The Life and Suffering of a Mercenary Captain

In the center of Markus City stood an overly large and ornate building that could have been mistaken for a church except for one simple detail.

On the doors of the building were the words Town Hall. In the Dinus Kingdom, town halls served as a place of multiple purposes.

It had your administrative section, which housed the mayor and his assistants. The mercantile section, which housed arguably the most important part of the building; the Merchants Guild.

Here the Head Merchant labored to make deals with all of the other cities that benefited Markus City and might one day see him or her a promotion to a bigger city. Lastly, and no less important, the judiciary section.

The judiciary section of the town hall was the largest, in part being home to the local guard which had an attached barracks and training yard. It also housed the local court and the current judge in the city.

Not worth mentioning was the city jail, located underneath guard barracks. It was deemed the safest place to hold criminals, after all, who in their right mind would try to break into or out of the guards' home?

It was on this sunny day in particular, when temperatures were most uncomfortable, that court was in session.

At the judge's bench was an old man not younger than sixty years in appearance. His regal robes of dark red hung off his bony frame. His wrinkled face and sunken eyes gave rise to the appearance of a man who lived for his work, instead of living for his life. What hair he had left upon his head adorned the sides of it in small wisps instead of atop it.

A younger, middle-aged assistant with a headful of brown hair sat to his right. The judge slammed his gavel against the counter top and the assistant cried out.

"All rise, court is now in session. One Trevon of Markus to be tried and judged by His Honorable, Judge Linley von Markus!"

"You may sit now, except you, criminal. You may stay standing." The judge said, frowning as he looked upon the criminal before him. The man was naught skin and bones with ratty clothing that barely hung upon his frame.

Perhaps he had seen better days, but if he had, they were long gone. The man's dull brown eyes stared at the floor, listless and bereft of any hope. Just a man who is accepting of his fate and any judgement rendered thereafter.

"Mister Trevon, it says here you have been found guilty of the crime of theft of one..." the judge looked at the paper before him really hard, squinting almost. "the theft of one bunch of bananas, how do you plead?"

He leaned over his desk at the man in question, giving him a rather overly large frown.

"G-g-guilty, Your Honor." The man stuttered, his voice broken with as much hope as his eyes held.

"So quick to admit guilt." The judge replied. "You could lie through your teeth right now, why do you not do so? Many others before you tried."

"I am a dead man, Your Honor. I was seen by a dozen or more sir. It would not do to lie." The man said.

"I see. Well, since you were so quick to admit your guilt, I too, will be quick to administer your judgement."

The judge straightened his robes and banged his gavel against the counter again. "Trevon of Markus, you have been, by your own admission, found guilty of the crime of theft. Normally such a sentence here, would be the death penalty. But, seeing as you quickly admitted your guilt and saved us hours of work, I sentence you ten years in the salt mines. Court dismissed!"

The man was led away, a little more life in his step but not by much. The judge sighed and leaned back in his chair, running a hand across his mostly bald head.

He turned to his assistant, "John, how long until the next case? It's unbearably hot in here, you would think that they would get some water mage to cool the courthouse off."

"I agree, sir." John nodded. "Your next case is also a theft, a young boy of no more than twelve years who stole a loaf of bread from Henry the Baker during a sale in the marketplace. It seems he evaded the guards and was captured by a visiting Mercenary Company...the uh..." John shuffled some papers until he found the correct one. "Ah, yes here. The Mercenary Company...Dancing Deklans?"

"Ah, that Mercenary Company?" The judge sighed. "May the gods have mercy on that young boy, but chances are they will not."

------

The young boy in question awoke to the sounds of water dripping somewhere, echoing harshly in his ears. He groaned as he opened his eyes, the light from a window off to his left stabbing into his eyes.

The first thing the boy noticed was the stone ceiling above him. This was definitely not where he wanted to be. He sighed and groaned as he sat up. One of his eyes felt swollen and he couldn't really see too well out of it. He felt is before hissing and jerking his hand away.

It was definitely swollen and most likely going to turn into a black eye.

