Flashback So I Just Guard This?

[Desmond Svante]

20th of Spring, 512 AV Desmond was alone in his tent, one of many pitched up in Tent City. Lea was out and about, probably playing with the neighbour’s kids a few tents down. It was unusual that Desmond wasn’t out with his younger sister to watch over her as he usually does, but Lea had insisted that she could look out for herself. This was unexpected, as the timid girl usually wanted her big brother Des to be with her at all times when outside. Reluctantly Desmond had agreed, so here he was now in his tent, lying lazily on his bed roll. Just lying around with nothing to do was not a plan Des favoured. He needed to do something. So he reached over to the side and pulled over his father’s old gladius. Lifting it up in the air in front of him, Des looked sadly upon the weapon. It was one of the few items salvaged in an almost miraculous manner from the ruins of his old home, his parents crushed under the rubble of the collapsing apartment. The scene was still fresh in the young man’s mind, standing before what was his home with a numb mind and body, Lea clinging to his side whimpering. Why did some freak storm have to come along and wreak his life, why? And why had fate planned for Des and his sister to have been conveniently outside their home when the storm tore it down? He just did not know, only the gods knew that. The young man pushed himself up to his feet and released the gladius from its wooden prison with the familiar sound of sword pulled sheathe. Placing the blade of the sword in front, Desmond moved his body into a fighter’s stance, gladius in his left hand. With a vertical slash to the right followed by a quick thrust, the young man began practicing to fight off his boredom. Imagining the form of a shadowy thug facing him, boredom incarnate of his mind, Des began slashing and stabbing at the ethereal figment of his imagination. With a series of slashes and stabs Des continued. Diagonal slash down to the left, stab to the shoulder. Horizontal slash upwards a knee to the stomach. A step to the left avoiding the thug’s dagger, and then just to finish things a little more personally a swift chop of his left hand at the neck, a sweeping kick to the knees with his right leg and a final blow to the head with his gladius. With his shadow opponent on the ground bleeding to death, Desmond set his gladius and imagination down to rest for a moment The little bit of practice was a thing of relative ease to Des, fighting being a thing the young man knew how to do fairly well. In actuality, one of the few things he could actually do competently. Desmond was raised a fighter, and his father’s training only helped to solidify that fact. But how was a fighter to make money? Brawls and street fights were frankly not a way to earn mizas, not that Des tries to involve himself in those sorts of things often. That left one option: mercenary work. Des’s old man had been a mercenary, and many a night he had told the young Des and Lea stories of his exploits of fighting bandits over precious caravan loads and of taking down targets for their bounties. And yet, Des felt uneasy about the option. Nothing about the fighting that was part and parcel with the job, but something else. Was it the fact that he might have to take another person’s life just for miza? There was indeed that thought. But also the danger with it. If Des wasn’t careful, he might as well end up dead on a mission. It wasn’t his own death that particularly worried the young man. No it was about his sister. Him dying leave Lea truly alone in this world, and that was something Desmond never wanted to happen. Speaking of Lea, where was his sister? It had already been a bell or so since she had left the tent. A slight worry came over Desmond. Moving to the entrance of his tent, he peeked his head outside and looked around. Just the same old scene of row upon rows of shabby and dirty tents, ragged beggars here and there; but no Lea. Could something have happened to her? Desmond shook his head and drew his head back in. He really shouldn’t fuss about his sister’s whereabouts all the time. Beside, the neighbours were sure to keep an eye out on her while she played with their children. Give a few chimes or so and she should be back. Upon concluding on this note, Desmond picked up his gladius and turned to face anew the newly resurrected thug of his mind’s eye.

