Fortress Al-Mir

Returning to the City of Cliff did not fill Arkk with the same sense of wonder and awe that had struck him during his first approach to the city. Cliff hadn’t changed. It was still the largest settlement he had ever seen, far larger than any regular burg, with grandiose buildings and a harbor full of ships that looked too big to float. The temple atop the island mountain in the middle of the bay gleamed in the sun of the early evening, just barely out of reach of the shadow of the mountain that gave Cliff its name.

The city hadn’t changed. Arkk had.

He knew things now. He was wholly aware of the shanty town just beyond the harbor where the non-humans of the city were effectively sequestered on their own. He knew the disparity between the Duke’s dwelling and the hovels of his citizens. He knew how useless the Duke’s armies were at securing his land—between allowing groups like Rekk’ar’s and the slavers to exist and effectively abandoning the land around Katja’s bandits to whatever criminal elements decided to move in, Arkk hadn’t the slightest clue why anyone was paying taxes.

Though he had a sneaking suspicion that the Duke’s men would be quite effective at subjugating any village that failed to pay.

Everything Arkk had seen on his travels had only reinforced his opinion that the Duke was a blight on the land and needed to go.

Getting past the guards at the gate had taken a bit more work this time around. Three travelers, lightly armed, weren’t a big deal. This time, Arkk was heading into the city with a retinue of nine orcs plus Dakka, Zullie, Vezta—under a heavy cloak—Agnete—also under a cloak—and Ilya. It wasn’t an army, by any means, but was a little more concerning than blighted fungus.

Which, after all his travels, Arkk still didn’t know what blighted fungus was. Even Zullie just gave him a shrug of her shoulders.

Once he flashed the invitation from the Duke, however, the gate guards changed their tones. To his surprise, the invitation came with more than just entry to the Duke’s manor. Last time, the guard had begrudgingly pointed them in the direction of what had to be the worst stayover in the city. This time, Arkk and the rest of Company Al-Mir got themselves an escort that brought them straight through to a large stayover a stone’s throw away from the garrison. Not the fancy part of the city but far better than the shanty town beyond the harbor.

The Cliff’s Edge.

“I thought we would be staying in the Primrose again,” Ilya said, looking around a large lobby furnished with fine tables and chairs made from healthy brown wood. Several others sat around, talking and eating. Unlike the Moonshine Burg stayover, Arkk hadn’t rented out the entire place just for them. It was already occupied by several individuals. Judging by their attire, the rough yet clean looks most presented, and the weapons dangling from near everyone’s belts, it seemed to be the kind of place where mercenary types gathered. Fitting, Arkk supposed.

Case in point, Arkk recognized insignias from the Order of the Claymores gathered around one table. Apart from their presence at Darkwood Burg, he didn’t know all that much about them other than that most of them were getting on in years. The majority of their members were sourced from soldiers who fought in the war between the Evestani Sultanate and Chernlock thirty years ago. Some looked up, shooting wary looks in his direction. Or, more accurately, in the direction of the orcs.

“Think they’ll be up for some games with coin on the line?” Dakka asked, voice quiet.

“Don’t start any trouble,” Arkk said, looking away. Trouble was the last thing they needed right now.

“Didn’t start trouble last time,” Dakka said, earning a glare from Arkk. “I wasn’t cheating any more than they were.”

Arkk just shook his head. In doing so, he spotted a larger group of men bearing a crest of a white shield with a black chevron. White Company. Hawkwood’s people. Verifying the authenticity of Hawkwood’s letter was among his first tasks here at Cliff—there was still the possibility of it having been forged by the inquisitors without any knowledge of Hawkwood. As long as it was real, he hoped the rest of White Company would keep any cause for rising tensions low in the area.

“Vezta?” Arkk asked as they made their way up to the second floor where the Cliff’s Edge proprietor directed them. Arkk rented out a pair of large rooms. One for the rank-and-file orcs and another for himself and the ‘officers’. With them hopefully recruiting while in the city, he wondered if he should make ranks among the members official or not. Something to decide later. “Any sign of the inquisitors?”

Vezta, holding a pair of crystal balls, each flashing different images, shook her head. “I’ve scanned every room in the building as well as those of neighboring buildings. The scrying hasn’t been blocked yet.

“They could have disabled that,” Zullie said. “Maybe using a more magically intensive method of hiding that doesn’t betray their presence, knowing you would be doing just that.”

“Like the illusion spell you used at the academy last time we were here?”

“Exactly.”

