Part 5 “Goodbyes”

Paymaster Derrick is going through papers when I make it to him. He doesn't fight much anymore, mostly handles paperwork and the like. He's out of shape now, I remember when he was part of the vanguard. I hand him the pay notice, and he goes over it. He looks a little surprised and, after mumbling something about 'getting their money's worth,' counts out a stack of coins and graded gems for me to take.

“Th' Captain's puttin' a lot of faith in you givin' you this much pay to do whatever it is you're gettin' sent off t'do.”

He is, and I don't even know what to do. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone to Derrick first, he spreads news like wildfire. If anyone goes to get paid while I'm gathering my unit gear to turn in to the quartermaster, then the whole company will know I'm leaving for a while for some unknown reason.

I head back down to the wagons and take my armor bundle. I go to report to Quartermaster Stoneheaver, one of the few nonhuman members of the company. The dwarf, bending over as he takes inventory of consumable goods, looks even shorter than usual. His height belies an affinity for disemboweling his foes.

“Ah, finally here to turn in that armor. Good luck on your mission.” News spreads really fast when the paymaster is involved. I wonder if rumors about what this 'mission' is have started yet.

“Yeah, I got a bonus to purchase some personal armor with, though. Is there anywhere in town that sells decent enough stuff?” The quartermaster would know.

He rattles off a few names of smith's and tanners local to the city we've stopped in and gives their locations. I thank him. As I leave I get stopped by two of the veterans in the company, Jeremy and Norrin.

“Leo, we heard you were going off on some sort of solo mission. I figure it'd be best to help you get it done as fast as possible so you can come back quick. Here.” Jeremy hands me a pair of boots, “Those will help you walk and run faster. I'd use them on scouting duty sometimes, but I figure you're one of the best we have around here, so don't take too long.”

Norrin pulls a belt out of his magical bag. I should probably get one of those for myself, a backpack can only hold so much, too bad they're so expensive.

“I have this for you. Traveling solo is pretty dangerous, even with how skilled you are. This belt will wake you up if you're sleeping and someone grips a weapon nearby, or a predator notices you. I hope it helps you as much as you've saved me on the field.”

Norrin is skilled in his own right, but he always had a knack for getting in over his head. If he was ready to take on two guys, he'd round a corner and run into five. More often than not, I was there to make up the difference. I hope I've still been saving people when the blackouts started...

The quartermaster chimes in, “So wait, you two are giving him running boots, and a belt of alarm? The man who's killing capacity was only limited by who he knows about and how fast he can move around in all that armor? There's not going to be a bandit left alive between here and his destination!”

“You say that like it's a bad thing!” I agree with Norrin on this point. Any bandits, especially those dumb enough to mess with an armed individual, deserve to be run off or killed.

“Thanks, but you don't...”

“Nope, but we are anyway, take them. Be sure to come back before we finally catch up to your kill count, we'll never let you live it down otherwise.”

Norrin has been trying to catch up to me there for a while, he's been steadily losing ground the whole time. Personally, I don't think kill count is the right way of going about it, killing one real enemy is far and above slaughtering a hundred that don't have a clue.

“Just come back in one piece, okay?”

“Spoken like a true scout Jeremy.”

They begin to argue about the importance of scouting, a good opportunity to leave without catching their attention. Given his attitude on the field I'm unsurprised that Norrin doesn't regard scouts too highly. I manage to escape without running into any of the other men.

I walk the streets of this city thinking that I should get a map so I know where I am, too. I remember the directions, though, and follow them towards the nearest of three armorers. As I tread the deserted streets, it's still very early in the morning, I hear a yell of pain. I head deeper into the city towards it, curious, I guess. How do people live around here, I fought walking corpses that have smelled better than all this garbage. I hear a shout from a side street, I turn to look. A child? No a halfling getting mugged by a pair of men with knives.

Part 4 “Dismissal”

Bryant opens the door, inside sits The Captain. Neat stacks of paper sit atop the small table in the room, he is writing. I would imagine he's doing the math involved in running such a unit; I have never understood much about the logistics of keeping us all equipped, fed, and housed. His gear sits neatly bundled by the door, we pass it as we enter.

“Sir!” Bryant and I salute, then Bryant goes and stands in the corner, The Captain gestures for me to sit at the other end of his table.

“Leo, what the hell is going on with you?”

“I've been a bit distracted lately. Remind me of what's wrong.”

“Distracted!? That's what you have to say? Remind you?” frustration lines his brow, “Fine! For a while now, you've been reckless Leo. I'd have called you up here sooner if you had any family that I'd have to write a letter to if you died working out there, but it's just you. If you wanted to find yourself a glorious death in battle that was your business, but lately you've been downright dangerous. Have you noticed how all of the new recruits and some of the veterans have been avoiding you? The way you fight in a line is a hazard to both sides, anymore. You swing that huge sword of yours without any regard to those near you, some of the men think you're threatening them. I can't even put rookies next to you anymore, for their own safety.