[Desmond Svante]

The several chimes Desmond allotted for himself to wait were already over. Worry was starting to cloud the protective brother’s mind, to the point that he began losing interest in training with his gladius. From sparring with his illusory foe the young man was now reduced to anxious pacing around his tent, his weapon laid aside. Where the Hai was Lea right now? She should be back by now… or maybe she is still playing with the neighbours. For a whole two bells? There would be no way, something must have happened! Finally the worrisome thoughts and speculating of Des’s mind got the better of him. “Oh where are you Lea?” With a grim and anxious expression Desmond stepped out of his tent and turned to walk to where he knew Lea’s friends lived. Only to see Lea come bounding toward him exuberantly almost the instance his foot left the tent. See? No need to worry! Lea ran over to her older brother gleefully. “Des! I’m back!” Desmond sighed in relief and knelt down, “Oh good, you’re safe Lea. I told you not to stay outside for longer than a bell or so.” “I know, but I met someone special today!” “Someone special?” The young man could only guess what his sister could mean by special. Probably some new kid she met and befriended. For despite her timid appearance, Lea was quite friendly with children her age. Of course, that wouldn’t apply to adults. Sunberth was much to dangerous to let one’s guard down around adults, adults who could potentially hurt or even kill you. Every Sunberthan child knew that. “Yeah! It’s one of father’s old friends, see?” The little girl pointed eagerly toward the slowly approaching form of a large, grizzled looking man. Looking up to see Lea’s “special someone”, Des half-laughed. “No need to make such suspense about it, it’s just old Gregor.” Desmond’s formerly anxious look melted away to a more relaxed and cheerful expression as he stood up to greet Gregor. “Didn’t expect to see you drop by here Gregor.” The young fighter smiled up at the older man, who was by far much taller than Desmond, and in physique easily overwhelmed the young man. The man had an overall hard and rough look, like many in Suberth do, his face scarred and somewhat fierce looking with his unruly mat of peppered hair on both head and face. Yet his starkly contrasting deep blue eyes twinkled almost merrily, giving him a softer gaze than what one would expect. “And I see yer doin’ alright kid,” Gregor chuckled as he patted Desmond on the shoulder, albeit a bit roughly. “Mind if I go in?” “Oh no, come right in.” Desmond opened the flap that was the door to his tent open for Gregor, who had to crouch to get inside. Once the large man was inside, Des gave a good-natured smirk to his sister, “You hauled in someone quite special didn’t you?” “Yup!” Lea gave her brother a big grin and whipped inside. Their father’s friend had taken a seat on Desmond’s bedroll, but not that Des really minded as he stayed standing up inside the tent while Lea daintitly sat on her bedroll.. “I see you got yerselves a lil’ place with what money you could get eh?” A smirk of a more joking nature was slipping onto Des’s lips, his usually seriousness now almost nonexistent. ‘It isn’t much, but it works for now. It’s mostly thanks to you that we could get the miza to buy this tent. But I don’t think you dropped by to just admire the shabby tents here did you Gregor?” Gregor was an old friend of his father’s, a fellow mercenary. After their parent’s deaths the mercenary and his wife had looked after the Svante siblings for a while and even gave them some money to get alittle tent out in Tent City. In all truth, Desmond was grateful for the man. “That you got right son.” Gregor placed a yellowed sheet of parchment on the dirt floor of the tent. “I know you’re probably a little low on cash, right?” Desmond nodded weakly. What timing, just when he had been worrying about money issues a few chimes ago here comes Gregor! It was like a god sent answer to his questions. “You know yer father an’ I were ol’ mercenaries when he was still a young chap, and I still am one. I just got a little job guardin’ a little merchant’s stock for a few nights, and on signing up I told the man I’d get a young lackey to help me out with the guardin.” “And the young lackey… is me?” “’Exactly! You got a bit of your old man Clyde’s sharpness don’chya? So what do you say Desmond? I know you need the miza, and I warrant this ain’t much of a hard job.” Gregor slid the parchment over to Desmond, looking expectantly at the young man. Desmond sat looking thoughtfully at the job paper for a moment. This wasn’t even real mercenary work but just simple guarding. What could possibly go wrong? Well, there was always the danger of thieves coming to take the goods by force, meaning a fight. Oh why was he worrying so much? He would just beat the stuffing out of those poor blokes. It wasn’t a hard job after all, right? “Desmond nodded firmly to Gregor. “I’ll take it. Where do I go to?” “Just go to the warehouses at the Castle Commons in a few bells. You know what, you can bring Lea o’er to my apartment tonight. I’m sure Beth would be glad to see the lil’ munchkin again.” Gregor grinned over to Lea, who in turned smiled excitedly and nodded. “Well then, why don’t we