Fortress Al-Mir

Arkk looked around the commandeered room of the Cliff’s Edge, eyes meeting with those of the assembled recruits. There were just under forty in total—not including a few he had hired outright earlier in the day before realizing just how many people had shown up. About half were beastmen and a quarter were demihumans with the remainder being humans. Not many. Especially not compared to how many people he had seen throughout the day. It was more than he expected upon arriving at Cliff, however, that number having been less than twenty.

He still wasn’t sure that doing this was the right idea but there were a few advantages. Immediately, it made Company Al-Mir look even more legitimate. Mercenary companies recruited often. Maybe not quite the way he had but similar enough. He knew that from his talks with Hawkwood.

Secondly, as much as Company Al-Mir wasn’t a regular mercenary company, they sure had been doing a good job of acting like it. More boots on the ground meant that larger operations, like handling the slavers, would hopefully be safer and far more achievable even without the heavy hitters like himself, Vezta, or Agnete. They couldn’t be everywhere.

Third, though it wasn’t necessarily an advantage, deciding against antagonizing the Duke in the immediate future made it far more palatable to hire people who had less dependence on Fortress Al-Mir. Although Dakka pointed out that he preferred to recruit those under duress, he had decided that it was more like he was willing to recruit those who had nowhere else to go. If they had nowhere else to go, their loyalties felt more firm. Maybe that wasn’t true but it made sense somewhere in his mind.

All the new recruits had to worry about were the inquisitors. Speaking of…

“There are a few things to note before you finish signing up with Company Al-Mir,” Arkk said. It was the same thing he had already told those he already recruited. Part of deciding to wait to hire the rest all at once was purely to save his breath explaining this several dozen times. “Chief among them is that the Inquisition of the Light isn’t too pleased with us. We’ve had a few run-ins with inquisitors. Only one incident turned violent. There may be incidents in the future. If that offends your morals or otherwise sounds too dangerous for you, the door is right over there,” Arkk said, motioning to the back of the room.

He paused and waited a moment, fully expecting at least one person to get up and leave. To his surprise, however, nobody did. A few glances passed between some of the assembled crowd but aside from a light cough in the back, nobody even said anything. Arkk wondered what to think about that. The beastmen, he could easily imagine, were a little too desperate for coin to concern themselves too much. The rest? He wasn’t sure about.

He would have to keep an eye on everyone for a time to make sure there were no spies among them.

Shrugging, Arkk carried on. “Company Al-Mir makes use of a magical contract for employees. It primarily offers a method of grabbing my attention. Panic, pain, or deliberate attempts to call me will let me know that you’re in trouble. Might not do a lot of good if I’m on one side of the Duchy and you’re on the other but it can—and has—meant the difference between life or death for some of our employees. As a side effect, you might be able to cast spells where you hadn’t been able to before. That is a facet we’re still experimenting with. If magical contracts sound frightening or unappealing, again, the door.”

This time, someone did stand up. Or flew up. A fairy beat its long, dragonfly-like wings and, without a word, drifted over to the door.

Arkk didn’t know too much about fairies. They were a demihuman race that had, according to legend, once been powerful spellcasters. Then the Calamity struck and magic withered. Unlike many magical species, the fairies didn’t die off. They did lose their magic. They were effectively shorter humans—though taller than gremlins—with insect wings now.

All that made him think that she had been offended at the idea that he could grant people the ability to cast spells. Or maybe she didn’t want to get her hopes up only to find out that she still couldn’t use magic. Either way, Arkk waited for the door to close behind her before looking over the rest of the crowd.

Nineteen beastmen, including three who weren’t allowed to leave, sat on one side of the room. Most had watched the fairy depart with pitying looks, furthering Arkk’s suspicion of the fairy’s reasons. The eleven demihumans—seven orcs, two gremlins, and two dark elves—just shook their heads. The seven humans maintained stiff shoulders and barely paid any attention to the rest. Not out of malice, Arkk hoped, but simply because most of them were more disciplined, having jumped ship from the Order of the Claymores.

Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any problems with that company over his stealing of their members.

“The pay is a gold coin every month. There are bonuses when you see combat and for other work performed. I mentioned this during the interviews but, as a reminder, anyone with skills outside the realm of combat is in high demand. Bonuses in pay are available for blacksmiths, magical researchers, carpenters, tailors, and so on. You can speak with one of us later on.

“As for us… Once again, I am Arkk, leader of Company Al-Mir. Outside of life-or-death situations, we’re fairly casual. Call me Arkk, boss, or whatever else you like. This is Ilya, my second-in-command.”

