Ah, the soothing rhythm of rote.

After the frenetic activity that surrounded our training in anti-tree and hand to paw

combat, the following few months of marching and weapons use were to prove a pleasant

change, at least for some of us.

I took the opportunity to absorb what was taught to us, if nothing else our ‘run in’ with

the bear had taught me just how little I knew.

In between times I improved my tenuous grasp of the written word under the tutelage of

my squad-mate (and, by fortunate happenstance, the company Quartermaster) Nico, as

well as getting an introduction to the basics of bare knuckle fighting from Grunth.

That man hit like the kick of a mule, I would be interested to see what he could do if he

took to a fight in earnest.

Other than that, the standard military training in conjunction with my duties as a

Sapper/Engineer more than adequately helped me to pass the time, and so the weeks

seemed to flow by quickly.

Certainly there were small tasks that we were given to help break the monotony…

A squad assigned to investigate the sighting of a group of brigands, gate duty outside the

walls of Coranan, even the escort of a small wagon shipment from the capital to nearby

Kuseme, but nothing of any great advent.

Not, that is, until the day the company was assembled to take possession of a shipment

from the Red Guard itself.

Though only four men, the accoutrements and attitude of these soldiers spoke volumes.

Bearing the best equipment and boasting the elite of the Thardic Legions themselves, it

didn’t take long for the speculation to run wild regarding the contents of the wagons we

were to receive.

Speculations about a payroll that were soon to be proven correct.

A Company of men to guard a few chests secured to a wagon, no wonder Captain

Ostardas seemed so relaxed. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall the general humour of

the company that day being somewhat ‘lax’, not a neglect of duty per se, but rather a

feeling of invulnerability, a faith that we were the equal of any problem that would be

sent to task us.

It was when we entered the courtyard of Ostenor Keep that our suspicions were

confirmed, for after a nights rest the company were sent to stand the walls whilst the

garrison formed the lines at the Paymasters table.

It did not take long for the smell of so much unspent money to make itself known to

Grunth and Sylud, and that night they were out seeking the main chance, the lure of lucre

obviously too strong to ignore.

Ah well, it has long been my opinion that as long as it was not on their watch, I do not

have to see it and it did not interfere in the company’s’ efficiency, they could squander

their earnings as they saw fit. I myself took the opportunity for another early night, the

confirmation that it was silver we were escorting not making my rest any easier.

The continuation of our journey towards its terminus: the ‘Fort’ at Helost, was now

accomplished with an air of expectation. Gone was the light banter and general good

feelings of the days before, now it was all a quiet watchfulness, almost an expectation of

trouble as eyes scanned the quiet forests that surrounded us.

Fortunately we were to arrive unmolested, and it was with a sense of surprise we were to

learn of our squads rotation off the watch schedule that night. Using the time to work

some more oil into the leather of my armour and boots, as well as generally clean and

tidy my equipment, I was not surprised to see Sylud and Grunth steal off into the

afternoon shadows yet again.

Those two were just looking for trouble, and somehow I knew that if there were any

available, they would find it.

Again we managed a successful ‘re-distribution of wealth’; the company marching out

with close to a thousand pennies still on the wagons and a foreboding of trouble looming

over the journey back to the barracks.

Is it not always the way?

Your expectation is a quiet introduction to military life, suddenly the company is being

rousted regarding some death in the barracks.

You go out hunting down a runaway boy, you get a full grown bear.

You spend a four-day journey expecting bandits to ambush the payroll, you get betrayed

from within…

No one was more surprised than Ostardas when we woke on the last morning to find one

chest gone, the rest empty, and Cadet Mund missing from his post.

Whilst we searched the locale for clues as to the man’s escape route (an honour accorded

solely on the basis of our ‘vast tracking experience’ during the bear incident), Ostardas

proceeded from trained officer to full panic in what seemed like seconds. Obviously his

many hours of sketching the landscape as we marched had not prepared him for the

ramifications of this event, and it was his sudden realisation that threatened to unman

him.

The fact that he felt the need to offer a one hundred-penny reward from his own purse for

the discovery of the missing coin more than proved how aware he had become of his

responsibilities.

A more thorough search of the surroundings could not have been made, and yet we were

unable to find either a clear trail away, nor the thief’s egress point through the palisade

wall. It was this piece of information that we were to return to time and time again for, as

was mentioned, if there was no path out of the fortification, then the man must still be

within.

Both Sylud and Grunth had voiced suspicions of the missing mans squad-mates, but were

unable or unwilling to produce confirming evidence sufficient to damn the men. In the

end it was their own reactions that betrayed them, showing not only a rogue’s nature, but

also a disgraceful lapse in discipline.

After having my suggestion for a search of the earth beneath their tent rebuffed by both

Sergeant Gelak and Captain Ostardas, I was told that if I wished to waste my last minutes

as a free man grubbing in the earth, I was more than welcome to.

With Sylud’s assistance, it did not take long to find the site of the men’s tent, nor to note

the evidence of freshly turned soil that had lain beneath. Even now I take a great deal of

pleasure recalling how, with the captains rather ignoble epithet of ‘Dickhead’ ringing in

my ears, I was to probe the earth and find a shallow grave and the coins beneath.

As my fellow squad members brought about the capture of the two would be brigands, I

took a moment to say a few words on the Lady’s behalf, the jagged knife wound in the

mans back a tenuous link to a death in battle, but I am sure Larani understood.

The Legion is the great equaliser, each mans past remains his own, all that comes before

enrolment irrelevant. Good words to be sure and ones the Legion swears by, yet I still

find it intriguing how during this particular incident many were willing to believe the

worst of Cadet Mund because of his presence among the penal contingent that was now

part of our company.

These thoughts and many others were with me later that week when Ostardas arrived

bearing the reward he had promised, a hefty bag of coins in a pouch of fine leather.

Weighing those pieces in my hand, I believe that was when I first felt the call of a

commission, for though Ostardas was an honourable man, a good officer he had not

proven himself to be, and deep down I felt I could do better.

It was with little regret that I returned the money to the man, and informed him that what

I had done had been for the good of us all, and therefore by helping the Legion, I also

helped myself. A career soldiers lot was to be mine, and accordingly I sought no other

reward than to rise within it’s ranks as my superiors saw fit. All I sought from him was

the chance to prove myself and to have each of my deeds rewarded or punished according

to it’s merits, just as any other soldier would.

I was not to understand the full effects this discussion with the captain would have for a

long time coming, but it did not take a genius to foresee the disappointment my squad-

mates would have to this news.

Having all come from the lesser end of the financial spectrum, we had all known the

rigors of, if not poverty, then at least ‘hard times’. I therefore resolved not to tell them

such, instead delving into the carefully hoarded remains of my miners’ pay to ensure they

did not go wanting. I have since been told many times that I should have informed them

all that I had decided to keep the reward myself as was my right, and to Morgath’s Hell

with their expectations…

To those I have but this to say; In the Legion we all rely on those we stand with,

Brothers in arms all.

What is the value of mere coins compared to that?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Next Story.

Written By: Shane Saunders (aka: Lothar of Barkus)