go now?” “Now?” Des was taken aback by this but managed to keep it in, mostly. “Yes now. Come on, I’ll treat you two to a warm meal tonight.” …… Several Bells Later Syna’s rays were starting to tip eerily in a red sunset glow over Sunberth as Desmond walked through the streets with Gregor to the warehouse. He had prepared himself for the job, having put on his steel gauntlets and gladius on his side. According to what Gregor had told him over supper, the merchant would be waiting for them at the warehouse. “So ya nervous kid?” Gregor said to Desmond. “Nervous? By no way, it’s just a guarding job.” Desmond brushed it aside coolly, but in actuality he was feeling a tinge of anxiety, which he thought unfounded. It’s not like he had never been in fights before, he’d been in plenty. “So how much did the merchant say he was paying us?” “Oh, not a grand amount. I think it was something like five or three gold mizas each, or something like that ever’ night for each person.” “That’s it?” “Mind ya it’s just a guarding job. It’s nothin’ real hard, so the cash is a bit lackin’ in some opinions. Oh and ‘ere we are!” The two stood before a rather unimposing warehouse, bleak and flimsy like most buildings in Sunberth. Standing outside its doors was the merchant, a thin man of small stature and dwarfish features. The merchant jerked his head in Des’s direction. “This the lackey you were talking about?” His expression seemed less than impressed, much to Desmond’s annoyance. “He’s a fine fighter I tell ya, his father was as tough as nails, and I should know that.” “Whatever you say.” The merchant tiredly stepped up to Desmond and glared at him. “Now, you’re going to guard the goods in that warehouse with your life you hear me? If someone comes knocking down the door to steal something, gut’em” The merchant took a step back and began strolling away, “I’ll give you your payments tomorrow morning. Till then, do your jobs.” The small man walked away without a second look at Des and Gregor. The two mercenaries walked into the warehouse and shut the door. It was filled with an odd assortment of boxes, not a single individual item out on view. “So… I just guard this?” Desmond looked expectantly at the older mercenary. “Yup, we just guard this now.” “Oh.” Gregor took from his back the morningstar he had, so in suit Desmond unsheathed his gladius. And now came the waiting.

[Desmond Svante]

A Bell or so Later… Night had fallen upon Sunberth with Leth glowing faintly overhead, but the city was only starting get lively in its disorderly debaucheries. Hooting and drinking was going into full swings in the taverns around the city, and slowly out of dark alleys crept out unsavoury folk, ready to do their sordid deeds. To two mercenaries in a warehouse at the Castle Commons though, they had a job to do, and guard they did. Although for the past bell it had been almost uneventful aside from nonchalant chatting between the older mercenary and the younger. But that soon enough, or was it too soon, that the evening was about to get more eventful. Several torches had been lit up by Gregor and placed around the warehouse, illuminating the building with a faint orange glow of light. Desmond was slowly patrolling around the pile of boxes in the middle of the warehouse, looking rather bored. “Has it only been a bell so far?” Des asked Gregor as he walked back to the front of the warehouse to where Gregor was keeping watch.. “Yup. The blokes at the bars prol’ly only just begun their nightly rabbling.” The older man chuckled drily, “A mug of ale would hit the spot right now.” “You’re just making me want a drink now old guy.” “I can’t help it. Man’s gotta love his drink. But,” Gregor gave Desmond a hard knock on the head with his hand, “You better be more attentive than that boy. Keep your eyes wide an’ open.” Desmond lax and bored expression bolted up to attentiveness as he picked himself up from his slouch. “Of course I will, I’ll be attentive.” Gregor grinned wryly at Des, “Good, cause we’ve got some company already.” The man pointed toward the entrance with his thumb, holding his morningstar at ready. “Company?” Desmond followed suit and got ready as he looked at the entrance. From outside the sound of heavy footsteps were heard, followed by a loud crash as the door was kicked down by someone. In entered two men, clearly thugs from their rough appearances and the shortswords in their hands. One was a hulking brute of a man, his bald head shining by torchlight, while the other was a thin looking man, but something about him spelt slyness in big letters in the air. Both glared directly at the two guards before them, and so in turn Desmond gave a cold glare back at them, his gladius ready. Gregor smirked jokingly at the two intruders, “Well aren’chya the most unsubtle bunch’o folk I’ve ever seen.” Desmond remained silent, preferring to let the older man do the talking. The young man was already looking over the two intrudees. Aside from the swords, the two weren’t armoured in any form; hired thugs by a rival merchant or a gang? Proabably. “We ain’t here to talk around ya old geezer.” The smaller of the two spoke up with a sleezy voice, “We just want to get some stuff and bolt out of here. Right Ed?” The small man poked the giant by the name