Ilya gave a curt nod of her head, making sure people knew who he was gesturing toward. She didn’t speak, however, and from years of knowing the elf, he could tell that she was at least a little nervous. Which Arkk found mildly amusing. She charged off with a bunch of raider orcs in tow, rescued slaves on her way back, and interacted with everyone at the fortress without trouble but set her up in front of a crowd and she balks?

Cute.

“Dakka is a primary field commander and who you’ll likely be reporting to in the immediate future.”

The large orc took in a breath, making herself look just a little taller. Her hard eyes looked over the crowd but kept drifting back to the orcs. There wouldn’t be any problems with her being the ‘runt’ of Company Al-Mir. Arkk had made sure of that during the interviews. Unless Arkk had misread the situation with the orcs currently employed, Dakka had proved herself worthy of her position. Still, he could understand her nervousness as well.

It was also cute in a way.

“Zullie is the head of magical research. If you do have a background in spellcasting, you’ll want to speak with her.”

“Please don’t,” Zullie said with a tight smile, using her middle finger to adjust the position of the rectangular glasses she wore. “Unless you have five years of study at Cliff Academy or equivalent, have invented your own spells, published books on theoretical magics, or apprenticed to any well-known names in the magical community, you’ll be useless in Al-Mir’s research division.”

“So she says,” Arkk said with a smile. “But if you have unorthodox training, you might want to check in with her anyway. She has been surprised by the capabilities of those without a formal education before,” he said, hardening his tone as he shot her a look.

Her tight smile turned to a tight-lipped frown but she nodded, accepting the point.

“Lastly, at least among those present today, Vezta. My adjutant—” He decided to steal Hawkwood’s term for his assistant as he felt it best described what Vezta was to him. “—and the primary caretaker of our headquarters. A quartermaster, in other words. If you have material needs, please ask her.”

At her introduction, Vezta lowered the hood of her heavy cloak. That caused a reaction. Not as much of a reaction as he had experienced during his first encounter with Vezta. Then again, that time had seen her spreading her mass throughout an entire room with dozens of glowing yellow eyes peering out from the shadows. Here and now, she really did look just like an unusual demihuman.

Alma, one of the recruits who wasn’t allowed to leave, visibly shuddered. The hat on her head hid her ears but small movements in the hat made it look like they flattened down against her head. She did not join in on the low murmuring going on among the rest of the recruits.

“Any questions?” Arkk asked as the noise died down. A few looked about ready to stand up and speak but Arkk headed them off. “Any questions not related to Vezta? It’s just a minor skin condition. Not contagious or harmful to anyone around her. We’d all appreciate it if you didn’t make it into a big deal.”

Despite the disbelieving looks passed around, most of those who had been about to speak didn’t. There were still a few questions. Where were the headquarters located? What kind of training was available? How did the contract work? What kind of work did Company Al-Mir specialize in? Several of the questions he had answered during the interviews but not to everyone. Some questions he had to make things up on the spot. Others he answered evasively—mostly any question related to the location of Fortress Al-Mir.

After a time, the questions tapered off. Aside from the fairy who had left, not a single one of those remaining seemed to have any kind of major problem with any of Al-Mir’s various oddities. All of them stuck around until the end.

“Queue up, please. Sign your name on the parchment. If you cannot write or read, Ilya will assist and there may be lessons available in the future. After that, you’ll receive an advance on your payment. A single gold piece.”

Let them think that the paper was the magical contract. It had a lot of text on it and several symbols that wouldn’t do anything, thanks to Zullie. There were a few hesitations in signing it but everyone did so in the end. No one hesitated to take the gold.

“Is this Evestani gold?” asked one of the former Claymores. Joanne, if he remembered correctly. “I don’t recognize it… except this is your company’s heraldry?”

“Company Al-Mir mints its own gold coins. Rest assured, I’ve not run into any problems using them within the Duchy. They typically exchange for between thirty and fifty silvers, depending on how generous the merchants are feeling.”

“Odd. Why not use the King’s stamped coin?”

Arkk shrugged. “This is what I’ve got. In any case, once paid, you’re free to go for now. As mentioned, Company Al-Mir has no official presence in Cliff City. We’re staying in the city for one week and one day for other business, which you all don’t need to be involved in as new recruits. In a week, we’ll meet back here and leave the city, heading westward. We’ll reach Fortress Al-Mir and get you all settled in properly. Enjoy yourselves, don’t spend your payment all at once, and if you need us in the interim, we’ll be here. Just find anyone with the compass maze badge and they’ll find one of us later on if we’re not around.”

“If we…” one of the beastmen started. A younger boy. Glancing down at the paper, Arkk quickly picked his name from the list. Luc. Arkk wasn’t quite sure what kind of beastmen he was, only that he had feathers instead of hair but wasn’t a harpy as he had humanoid hands and no wings. “If we don’t have anywhere else to go, can we stay here?”