Arkk pressed his lips together, slowly opening the door to the finer of the two rooms he had rented. “We’ve showed up without any warning. We missed the date for Hawkwood’s initial invitation so they wouldn’t even have that going for them. I doubt they managed to scramble together and hide out in the twenty minutes since we arrived.”

“Unless they were scrying on us and knew we were coming. Crystal balls are rare but not unheard of and I wouldn’t put it past the church to have a few.” Zullie stepped into the room, moving warily and eying everything around her. “Let me just… Aku menggunakan akal sehatku untuk mendeteksi aliran sihir yang aneh di sekitarku.” She reached out and grasped hold of an invisible rope, slowly drawing it toward her chest as she turned around. She did stop and shudder upon facing Vezta but quickly shook her head and kept turning around the room. “No magic beyond our own here,” she said, moving back to Arkk. “I’ll check the other room.”

“Thank you,” Arkk said with a nod of his head. Zullie slipped past him while he and the others entered the room properly.

Although designed to be an upscale room, the beds left something to be desired. The fabric was worn and the rough wool stuffing poked through at places. It was a far cry better than the Primrose had been or even the Moonshine Burg stayover, but… Arkk had grown used to the creature comforts provided by Fortress Al-Mir. The magically generated beds were perfect in just about any way that mattered.

While the others quickly picked out places to sleep and began unloading some of their travel gear, Agnete steered clear of the beds. She simply laid down a canvas tarp in one corner of the room and sat upright in a meditative pose.

They hadn’t used the teleportation circles to reach Cliff. At least not directly. They had used them to reach a little burg to the north called Charming, from which they rented a large pair of wagons and headed out to Cliff, hopefully disguising the angle of their approach. Maybe it was paranoia. Arkk hadn’t seen any evidence that they had been watched. Still, he didn’t want to lead his enemies right back to the Cursed Forest if he could help it.

Throughout their few-day journey from Charming, Arkk learned that Agnete had to be fairly wary of where she slept. While the area around her was unlikely to erupt into a raging inferno like what they had used against the slavers, it was not uncommon for her to accidentally spark flames in her sleep. The canvas she used, left behind by the inquisitors when they escaped from the false fortress, was treated specially to avoid accidental ignition.

It wasn’t perfect, evidenced by the scattered scorch marks and one edge having charred, but it was better than any kind of regular fabric.

After allowing a short time for everyone to freshen up, Arkk gathered everyone together. “First thing first,” he said, looking around. “Vezta, Zullie, and I will head to the academy. Hopefully, we can finish our investigations before anyone hears of our arrival and—”

Three light knocks at the door made Arkk tense. He was far from the only one. The orcs never liked to be far from their weapons and traveled with their armor on. It took a hasty wave of his hand to keep them from drawing their weapons. Zullie and Ilya moved to the back corner of the room, looking mildly busy while also having a clear view of the doorway. Vezta, without a care in the world, approached the door first. With her heavy cloak covering most of her body, Arkk was hoping she would come across as a particularly unusual demihuman rather than a pre-Calamity monster.

Arkk pulled one of her crystal balls to him and quickly checked the other side of the door. Tense still, Arkk gave Vezta a nod of his head, motioning toward the door.

She opened it in such a way that it was doubtful anyone would see her face. Even once fully opened, Vezta positioned herself just behind the door so that nothing but her shoulder would be seen.

The face that appeared in the open door wasn’t familiar. The white shield and black chevron on his shoulder was. The sword at the man’s hip looked more ornamental than usable. All of which had Arkk relaxing.

“Mister Arkk of Company Al-Mir, I presume?”

Arkk slowly nodded his head. “That’s correct. And you are…”

“Neil, adjutant to Hawkwood. My Lord has heard of your arrival and wishes to meet over a meal in about an hour at the White Company Headquarters.”

“That soon, huh?” Arkk asked, putting on an easy smile that he didn’t quite feel inside. It must have been one of those he had seen down in the lobby. They knew Hawkwood wanted to meet with him and went to tell him. “We missed the dinner he invited us to and he already has another set up?”

“Hawkwood understands that this likely comes as a surprise. It will be a meal between Company Al-Mir and White Company, no one else has been invited. If you are fatigued from your journey, we might be able to put it off. However, things have been busy lately. It was fortuitous that you arrived tonight. He hasn’t had many other evenings unburdened by work.”

“No, no,” Arkk said quickly. He had wanted to check out the possible fortress within the academy as soon as possible, but if putting off a meeting with Hawkwood meant not meeting with him for a significant amount of time, it was best to get that done now. “I wanted to catch up with Hawkwood as well and apologize for missing out on his initial invitation. An hour you said? And just myself?”