“You go off with total disregard for enemy archers, I can't imagine how you manage to avoid all of those arrows. Have you ever been hit by one? If only you could teach something like that to the unit.

“This last job though, if it were a real enemy, not just some piss poor orcs equipped with barely enough to fight, you'd have gotten some people killed. We were prepped for an ambush, a clean sweep through. Why would you do that? You aren't some young greenhorn itching for his first real fight, you know better than to charge in without the order, don't you? You turned a clean sweep into a real fight. If anyone had died I wouldn't even be talking to you now, I'd have just discharged you on the spot.

“I've had Bryant looking after you between engagements for a few months, you don't show any of the signs of berserking or the blood madness I've seen grow all too often in men that have been fighting as long as you.”

Bryant chimes in with his usual fast paced cant when speaking of such things, “It's strange actually, you show some symptoms but in the end its all wrong. There's none of the post combat fatigue seen in berserkers, you actually seem quite rested. Nor is there the blatant disregard for defense. You still parry dodge and fall back at appropriate times when fighting in melee, and your swings are still tactical, I would even say borderline elegant. Yet you have blatant disregard for opposing numbers and, as the captain said, archers. While you do go for killing blows whenever you fight, a token sign of blood madness, you let anyone that drops their weapon retreat, which is something that someone that truly has the madness would never do. Also, you seem quite normal out of battle, those with blood madness are prone to violent outbursts regardless of environment. Even now while being confronted, you seem calm albeit a little confused or worried.”

The Captain gives Bryant a nod. Bryant salutes and leaves, “You are an excellent warrior, if you weren't you'd be dead by now, and if you weren't dead I'd have fired you. As much trouble as you've caused I don't want to just drop you and be responsible for what happens then.”

He sighs, clearly he doesn't like having to say this. “Listen you've been in this company since before I was captain. If you hadn't endorsed me, I think most of the veterans would have left. I can't just let you keep going on like this though. I'd like to keep you off the battlefield, focus you on training the new blood, we both know you're good at it.”

“Captain, you already know how I...”

He cuts me off, “Yes I do, but just now I've decided to give you a choice. You say you've been distracted lately, I don't like to pry but if you think I can help, I will. If not; you can take leave from our band on half pay for one year at most to wrap up whatever your problem is and come back, you can stay and train the recruits and hope your problem leaves on its own, or you can quit.”

“Sir...”

“Not up for discussion Leo, those are your choices, make one by the time everyone is ready to move out.”

He's giving me a lot of leeway just there. He cares about his men. That, and the fact that he's just about a genius at moving men on the field are why I put his name forward when old captain Greenfield retired. This company is almost all I've known for the last fifteen years, closest I've had to a family since my real one died. Have I really been acting that way when I've been blacking out? No one confronted me about it? I can't just let them know about these blackouts, the fact that I haven't brought them up so long, letting such a dangerous thing slip... I've got to figure this out alone, for my own sake.

“I'll be taking leave sir, I'll wrap this up on my own. I think it's a bit too personal to get anyone else wrapped up in. I'm sorry for having caused you so much trouble.”

He writes something down and hands me the paper, “This will get you a quarter of a year's pay, just give it to Paymaster Derrick. If you think it'll take you the full year I'm sure you'll be able to find us. You know how the equipment has been lately, so I'm afraid you'll have to go with just personal possessions. Be sure to grab a decent supply of rations, though. There's a small bonus in there to help you get some new armor, as well. I know you've spent all of your money on enhancing that claymore you've been carrying around all this time, always relying on the company's armor stores. I will be glad to have you back whenever you've fixed things up, take too long and I'll cut you back to rookie pay though, so hurry it up.”

“Sir!” I salute and leave. What did I just do? I don't know what the problem even is yet, well I have a year to figure this out. I can get by for a while on half pay, I think... Maybe never paying attention to logistics was a bad move...

Part 3 “Wake-up Call”

“Leo, Leo! Leo, are you okay?”

I awaken with a start. Sweat drips from my brow. Why am I on the ground?

“Leo, I heard a crash, looks like you fell into your armor bundle are you alright?”

I don't recognize this one, he must be new.

“I'm fine, haven't fallen out of bed in years, surprised I slept through it.”

“Are you sure you're okay? You look kind of pale.”

“It's nothing, probably just had too much to drink, my head is pounding.”

It's true enough, I do have a nasty headache. Must have had one too many last night.

“Well, no point in going back to sleep now, almost time to head out. I was up early to help tend to the horses. Mind helping? Since you're up anyway.”

