The Wandering Soldier, Chapter Two

“Captain! Captain, where are you?” Gorenne was in a panic, the cool air washing over her as she raced. Why did nobody believe her? What reason do they have not to retain proper form and coordination? They came here to do battle, not to enjoy themselves! As she ran, the occasional waft of heat burdened with the scent of sweat, smoke and alcohol would touch her. On she ran, the sound of her armour rattling with every step and swing of her arms. Once upon a time, the armour would fatigue her just by walking, but that was a long time ago. Back when this set was made, a travelling smith had hammered the plates she hoarded from fallen soldiers to something that was more befitting to her figure, save for some space to allow for things like muscle development. Incidentally, his assessment for how she would grow as a soldier was flawless, but how he was able to reform steel without a fire perplexed her. There was even a time, not very long ago, when the heady aromas of mercenaries enjoying their fill would make her nauseous, but whilst ever she was poised to strike, not even the head of an arrow in her thigh could stop her or stave her concentration. Perhaps the others didn’t respect her, but they had to admire her willingness to stand on the front lines every single time and survive. As she ran, contemplating what she had encountered, a force struck her head on, hurtling both of them to the ground.

“What in Stars name?” A voice from the other had cried out after having their breath knocked out. It was a girl’s voice. A familiar voice.

“You!” Gorenne sat up and looked at the girl, though upon their eyes meeting, she immediately snapped. It was the brunette from that tent. She wore nothing save her undergarments. Her hair was a matted mess and it smelled like the Captain, though her breath carried the stench of every other thing in that disgusting place.

“Me??” The girl snarled in return, clamouring backward from beneath Gorenne in a huff. “Look at you prancing about just because you had your heart broken. You could have killed me!”

“There’s no time for this. Where’s the captain? I need to speak with him now.”

The girl sneered at this. “Captain Frelon doesn’t want to see you”. What was her problem? The girl keeps implying such nonsense. “He’s been trying to avoid you all day and you won’t take no for an answer. Course he wanted to see me, unlike you.”

Gorenne climbed to her feet and looked around Horeshit Street to locate the tent the Captain was in. Granted, she was a little dazed, but it was manageable. She’s encountered worse. “There’s going to be an ambush.”

“Are you still on about that? Nobody is coming.”

“And why wouldn’t they?” Gorenne shrieked. At this point she could almost see the future painted before her, yet nobody wanted to understand. How could she stand by and let this happen? It was like the Stars had turn their backs on her. “Why wouldn’t our client’s enemy send soldiers to take us on? Why, because they came to some diplomatic agreement? I haven’t heard of such stupidity! Ladies and Lords are women and men like all the rest of us and what separates them from us is they can make sacrifices without losing what they consider to be important.”

“So?” The brunette bobbled her head and fluttered her eyelids at this. “What does that have to do with you acting like a wet blanket?”

Gorenne was acting like a wet blanket because she felt as though she was obligated to do so. The Captain always seemed so busy trying to manage everything by himself, so it made sense to her that someone would take some responsibility to help. Granted, there was a small part of her that considered that she would never manage to organise a handful of ruffians to operate like an official army funded by the crown, but she wouldn’t forgive herself for never trying.

“Someone has to,” she quietly muttered, the sound of her voice may have been lost to the twirling voices and clamour of cutlery in the sweet night air.

“Well nobody asked you to, and you never asked anybody if they needed you.” The brunette called back, walking toward her with a look of disappointment. “You’re just a soldier, Gorenne. Try acting like one.”

“A soldier would inform her Captain of anything suspicious or out of the ordinary that would otherwise put him at a disadvantage”, she turned her eyes to the rows of tents illuminated by torches and other small campfires, some of the horses tied to various posts between them jostle the soil beneath their hooves in the firelight. As the breeze would catch it, small wafts of manure would tickle her nice and heat would touch her face, which by this stage felt like a total mess of sweat, dirt, and tears. Her eyes stung, and it wasn’t purely from the ashes blowing toward her. She really did love them. “She would try her best to do what was right by what she felt was important, even if nobody believed her.” To that end, she left the brunette, who while still planted on the ground, watched her in disbelief. Gorenne hoped the girl would find what was important to her. Perhaps she didn’t have anything important. As Gorenne’s eyes scanned the thoroughfares, she heard the girl call out behind her.

“Someone stop her!” She stammered. “She’s going to do something to captain Frelon!” Gorenne felt something strike inside her, but rather than turn to react, she pressed on. The captain had to know. He had to, and nobody seemed to know or care except for her. Why hadn’t it occurred to anyone to survey the surrounding area? As she thought about this, another sensation caught her attention. Gorenne spun on her feet kept planted on the trampled earth and drew her sheathed sword. A loud clack echoed in the night as Gorenne’s eyes, now fierce and laden with fire burned in the brunette’s look of fear and… and something else. The tip of a cavalry spear shimmered just before her face.

“Do you have any idea what you are doing?” Gorenne asked, calmly yet with all the heart of a honed dagger. Tonight was not one to duel with fools.

“You’re not going to see him,” She stammered, her voice shaken. It was clear she wasn’t used to combat under her own weight. Her legs were certainly defined due to the battles fought in the saddle, but relying on the weight of a mount amounted to all one’s prowess being bound therein. Gorenne swept her sword upward, pushing the spear back against the girl which caused her to stumble back. Why in the Star’s name is she acting like this? Under what premise is there to keep her from seeing the Captain? Nobody else wants to listen to her, she’s tried for days to manage things all by herself and not a single soul wants to heed her command. Has she wasted all of this time? Has she expended her energy for nothing? What has her life amounted to?

“All our lives depend on my seeing him. I-”

“What’s going on here?” A man’s voice shot out from the shadows. The firelight in Gorenne’s eye was too bright to make him out, but he was roughly the same height as she was, and far wider. “Renata, why are you two fighting?”

“Gorenne here is mad at Captain Frelon because he won’t listen to her.”

“Is that all? Come on, you two, have a drink.”

“For the last time, get out of my way!” Gorenne screeched. The world was spinning once more. Oh, did she hate this feeling! “I have to see the captain, now.”

“She’s been trying to assume his role, spiking his drinks. You’ve seen how she bosses everyone around. I don’t know what she’s capable of, but he asked me to investigate her.”

“Is that so?” The man queried, sounding somewhat less drunk than everyone else that night, and surprisingly calm. Who was he? “Gorenne, put your sword down. Go have a sleep.” To this, Gorenne swiped her sword at the man, her swing forced a wail through her gritted teeth. Rather than ducking, the man caught her sword with one hand and winced slightly. “You do have quite the swing in you for a pretty one,” he said, calmly. As the gust from her swing swept over the nearby fire pit. The flames licked and twirled toward the stars, and a glimpse of the man’s face had caught Gorenne’s eyes. What she saw was something she had never seen before. He was human, or so he looked. He was about as human as a wax model, near indistinguishable from the appearance of one yet in no way exactly alike. Black marbles gazed at her from waxy eyelids, his steel jaw and frozen brow barely moved as he smiled ever so slightly. Gorenne’s anger turned to fear. He had no soul. “Who are you?”

“You will never know my name.” To that, the man plucked the sword out of Gorenne’s death grip and drove its hilt in her face in a single, instantaneous motion. As she fell backward, the pain searing through her head, she heard the brunette and waxy figure, though from far away. 

“Why this one?” 

“She doesn't belong here…”

Farther and farther away in to darkness she fell until there was nothing.