of Ed. “Uh yeah. That’s right Van.” Why do appearances act as a foreshadow to one’s voice? Ed’s tone was that expected from a boorish man his size. Here Desmond spoke up, “Well, I’m afraid than that you’ll just have to go away empty handed, since we just can’t let you walk off with this stuff.” Gregor nodded in agreeance, “Ya heard the lad, ya not getting shyke. The both of ya dumb blokes.” Des could only shake his head slightly. OF course Gregor would try to rile the two thugs up. A fight was inevitable at this rate. “Then we’ll just have to take it by force eh? If you don’t value your lives come at us!” The little man named Van yelled as he rushed forward with his sword swinging, Ed close behind him. Gregor gave a last grin and made a bounding leap to the left, getting around Van to take a hefty wing at Ed, who somehow despite his size nimbly jumped aside. That left the smaller man Van for Desmond to deal with. Clearly it could be seen that Van was berserk with his shortsword as Des caught his wild slash at his head with his gladius and pushed the opposing blade aside, giving him an opening to deliver a swift kick with left leg at Van. Though wild and untrained with the sword, Van proved to be more than just a good dodger. Leaping to the right, the thug gave a vertical strike with his sword. Yet again an easily seen through move, it was countered by Des holding his blade horizontal to the slash. This time Des went with a horizontal slash followed up by a twisting thrust. The thug was barely lucky this time as the sharp blade edge caught the cloth of his shirt, but not so much later as Des’s gladius stabbed him in the right thigh. The small man crouched and howled in pain, only to meet more pain as Desmond’s gauntleted hand crashed into his side. As Van fell to the ground, Des placed the tip of his gladius on Van’s throat. “Give it up, you picked the wrong warehouse to rob.” The young man stated coldly to his opponent. “Petch you…” was all Van growled back. Van’s cry was heard by Ed, who wasn’t faring much better against Gregor, his sword already knocked out of his hand as he backed away from the mercenary. Upon seeing his fellow thief injured, the large man turned away from his current and suddenly rushed at Desmond. Taken surprise by Ed’s sudden appearance, Des was slammed to the ground by the large man’s tackle. Painfully crashing into the ground, Des felt the wind knocked out of him by the sheer weight of the tackle, but still managed to hold onto his weapon which was practically frozen unto his hand now. Van now stood over him with Ed, eyes burning with fiery hate has he lifted his sword ready to stab Des. “Who said we picked the wrong warehouse hmm?” But there was one thing they forgot: Gregor. Van’s victory was dashed away with a squealching thud as Gregor’s morningstar crashed into Ed’s head, splattering bits of skull and brain over Van. The remaining thief could only watch in horror as the giant form of his partner fell to the ground with a lifeless thud. Jumping back in fright, Van trembled as he pointed his sword menacingly at Gregor. “Stay back! Stay back! I’ll kill the petching boy if you get any closer!” Now, about that “petching boy”. That petching boy had in the mean time grabbed a handful of dirt and flung the clod straight at Van’s face. It was super effective! The thief reeled from the sudden dirt in his eyes, giving Des the chance to jump back up and give a strong chop of his left hand at the man’s neck, and then a final stab into the man’s guts. Pulling out his sword from Van’s body, Des watched panting as his opponent fell to the ground, bleeding to death. “I said you picked the wrong warehouse to rob, didn’t I?” A sadistic smirk crept onto Des’s face for a moment, but vanished almost as soon as it appeared. Van looked up with death approaching in his eyes. “Damn… you… petcher… But…” Van coughed up blood as he grinned a last grin, “There’s still more fellas comin’, oh much tougher fellas than us.” And with that the thug departed for Dira. Kneeling down next to Van’s body, Des wiped his gladius blade on the body’s clothes and took the short sword still in the corpse’s hand. Looking back at Gregor he saw him doing much the same with the other body, but he was also searching up the body for… something. “What are you doing Gegor? Can’t leave the man in peace?” Des cocked his head questioningly. Gregor shook his head, “Just checkin’ for some loot, if there is any,” the mercenary pulled out a few copper mizas, “Nothin’ much. Could probably sell the weapons for a few miza too ya know.” Nodding, Desmond also began looking through the dead man’s pockets. In all honesty it felt strange looking through the pockets, which yielded nothing but a few mizas, nothing more. Standing back up, Desmond stretched his arms out. Despite having just killed, he seemed little perturbed by it. Perhaps it’s because he had already accepted death as part of his job, of his life in Sunberth in life. “So… we just leave the bodies here?” “Just leave’em. The merchant will deal with it. But you better stay sharp boy, if what that Van fella said was true we should be expecting some more company tonight, tougher company.” “Right.” So round one was done, now it was once again waiting for the incoming round two.