I shrug and follow him to the stable where we kept our horses for the night. I help how I can, but ever since about a month before these blackouts started the horses haven't liked me getting to close while carrying my gear. We tend to use wagons for our footmen anyway, so no-one has really noticed yet. Mostly, I pack gear onto the wagon. Make sure the wagons are in good repair.

“Leo, Captain want's to speak with you,” this time its Medic Bryant. When The Captain has a medic come to bring you to him, it's not a good sign.

“Did either of you get hit with the nightmares? We missed the shaman from that orc town,and he thought he'd get some revenge I guess. One of our wizards worked up a feedback spell though, shouldn't have to worry about him again.”

It's relieving to hear that the dream wasn't actually mine. I nod and leave the rest of the work to the new guy. I follow Bryant to the room The Captain reserved for the night.

Part 2 “Oneiromancy"

The unmistakable stench of corrupt death, the scouts reported they were coming. Reports of at least five score of them. Only the slow variety, no initiative of their own beyond killing. Must be a decent necromancer to control this many. No reports of faster ghouls, or even skeletons. He must not have thought the town would have any protection, any armed force would have no trouble dealing with just the mindless shamblers. They shouldn't arrive for at least another hour or so. Why do we have to be downwind?

Something is off though. I already have my sword ready while everyone is busy putting their armor on and sharpening their weapons. There's no enemy nearby, though. I can't seem to put it away.

They arrive, and we begin the defense. With no funnel to thin their numbers upon assault, we decided a simple line of fighters would do the trick. Spearmen and those with other polearms kill them before they can get close enough to attack. Shieldmen finish off those that get through the blades. Cavalry circle around and take out any that go for our the flanks. I'm in reserve, feeling kind of left out. They wont need me for this one.

Looking around, I see that there's a woodsman chopping logs and watching us face the predicted horde, confident none will pass us.

My blade drips with blood. I stand over the corpse of the woodsman. A man yells, drawing my attention, a farmer bailing hay with a pitchfork.

I stand over a pile of reddened hay. The farmer's body audibly hits the ground. Facing further into the village, I see two children fencing with sticks.

Part 1 “Blackout”

I've been fighting for a long time, since I was fifteen, so it's been twenty-three years. It used to be I could remember every confrontation almost perfectly. I don't know when it started happening exactly, but for the last few years I can't remember anything about the battles I've been in. As soon as I draw my sword I black out, and when I come to, I'm standing at the body of the last enemy to be slain. I've never truly been concerned about it, until now.

We were hired to drive away a group of orcs that had set up a village near but still not too near the roads and townships of the Kingdom of Dhowny. They had been raiding caravans, attacking small towns, and stealing livestock and food stores. The captain of our company of mercenaries had detailed our strategy before leading the assault. I had drawn my sword, and now? This is where I find myself.

I am standing over the dead body of an unarmored orc. His face will follow me, not the face of a seasoned fighter, angry or resolute in the face of a threat, but the face of a peasant or craftsman taking up a spear to defend his home from an unstoppable demon. That demon was me. This wasn't a heartless raider, or even a trained militiaman, this orc was just another person fighting to protect what was his.

He might have run away. I would have let him, I think, my head is still kind of fuzzy on the matter. There he must have stood though, spear in hand, facing down death, dying in the end. Why did I kill him, could have just wounded him, shown him that his little hope was no hope, and let him run off with the other non combatants. Instead, he's been methodically killed. Like many other spearmen before him, he couldn't stand before my blade.

What if I hadn't blacked out? I don't know if he would've backed down, but I would have given him the chance at least. What must have gone through his head, what did I do?

“Leo?”

I turn and see Archibald, one of our more seasoned fighters, “Are you okay, Leo? You've been acting pretty strange during combat lately. Was this guy a threat? Some of the warriors might have been out of armor when we attacked.”

“I must have been caught up in the heat of battle. Saw someone with a weapon and killed him,” I don't really know, but I really don't need the guys at camp thinking I'm crazy. Am I crazy?

We wrap up the operation as we always have. The captain gives out payment to survivors. No casualties this time, that's good. Not surprising since it was a low risk operation. We throw a small celebration in honor of our success. We eat and drink at a nearby tavern, some of us leave for further 'entertainment.'

I keep to myself except when one of the others comes to talk to me. I'm popular with everyone else in the company, they say I'm the best swordsman in the group. I've probably saved more than one of them from a grisly end. Some of them recall seeing me on the field, the only way I learn what I've done anymore. I hear one of them now across the room.

“I'm surprised Leo offed that one so readily. That dumb orc must have thought he was going to slow Leo down and save his wife and kids. Leo knows better than to go after the commonfolk but that guy had a fair enough spear and I guess Leo mistook him for a real fighter,”

Now I feel that much worse.

We wrap up, and I sleep for the night.