He looked around him, there was a small window with bars across it in the shape of a half circle at the back of his cell near the ceiling and a heavily reinforced door with a metal plate across the center of it in front of him.

Most definitely a jail cell. There was a silver lining however, a plate of food was left for him in front of the door. He got up and started moving to the plate and he was just about to reach it when the rattling of chains and a sudden jerk backwards stopped him.

It was then he just noticed that his feet were manacled to a long chain built into the wall underneath the window. He sighed again. Great, no food now either. His stomach rumbled and a pang of hunger hit him.

He hoped something would happen soon, otherwise he would just go to sleep like he always did.

The door rattled and he scrambled away from it. As it was opening he heard voices.

"No, you two stay out here. What's a punk brat like him going to do against me?"

"He might get a lucky shot in. You know as well as we do that is sometimes all it takes on the battlefield."

"You might be right, but that just makes my decision extra correct."

"'Extra correct'? Are you hearing yourself, Captain?"

"You two are staying out here, and that is final!"

The door opened all the way and the mercenary that knocked him unconscious entered. Even as he kept scrambling away he got a good eyeful of the man.

The mercenary captain was a good six and a half feet tall with a body built like a wagon. His barrel chest and broad shoulders screamed "physical prowess here!" and the armor covering his body seemed to barely contain him, judging by the way it bulged in several places.

His face was adorned with many small scars and he had a large one running through an eye covered with a patch. His other blue eye had an intense energy to it as it gazed straight at him as if to run him through like a sword.

His face had roughly shaved, but still good looking. He had a regular mop of brown hair upon his head and a small smile across his lips.

"So, kid. We meet again." The large man dropped straight to the floor and sat there in front of him. "You got a name, kid? Or am I going to be calling you kid for the rest of your short life?"

"It's Gavaine." Gavaine hmphed and looked away. He did not know what this mercenary was here for, but it was probably nothing good.

"Gavaine huh." The man scratched his head. "For what it's worth, the name's Argus, kid."

"Hey!" Gavaine exclaimed. "I thought you weren't going to call me a kid?"

Argus laughed, it was booming and could be heard even out on the training grounds through the window. "That's rich. You're kid, so I'm gonna call you a kid." And just as suddenly the man got serious. His laugh cutout like water through a tap.

A grim smile etched itself on his face. "Listen kid, you've got two options. You can join my mercenary company, we'll train you. Teach you to fight. Then throw you in the grinder. You might live, you might die. Or, you can take your chances with the judge. From what I hear, he's no different to the young or the old and it's late in the day. Chances are he'll sentence you to death, or the salt mines. Just as good as a death sentence to a young kid like you.

Gavaine watched the man speak. He had learned to read people. It was a survival trick he picked up on the streets. Everything the man said either came from a genuine place, or he was the best liar Gavaine had ever seen.

Despite that he knew the captain was right. If he stayed it was for sure a death sentence. No one survived the salt mines, at least not the criminals. They did not hand any protective equipment to criminals. You would be lucky to still have lungs by the end of the year, much less the end of ten.

"And if I accept?" Gavaine was curious. He was a street rat, but he ran with no guilds. Still, it paid to know all of his options.

"Smart kid, I wouldn't trust the first offer thrown at me either." Argus said. "Still, here's my offer. You get this plate of food and then we haul you off to our camp outside the city. We will train you to fight, and if you're lucky, perhaps you'll learn magic. If you're compatible that is. You have one year. If you're not ready in a year, then it sucks to be you when we throw you at the grinder. Still, that's better than the city will offer you."

Gavaine mulled it over for a few minutes. It really was a no-brainer. At least he would have somewhere to belong and a constant supply of food if he joined up. His belly rumbled again, the smell of the food by the door helping him pick his decision that much quicker. "All right, I'll join. Not like this place has any meaning to me anyway..."

"Excellent!" Argus laughed, then tossed the plate of food which landed perfectly in front of Gavaine. "Eat up kid. Your training starts as soon as we exit that door."