Arkk considered a moment then nodded his head. “I believe there are a few bunks free in the room the majority of the employees are staying in. Anyone else wish to stay? I’m willing to rent another room if necessary.”

About two-thirds of those present voiced agreement. Every one of the beastmen plus both dark elves and one of the former Claymores. More than Arkk expected but he wasn’t all that surprised. Knowing how Cliff treated nonhumans, the chance to stay in a fancy stayover or head back to the streets they had lived on before wasn’t that difficult of a choice.

“Alright, I’ll have arrangements made. Everyone else is free to go. Alma, stay behind, I need to explain—”

“Arkk,” Ilya whispered, leaning over with a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to be late to our other appointment for the day.”

Arkk grimaced then nodded his head. “Right. Alma, Vezta will explain a few more things to you now that you’re one of us properly.”

The poor werecat looked like she was going to be sick. “Can I just wait for you to come back?”

“No. She won’t bite.”

“But…” The werecat peered over at Vezta—who had a prismatic smile on her face, completely ignoring the horror of the situation—and let out a shaky sigh. “Okay.”

“Dakka, Ilya, we’re heading out in a few minutes.”

Standing in front of a larger manor, one that easily exceeded the Baron of Langleey’s home, Arkk had to frown at the large head of a wolf adorning its front gate. It wasn’t a real wolf but was some metal artwork designed to look like one. The home of Wolf Trading Company’s founder, Aron Wolf.

If Arkk were being perfectly honest with himself, he had completely forgotten about his brief encounter with the man and his daughter out in Darkwood Burg. The same was not true in reverse. Much as Hawkwood had done in sending out his adjutant to invite him to dinner, Aron Wolf had sent out a servant with a similar invitation. Not for a meal, just for a quick chat to catch up.

Arkk wasn’t sure that he had made that large of an impression on the man. Still, the invitation had come and there was probably some good that could come from cultivating relations with a renowned merchant. No sense throwing it away. It could have come at a slightly better time. Although he trusted Vezta and Zullie to see to matters involving the recruits, being there in person would have been ideal, at least for now.

“Ah. Sir and madams, you have arrived.” A lanky man with a bushy white mustache appeared at the gate, hardly using any effort to swing it open. He stepped aside, motioning with one hand over his waist as he offered a respectful bow. “If you would follow me.”

Arkk, smoothing down the front of his black suit, stepped forward. Ilya and Dakka fell in step just behind him.

“Mister Wolf was quite thrilled to hear of your arrival. Although, he did express some disappointment when you neglected to reach out to him.”

“I’ll be sure to apologize,” Arkk said. “It was a busy few days and we just haven’t had the time for social calls yet.”

“Of course. But you made time today. I’m sure Mister Wolf is most appreciative.”

After leading them up a flagstone courtyard, they stepped into an entry hall furnished with polished wood. Several pedestals lined the walls, each bearing a curio of, presumably, high value… though Arkk doubted he would ever be interested in displaying a curled conch or broken sword. Higher on the walls, paintings lined the entry hall. Some were of simple scenery. Others were portraits of people that Arkk didn’t recognize.

Off to one side of the entry hall, the butler brought them to a small lounge. Wood cabinets, decorated with more curios, broke up smooth tan-colored walls. A few life-sized portraits and one large polished mirror filled in the spaces between the cabinets. A fireplace, already lit, warmed the room with an accompanying yellow glow.

At the center of the room, surrounding a small table, two chairs sat across from two larger couches. The chairs were occupied. For a moment, Arkk almost didn’t recognize the people. Arkk wouldn’t have described the Wolf family’s appearance in Darkwood as peasants but they had certainly been wearing cheaper traveling attire. Here and now, a middle-aged man with graying hair, styled with a tasteful touch of grease, puffed on a wooden pipe in a rich velvety-red jacket. At his side, wearing a slim yet elegant white dress, Aron Wolf’s auburn-haired daughter waved an irritated hand in front of her face, trying and failing to dispel some of the smoke.

“Mister Arkk! Welcome, welcome!” Aron Wolf stood, leaving his pipe behind in a tray on the wooden table. When he stepped around the table, hand extended to greet Arkk, his daughter grabbed it and emptied the contents into the fireplace. “Please, join us. Take a seat. Your companions as well. I think I recognize you,” he said to Dakka, “but never had the pleasure of hearing your name.”

Arkk wondered if that was true or if he was just guessing that she was one of the orcs he had with him back during their previous meeting. Dakka wasn’t wearing the armor she had used at Darkwood, but black pants, an underbust corset, and a white shirt with small wooden buttons. Her hair, braided tightly against one side of her head while hanging loose on the other, wasn’t nearly as chaotic as it had been while they had been out traveling in Darkwood. She did have her axe, even now. Slung through a leather loop hanging from her belt, she had to remove it in order to sit on one of the red couches around the table.

