestle a smile.

“She is at that. I’m…glad.”

“Oh stop with the whole self-flagellation routine. What happened on the plains wasn’t your fault. There were far to many variables for you to control.” Cracked his neck.

“Besides, Jorgen himself said that he’d rather us celebrate our victory than mope. We did, after all, drive out an ork attack and negotiate a ceasefire.”

“Who’s we?”

Kato grinned at me.

“There’s the Will I know.”

“I think we could all use a few drinks tonight. I heard from one of the locals that there is a tavern still up and running with barrels on tap.” He raised a brow at me. “Care to join us?”

I flipped my practice sword from hand to hand, thinking.

“Maybe you're right. It’s been all work lately for the men. Go ask Kara for the budget for some food and drink, and then gather the men. I have an announcement to make that they’re going to want to hear.”

***

The company was good and the beer was high. Or maybe it was the other way around.

I was drunk and, from what I could see, so was everyone else. The Tavern we had found ourselves at, the Prancing Pony, had mostly survived the Ceris fires. The owner had propped the doors open, and stacked tables in the courtyard, stringing up a set of small lanterns and setting out old barrels as stools.

Since it was one of the few places still open, patrons had flocked there by the dozens. Business in a bar, it seemed, was good no matter what world you were in.

The serving girl came around and Kato draped an arm across the back of his chair, giving her one of his famous grins.

“More ale?” she asked, holding up a clay jug.

“Always, my good lady.” Kato held out his mug and watched in satisfaction as the golden liquid was filled to the brim.

I took a large bite of chicken leg, grunting in annoyance when grease dripped down my chin. The food was delicious, and although Vera’s cooking was legendary, there had been a scarcity of fresh meat in the army supply.

“How is Vera?” I asked Gills as he shoveled roasted potatoes into his mouth. The veteran glanced up and swallowed before smiling wryly.

“She is well. The road is a.. hard place to raise a child. But she’s tough and she’s determined to see it through.”

Gills took a swig of ale, his eyes distant with thought.

“You know,” I never would have thought I’d have the chance to be a father. I’ve always wanted it – many men do. But I never thought I’d truly get the chance. Thanks be to the God King.”

“Or to stamina, anyway,” Muttered Kato into his mug. Draxus snorted and I fought to keep my face neutral as Gills shot him a withering look.

“Oh the arrogant stupidity of youth.”

Soft music drifted out from the tavern, and I watched as some of my men laughed, sang, and otherwise enjoyed themselves.

“It’s good to see the men in high spirits,” said Gills. “It was good of you to spread out a little coin – let them have a night to themselves.”

I took a swig of ale, the cool liquid washing down the remnants of any food.

“They’ve earned it as far as I’m concerned. Besides, I have my reasons.”

Gills set down his fork, eyeing me with interest.

“Ah yes, your mysterious announcement. Care to tell us what you are planning?”

I swiped a cloth napkin off the table and wiped my lips, giving him a sly grin. Gills rolled his eyes.

“Have it your way then.”

A commotion at the gate to the courtyard made me glance up. Two city guards had stopped a small group of people. The guards crossed their spears and barred the men and women from entering.

“Go back,” said one of the guards. “This place isn’t for the likes of you.”

“I believe that’s my que.”

Taking a last swig of ale I stood and strode, or more accurately, I stumbled towards the guards.

“Gentlemen,” I said, waving a hand. “There is no need for concern. They are with me.”

The guard glanced around, and upon seeing me his eyes widened.

“You know these people, Ser William?”

He hastily withdrew his spear, standing aside.

“My apologies for the confusion, I would have never-“

“Easy man,” I said, slapping his shoulder.

“You were only doing your job.”

Rodric, his wife, and about twenty men and two women stood outside the gate. They glanced around in confusion, taking in the sight of my soldiers eating, drinking, and being merry. Rodric inclined his head awkwardly.

“Ser William, we did as you asked,” he said, gesturing to a small handcart behind him. A black cloth lay over the cart, covering the contents within. The cart made a soft metallic rattle as the wooden wheels hit a hitch in the stone.

“I wanted to thank you,” said Rodric, holding out a large calloused hand. “For the job offer and for having faith in us to arm your company. We are honored, Ser William. Absolutely honored.”

I shook his hand and returned his smile.

“You’re a great blacksmith smith Rodric, and a good man. Having a level 30 smith will be an asset to the company. I thank you and your wife for your hard work as well.”

I released his hand and stepped back, raising my voice.

“And I thank all the volunteers for coming this evening. Please, come and join us. Food and drink is on me.”

Rodric’s eyes lit up.

“Awfully generous of you,” he said. “I do love a good beer.”

His wife sighed as he trundled off in the direction of the ale barrels but the crinkles at the corner of her eyes told me she was pleased.

“He’s so happy, Ser William.” She said. “Rodric and I had it hard.. even before the siege and the fires. He is a good smith and always has been but he lacked the money and prestige to really make it on the market. It’s more about who you know, in the mercantile guilds you see. I knew all this before I married him of course.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear.

“And I wouldn’t change a damn thing. The man is a gem and a better father I’ve never seen. I know your company is small and the pay will be modest at first. But it’s a good opportunity you’ve given him.”

I inclined my head, touched by her words.

As the other men and women behind her filed forward tentatively, I saw my soldiers welcome them. Plates of food were brought out, beers were poured and the revelries continued. I leaned against a lamppost enjoying the warmth of the night and the comfort of a blessedly full stomach.

Kara approached, holding two mugs of ale. She passed me one, which I took gratefully.

