NOVEL NEXT Chapter 5: First contract
Sleep did not bring me peace or respite. In the darkness of my mind, a memory resurfaces with implacable clarity.
I stood at their care in a large room with bright stained glass, bathed by the golden light in the morning. Faced with me, the supreme commander of the holy knights, draped in his imposing immaculate armor, stared at me with implacable coldness.
"Arhon Kurogane, your mission is clear. " His voice echoed like a death knell.
A parchment struck by the seal of the church was rolled out in front of me. An order of execution. The target: an entire family.
"They challenged Solaria authority. Their existence is heresy. Exterminate them."
I remembered the nausea that took hold of me that day. The desire to refuse ... but also the weight of the duty that still brought me at the time.
The dream cut abruptly.
I opened my eyes. The interior of the guild was already bathed in daylight. The smell of wet wood and worn metal filled the air.
Sitting on a wobbly chair, a smoking cup in your hands, barros quietly sipped his coffee.
I got up and mechanically smoothed my clothes. "Warm well?" I said, more by automation than by real interest.
He raised an eyebrow and broke out with a little hoarse laugh. "If you can call it sleeping ..."
I did not answer. My steps instinctively brought me to the table of contracts. My gaze swept the posters. Then, without detour, I asked:
"How do we sign a contract and start the elimination of fallen knights?"
Barros put his cup and got up slowly. He drew from a drawer an official sheet marked with the black seal of a sponsor.
"It is a private contract. The man who wrote him is a rich noble installed in the City of Pleasures in Drakmor. His fortress is a real palace. He put a fortune at stake to see these fallen knights disappear."
The missions were classified according to their level of difficulty and their sponsor. A standard contract involved a fixed sum of gold paid at the end of the mission, with penalties in the event of failure. A reputation contract offered as a bonus of a prestige rise in the world of mercenaries. And finally, a secret contract was often the most lucrative, but also the most risky: no guarantee of payment, and an almost guaranteed death in the event of failure.
Barros handed me the sheet.
"Do you really want to get started?" He asked with a smirk.
I took the parchment without hesitation.
"I never do things by halves."
I folded the contract sheet and put it in my jacket before turning to barros.
"I would need a horse to join the City of Pleasures. Do you have one on hand?"
He glanced at me, then shrugged. "Of course we have horses. Not royal thoroughbreds, but they hold the road."
He went to the back of the guild, beckoning me to follow him. Behind a creaky door, a small wooden stable extended. The smell of hay and leather filled the air. Several horses were attached to it, some more robust than others.
While I was about to choose a mount, one of the guild mercenaries, a large guy with a shaggy beard, advanced.
"Wait, Arhon!" I want to accompany you."
I gave him an indifferent look.
" For what ?"
"Because ... it's been a long time since we had any action! And then, I can be useful!"
I sighed and detailed it quickly. His level was laughable. His equipment too.
"No need for a burden. I prefer to travel alone."
His expression tense, upset, but he did not protest.
I attached my saddle bag of a robust black horse and climbed on a fluid movement.
The City of Pleasures was not so far, but the journey would still take two whole days on horseback. On foot, it would have taken at least five days to cross the hilly plains and avoid the patrols of the Holy Knights.
I grabbed the reins and turned to Barros.
"I'm going. Don't give me a farewell ceremony. "
He sketched a smirk. "Just make sure you come back alive."
Without one more word, I slightly gave my heels in the sides of the horse. He rushed into a quick trotting, carrying me to my destination.
Direction the City of Pleasures, and my mysterious sponsor.
The first day of the trip was calm.
On horseback, I crossed green plains where the grass waved under the breeze, before entering a more wooded region. The large trees of the Drakmor forest filled sunlight, projecting moving shadows on my passage.
I made a stop near a river with crystal clear waters. I went down from my mount, let my horse drink, then leaned to fill my gourd.
The place was peaceful. Too peaceful.
By reflex, I took a flexible branch and used it to improvise a fishing rod. The improvised thread was plunged into the water, and in a few minutes I released a silver fish. A simple campfire later, the fish grown slowly above the flames, giving off an appetizing odor.
After this short meal, I hit the road.
The sun started to go down on the horizon when I saw the first homes in a neutral village, nestled in the heart of the forest. It was a place without allegiance, neither in the kingdom of Solaria, nor to the bandits of Drakmor. A refuge for those who were fleeing war and conflicts.
I got off my horse and continued on foot.
The air here was loaded with a smell of burned wood and damp earth. However, something was wrong.
I slowed down my walk and stretched my senses.
Hidden presences. I could hear their irregular breath, perceive the warmth of their body, hidden behind bushes and trees.
Spies? Bandits?
Without raising my voice, I launched in a cold tone:
"Get out."
A tense silence followed my order, then frightened peasants slowly emerged from their hiding place. Their faces were marked by fear and exhaustion.
I folded my eyes.
Why were they hiding like this?
One of the villagers, an old man with a gray beard and a suspicious look, advanced cautiously.
" We are not looking for trouble, traveler ... We are only refugees, people without land or lord."
I looked at him without answering. He exchanged a look with the others before continuing:
"We come from different regions ... Some have fled the tyranny of the kingdom of Solaria, others have escaped the looting of Drakmor's bandits. Here, we try to survive by cultivating the earth and by hunting ... but we live constantly in fear."
"Fear of what?" I asked in a neutral tone.
The old man cleaned his fists.
"Holy Knights. They say that we are only traitors, heretics ... They hunt us like livestock, on the pretext that we refuse to lend allegiance to the Church of Solaria."
I remained silent.
This people of the Drakmor forest was a community of marginal and survivors, men and women who had refused to comply with the great powers of this world.
Here, in these remote lands, they tried to build an existence far from conflicts. However, Solaria's shadow still weighed on them.
I understood their fear of foreigners better.
For them, any traveler could be a spy of the kingdom, a bloodthirsty mercenary, or even worse ... A holy knight who came to purge them in the name of their blind faith.