The adjutant slowly looked over the room. His facial expression, hidden partially behind a bushy mustache, didn’t change but Arkk did note his eyes lingering on the orcs. “The table has open seats for six.”

“Alright. We’ll be there.”

“I will deliver the good news to Hawkwood at once.” With a slight dip of his head, he turned and walked down the hallway. Vezta slowly closed the door behind him.

“Right,” Arkk said, looking back over his team. “New plan. Zullie, Agnete, you go and try to get those books you were after. Preferably without anyone finding out that anyone is interested in them, least of all us.”

Zullie shot a wary look at Agnete, the latter of whom simply nodded her head, before nodding as well. “Right this moment?”

Arkk shook his head. “Wait until we have left. Try to slip out without being seen.”

“Easy,” Zullie said.

“Myself, Ilya, Dakka, and Vezta will go to this meal—”

“Vezta?” Ilya asked, surprised. “Is that wise? No offense.”

“She is a demihuman with a skin condition,” Arkk said with a shrug. “Nothing more. I didn’t bring her along only to keep her hidden away. Hawkwood is at least a friendly face.”

“Unless he betrayed us to the inquisitors,” Ilya grumbled.

“Unless that. If that has happened, we’ll be enacting plan two. Just like we talked about,” Arkk said, meeting everyone’s eyes. “I’m hoping we’re still friends, however. That will let us gauge his reactions and decide how much we need to hide her from others.”

As Arkk spoke, he glanced over to Vezta. She nodded slowly. They had already discussed most of that on the way and during planning sessions but it was always good to reinforce the lessons. Watching her expressions over the journey, especially while their group had been questioned at the gate, had been interesting. He wondered if she was nervous about being this surrounded by possible enemies or if she wasn’t wanting to meet with other people.

She didn’t protest. Arkk turned back to the group at large.

“The rest of you, head down to the lobby and mingle. Be polite. Try to get a positive rapport with everyone—especially White Company—and also distract them, if you can, to help Zullie and Agnete slip out. Nothing disruptive. Buy everyone a round of drinks or something. I’ll reimburse you.”

Orjja and Farr’am flashed wide grins, which quickly spread across the other orcs. He figured they would be pleased with that.

“Our friends should already be here,” Arkk said, looking back to Zullie. “At the Primrose. If you think you need an extra hand carrying books, they are your best bet.”

“They,” Zullie said, rolling her eyes. “You mean the shorter of the two.”

“Well… Yes. Best to keep someone around Little Sharpened Blade and make sure he keeps out of trouble.”

“I don’t think we’ll need help,” Zullie said, tone flat. Between that spell she had been using to pack up her books on their initial departure from Cliff and Agnete’s help, she was probably right.

“It’s just an option. Orjja, later tonight or tomorrow morning, see if you can slip away. Find our friends at the Primrose and let them know that we won’t be joining them there.” Arkk paused a moment, waiting to see if anyone had input. No one spoke, leaving him to look to the three who were heading to Hawkwood’s place. “Let’s get ready.”

“Arkk! Welcome back to Cliff. How was the journey? Reports had you out in Moonshine Burg. Surprised you made such good time back.”

The ox-like man that was Hawkwood stood from his place at the dining table. Or… Arkk was pretty sure it was supposed to be a dining table. Stacks of papers surrounded Hawkwood in a semicircle, some only a few papers thick while others were stacked up to the length of his hands. The tips of Hawkwood’s fingers were stained in ink. Was everyone deep into paperwork at this time of year or just Hawkwood and Baron Doble?

“I can’t complain. I’m sorry about missing your invitation to meet with the other mercenaries. Moonshine Burg is quite far and we weren’t able to finish our business there in time. The sudden snowfall around Cliff in the last few days didn’t help.”

“I understand,” Hawkwood said with a heavy nod of his head. “The job comes first. There will be time to meet others later.”

Arkk relaxed somewhat. That was confirmation that the letter had come from Hawkwood. And unless Hawkwood was quite the actor, it didn’t seem like the inquisitors would be waiting in the wings. They had already scried through the entire place and hadn’t found anything amiss. Again, Arkk figured it was far too early for the inquisitors to have made their move unless they had been watching Arkk’s approach for a few days.

“You look… worn out,” Arkk said, not sure if he should call attention to it. “Everything alright?”