“The bill won’t be cheap,” she mused, gazing over the rim of her drink towards the boisterous tavern. “But I see the merit in it. The men needed a boost in morale. Still,” she glanced at me.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Ah,” I swirled the cup's contents. “That old question. The answer is yes and no. My decision here is an investment, and investments have risk. However,” I nodded towards where Rodric and his wife now stood, arms around each other as they swayed to music.

“I believe the risk is well worth the reward of success.”

Kara considered this then she nodded.

“You’ve done as I asked?”

“Of course.”

She reached down and pulled a small pouch that clinked as she passed it to me. I passed her back the empty mug and gave her my best reassuring smile.

“Let’s make history.”

The small band in the tavern belted out a jaunty tune and my soldiers danced, drank, and laughed together. I saw Astrid step up onto the dance floor, whisking the serving girl into her arms and swinging her around to the music. I gave her a mock salute.

By the time the music came to a close everyone was flush-cheeked and in high spirits. I took that opportunity to make my move. Stepping unto a nearby table I called the attention of all gathered there. Those outside turned to look at me, and those in the tavern stood up, filing out to hear my news.

I looked around at the upturned faces and swallowed down the prick of nerves in my chest. I had thought this through long and hard. I knew what had to be done.

“Gentlemen,” I called, spreading my hands. “And ladies.”

Astrid raised her cup.

“I welcome you to a night of celebration. It has been a long road for the Kadian army, and tonight we honor the fallen in the best way we know how. By living for them, and honoring their noble sacrifice. For Throne and Country. For family and honor.”

“And for coin!” shouted Kato and I resisted the urge to toss something at him. A silence had fallen over the crowd and I saw many glazed eyes lost in remembrance. The good times, the bad. For better or worse this was the life we had chosen. The life of soldiers.

“So again I welcome you, both old and new. Tonight marks a special night – one you are bound to remember. Many of you have fought in the Auxiliary. Underpaid and underappreciated as men at arms, soldiers, and knights under the banner of lords gain all the glory. Still others are here because you lost your homes and your livelihoods in the siege of Ceris. You are trying to rebuild but times are hard, and taxes are harder.”

“Aye!” shouted one man from the back. There were a few chuckles. I allowed a small smile.

“Tonight I offer you a choice I hope you will consider. I won’t sugarcoat it. The life of a soldier is a harsh one. Long marches, dire odds, and no certainty of victory at the end. The training will be hard, and I will ask much of every single one of you. In the end, I can offer you three things. I can offer you a fair wage and a place to sleep.”

I glanced at Kato and Draxus. “I can offer you brotherhood, and men that will stand beside you even when hell rains down around you. And I can offer you freedom. The freedom to roam, the freedom to explore, and more importantly, the ability to grow. This is what my company has to offer.”

Kara stepped forward holding a piece of parchment paper and a quill and well of ink. She set them down on the table beside where I stood and stepped back. I climbed down, striding across the stone to the handcart and gripping the fabric. I tugged it free, revealing sets of carefully crafted arms and armor. There was a collective gasp.

“If you join my company, you will receive basic arms and armor. You will receive your first month of pay in advance, and share tents with your brothers and sisters. Our first few months will be lean, as many of you are yet untrained. But I can promise you that within a few months, you will be leveled and ready to take on greater challenges.”

I stared around at them, at the sea of eyes filled with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

“So I ask you,” I said, lowering my voice for dramatic effect. “Who stands with me?”

The silence stretched on so long that I began to wonder if I’d made a terrible mistake. Perhaps I’d been too drunk, and the speech I’d delivered had come out as nonsense. Then the first cheers started. Men stepped forward, grabbing the quill and signing their names under the company banner.

Some where men I’d fought with in the auxiliary. Others were former citizens of Ceris. Guardsman, hunters, and other combat classes had lost their homes and livelihoods.

Kara watched with wide eyes from beside me.

“Forty one,” she said. “Forty one men have joined the Company of the Black Boar.”

The number made me smile. It was a start, and a good one.

“Throne,” said Kara, making the holy sign. “We’re going to need a bigger supply cart.”

As the lanterns sputtered low I took the time to meet my new men. I clasped hands, clapped shoulders, and learned the names of those who had placed their lives in my hands.

“You want to turn a rag-tag group of shop guards, hunters, and city patrolmen into soldiers?” Draxus shook his head, but his dark eyes sparkled with amusement. “It’s bold I’ll give you that.”

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“It’s necessary,” I said. “Fifteen men isn’t enough to make a difference. If we want to have a chance then we’ll have to train hard, recruit where we can, and turn a profit on the march.”

“Like a mercenary company.”

I grinned.

“Something like that.”

“Does Lord Blackthorne know?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Draxus cocked an eyebrow but didn’t otherwise press me. I was about to take another drink when the bladder I had been ignoring let out a protest. Sighing, I excused myself and stepped into a nearby alleyway.

I had just finished zipping up when movement caught my attention and I glanced to the side. The alleyway was dark, and the light of the lamppost barely illuminated more than a few feet around me. I squinted into the darkness and saw it again.

Movement in the shadow. Slowly and quietly I drew Iron Fang, and stepped forward, aware that I was wearing minimal armor.

I was certain I’d seen something but there was always the chance it had been a dog or some other animal. A cool breeze wafted through the alley way, bringing with it a strange sweet smell. One I’d scented before. Rot?

Something bumped against my boot and I glanced down, heart thundering until I saw it. A rat and a large one. It was lying on its side, jaws open and eyes glassy. Blood trickled out from beneath it’s body, staining the cobblestones.

Just a rat then? It must have been a dog or a cat that killed it. I examined the body for a moment before sliding Iron Fang back into its sheath.

I was only being paranoid. I stood there for a moment, staring into the deep darkness of the alleyway. Then I turned and rejoined the revelry.