“Dakka.”

“Lovely,” Aron said, smiling. “And, speaking of lovely, I’m sure I would have remembered someone as beautiful as you, my dear,” he said, turning to Ilya.

Ilya started to roll her eyes. Arkk saw the very moment where she decided that doing so would be a bad idea and forced herself to stop. Instead, she put on a smile and took his offered hand.

“Ilya, Company Al-Mir’s second-in-command,” she said.

He twisted her hand to the side and stooped over, planting a kiss on the back of her glove. While his head was down, Ilya did roll her eyes. An action, Arkk noted, which Arianna mirrored.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he said, taking a little longer than necessary to release her hand.

When he finally did, Ilya and Arkk took their seats. Dakka, muscular and large as she was relative to the humans, occupied an entire couch on her own, leaving a single couch for Ilya and Arkk. They were large enough that there should have been plenty of space between them. To Arkk’s surprise, Ilya leaned over toward him, half resting against him as they settled in.

Aron hesitated a moment before smiling and retaking his seat. His hand absently grasped at the tray where he left his pipe but, finding nothing as Arianna still had it, he quickly motioned to the other occupied seat. “Arianna, my daughter, I’m sure you remember.”

“Greetings,” the girl said, tone flat.

Arkk smiled in turn. “She did leave an impression at Darkwood,” he said, prompting a polite laugh from Aron.

“I’d hope so. She’s going to be the face of Wolf Trading Company one day and needs to leave all the impressions she can!”

“Let us not discuss this now, father,” Arianna said, tone stiff. “You invited our guests to talk about them, not me.”

“Now, now. When socializing, you must offer yourself up as much as you ask of the other party. Otherwise, one side ends up feeling awkward. But, you aren’t completely incorrect,” Aron said with a laugh, looking back to Arkk. “When you said you got out to Cliff on occasion, I thought we might see each other sooner than this.”

“I don’t know that I said on occasion… just that I had been now and again.”

“Glad you arrived when you did. We’ll be taking off on business again in about two weeks. Almost missed us. Heading out to a little salt flat in Lockloch to see what we can make of the place. How about you, though? Here on business?”

“Something like that. Company Al-Mir has garnered enough renown for the Duke to take notice. We received an invitation to his next party.”

Arianna made a very vocal “Ugh,” glancing off to one side as she did so.

“Ah. I do recall you mentioning wanting to attend one of those. Next Suun, yes? I’ll be there as well. Arianna… is avoiding this one.”

“Really? Any reason why?”

“The Duke is a pig,” Arianna said in the same flat tone. “Everyone there is scarfing through his scraps. The worst of the worst—”

The smile on Aron’s face vanished in an instant. “Arianna! Please.” He looked back to Arkk, eyes stopping over Dakka and Ilya on the way. His worried expression slowly lessened, likely taking in the expressions on their faces. They were no allies of the Duke.

Ilya especially.

“Well… you shouldn’t let her comments get you down if you’re excited to go. At the very least, the food is excellent. Even Arianna agrees.”

Grudgingly, she gave a curt nod of her head.

“Though, I have to ask… you aren’t attending in… that, are you?”

Arkk glanced down at his suit and frowned at Ilya’s casual tunic. “No, no. Of course not. Hawkwood made us an appointment with a tailor. We’re seeing them tomorrow morning, actually, for some quick attire.”

“Tailor?” Aron said, latching onto the safe topic as quickly as he could. “Anyone I know?”

Arkk hesitated, drawing a complete blank. Thankfully, Ilya came to his rescue.

“I believe it was Terrier’s Silken Goods?”

“Oh. Oh no, no, no. That won’t do at all.” Aron shook his head back and forth. Even his daughter nodded along.

“Is that a problem?”

“Not if you want uniforms for a mercenary company, I suppose. Gowns and dresses for a party? Don’t worry. We can still fix this. Madame Webb’s Fine Threads is where you’ll want to go. I’ll send a letter explaining the situation. Webb is an old friend of mine. She’ll get you what you need and in half the time. I doubt Terrier would be ready by next Suun. You are cutting it a bit close, though. Next time, it would be best if you made arrangements at least a month in advance.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Arkk said. If there was a next time.

“Now that business is out of the way. Sebastian! Tea, if you please.” Aron clapped his hands together. The man with the bushy mustache quickly set out cups in front of everyone, including a larger cup for Dakka. “And while we drink, I would love to hear about your adventures. I say, Darkwood was a bit close to the adventures of a mercenary group for my tastes but I can’t deny that it was thrilling! Been up to anything else in the interim? Something impressive to have garnered the attentions of the Duke, no?”

“Well…” Arkk started. “There was a group of slavers…”