Hawkwood had a flat face and a large, pointed nose that didn’t quite sit straight on his face. Arkk imagined it had been broken many times. However, the last time Arkk saw the man, he had been clean-shaven. Now, a haggard beard had been allowed to grow and the man had dark circles around his eyes like he hadn’t been sleeping well.

For a moment, Hawkwood smiled and looked like he was about to say one thing. That smile faltered and he slowly shook his head. “Tensions are high with Evestani at the moment,” he said with a sigh. “If it weren’t winter, we would likely be in the middle of a war. As it stands, I need to get my men into tip-top shape by spring just in case the tensions remain high. I hope the winter cools some heads but… Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. It… was one of the reasons for my invitation to meet with the other mercenary leaders. Yours isn’t a large company but it has been effective in what tasks you’ve taken on.

“But I didn’t invite you here to discuss such woes,” he said before Arkk could speak. “At least not tonight. There will be time later. For now, come, sit, eat. Or eat soon, the meal will start before long now that you’ve arrived. Ilya and Dakka, was it? Welcome. Good to see you again. And…”

“Vezta,” Arkk provided. “My… chief assistant.”

Hawkwood hummed, leaning to one side to better see underneath the hood of Vezta’s cloak. His eyes widened before he schooled his expression. “This is the one who accompanied you to Silver City?”

Arkk’s eyebrows popped up in surprise. “How…”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to imply that I’ve been spying on you.” Hawkwood started clearing away the papers in front of him, stacking them at alternating angles so that he could easily unstack them later. “White Company is a large organization with at least a few members making homes in almost every major burg. Mostly as recruiters. It is quite easy to get reports on such matters, especially when those matters make as large a splash as you’ve been managing.”

“Should have had you wear a cloak back then,” Arkk grumbled, mostly to himself, as he took the seat opposite Hawkwood.

“She was also spotted in Darkwood Burg and, recently, in Moonshine Burg.” Hawkwood motioned back toward the door. “There is a rack if you would like to remove the heavy cloak. The hearth should keep us warm enough despite the chill air outside.”

“She has a skin condition,” Arkk said as Ilya took a seat to his right.

That earned him a flat look from Hawkwood.

Sighing, Arkk gave a nod to Vezta, who headed over to the rack and took off her cloak. While within Fortress Al-Mir, Vezta often used a mass of… herself in place of legs, she did have the ability to form legs. Which she had done now. Her appearance was still beyond unusual, between her unusual tone of skin, an oily and liquidy appearance that extended to her ‘clothes’, and bright yellow eyes that looked like stars against black space. Arkk still hoped that proper legs pushed her more into the realm of unusual demihuman and outside the realm of pre-Calamity monster.

Hawkwood stared. To his credit, it looked like he was trying not to. It wasn’t until Vezta took a seat to Arkk’s left that he blinked. “Huh,” was all he said.

Arkk wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He decided not to comment—drawing attention to Vezta would just draw attention to her other-ness—leaving the only noise in the room that which came from Dakka as she took her seat on the opposite side of Vezta.

The table felt unbalanced with the four of them on one side and Hawkwood alone on the other. The adjutant had brought them to the room but hadn’t joined them inside. There weren’t any other guards or members of White Company around either.

“I had a question,” Arkk said, drawing attention back to himself.

“Oh?” Hawkwood forced his eyes on Arkk.

“The Duke is having a party soon. Is he… often in the habit of inviting mercenary companies to his parties?”

Hawkwood’s bushy eyebrows twitched upward for a brief moment. “I should say so. The Duke likes to show off. He invites merchants, mercenaries, nobles, lords, barons, even the King, though I dare say that I have never seen the King at any event I’ve attended.”

“You go often?”

“Quite so. Unfortunately. White Company is large and directly contracted by the Duke for national defense. We’re hardly the only mercenary company who attends but I would be surprised if other companies manage invitations to every single party.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “Even if I wish otherwise. Why do you ask?”

Arkk reached into his jacket. Time for another test. “What do you make of this?” he asked, placing the forged invitation from the Duke down on the table. If Hawkwood immediately spotted it as a fake then at least they wouldn’t waste their time trying to get into the party.

Hawkwood hummed, reaching for the letter. He squinted at it for a short moment before turning to the stack of papers he had shoved aside. Standing and leaning around the papers, he spotted what he was looking for. He donned the pair of half-moon glasses and quickly skimmed over the letter.

“Congratulations,” Hawkwood said, lowering the letter. “I recall you mentioned wanting to go to one of these parties. Don’t know whatever for, but it looks like your efforts have paid off. I bet it was Silver City. The Duke was quite ecstatic upon finding out that the gorgon had been dealt with.”

Arkk tried his best not to look guilty. He put on a smile and accepted the letter back. “Sorry about that. I just wanted to confirm that the Duke’s invitation to Company Al-Mir was… well, genuine.”

“Should it not be?” Hawkwood asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

“I… just wasn’t sure that the Duke often invited random mercenary companies to his estate for parties.”

“You wouldn’t be incorrect. Especially not a random and brand-new mercenary company. But I have done my part to sing your praises. Not that you needed me to do much. I say, how did you manage to clear out a den of gorgon from the Silver City mines?”

“I just offered them alternate employment opportunities, contingent on them turning the miners back to normal.”

Hawkwood barked out a laugh, clapping his hands together. It didn’t last long. He took one look over the table before quirking both eyebrows up his forehead. “Oh dear, you’re serious?”

“Eight gorgon work for Company Al-Mir at the moment. Paid just as much as anyone else.”

Dakka snorted. At the table’s attention turning toward her, she shifted uncomfortably. “I’m pretty sure they’re more interested in good food over coin.”

“True. Rats made up most of their diet while in those mines,” Arkk said with a shrug. “They helped out quite a bit in annihilating a group of slavers around Moonshine Burg. Surprised your recruiters didn’t mention their presence there.”

“I didn’t ask for precise details. Like I said, it wasn’t my intention to spy.”

“Guess we did a better job at hiding them than you,” Arkk said, looking at Vezta.

A knock at the door stalled any further conversation. A pair of servants dressed in fine black and white attire entered. They promptly began setting out places around the table. A large mat went underneath a dizzying array of silver utensils. Three forks, three knives, and three spoons, each a different size. Crystal glassware came down next. The largest was filled with water but, popping the corks on a few bottles, the servants filled the others with fine wines. Finally, the servants placed down a plate in front of each of them.

The plates had only one item on them. A lumpy red… lump of something with two green leaves arrayed as if it were a berry. Whatever it was, it was cold enough to chill the plate. Arkk expected a little more—the lumpy substance could fit entirely in the palm of his hand—but the servants bowed out and left them with just the single plate.

Dakka looked utterly flabbergasted, prodding the forks like they were live snakes. Ilya wasn’t fairing any better. Vezta, as usual, had a prim and proper ghost of a smile on her lips but she left her hands in her lap and did not move toward the meal. Arkk felt like it was his turn to pop a curious eyebrow in Hawkwood’s direction.

The man, watching their expressions, burst out into a hearty round of laughter.

“Um…”

“What luck you came today!” Hawkwood said as his laughter died down. “Especially with your invitation to the Duke’s party.”

“Is this our meal?”

“One plate out of eleven or so.” He chuckled. “I had the same expression when I first saw this.” He shook his head. “I thought I might surprise you with this but now it is training for the party. A custom from the Evestani Sultanate that the Duke has adopted. They call this an Amuse-Bouche.”

“And there are eleven of these?” Dakka asked, deciding to forego the utensils entirely as she picked up the lump of red with her fingers. It looked even smaller in her hand, not having been sized proportionally to her.

“Just one Amuse-Bouche. Then an appetizer. Then a second appetizer. Seafood or soup, pasta, some small portion of meat followed by a palate cleanser. We’ll then get a salad and a main course followed by two different dessert plates. And the Duke would not take kindly to anyone picking up food with their fingers. Unless, of course, that specific plate was meant to be consumed by hand.”

Dakka dropped the lump back down on the plate. Having melted somewhat from her body heat, it splattered a bit. She promptly licked her fingers, hummed a mild note of approval, and wiped her fingers off on the placemat.

“Avoid everything you just did as well,” Hawkwood said with a wide grin.

Ilya looked at Dakka with a frown before looking to Hawkwood. “Some forewarning would have been appreciated,” she said as diplomatically as possible.

“This is your forewarning! Give me a hearty roast and a pile of potatoes to shovel in my mouth any day and you’ll see me happy and full. I wouldn’t care if you lick it off your plate. But at the party in front of the Duke? This took a little bit to get used to. Lucky you, you’ve got me to show you the ropes,” he said with a wide grin as he picked up one of the many utensils on the table. Arkk had a feeling that the moment his men notified him of Arkk’s presence, he had rounded up the cooks to make this meal solely for his own amusement. Which was reassuring more than anything else that his letter hadn’t been an inquisitorial plot. “This is a salad fork…”