oroboros
Squire
So, I've started a new game a couple of weeks ago and after having read many of the AARs around I decided to post the background story of my current char. I always have in mind some kind of a background story when I create a new char, but this time I decided to write it down. Maybe you read it or not, but be warned that it is very, very long, so here it goes
My name is Godefroi Detribault, I was born on 23rd June in 1222 anno domini, as the second oldest of 5 siblings, in a small village near the town of Marseille in Southern France. My father was a hunter in service of the local lord of our village, a minor noble himself in service to the lord of Aix-en-Provence, as a regular knight. During my youth, which I still recall in bright colours, my father taught me how to stalk&hide, to use a horse for riding, how to hunt deer and to spot and estimate distances as well as how to read tracks and find my paths through impassable ways. At the age of 12 my father handed me over to a smith in a neigbouring village. Though I'd rather had become a hunter too, but unfortunately my father's request was declined by our local lord 'I already have enough personell, hell, more than enough, I barely can afford to pay the current staff!' was his noble reply. But my father was still a popular man around our village and a very good friend of one of the smiths at Aix-en-Provence. He was it that told him that he could arrange for an apprenticeship for me at a smithy in some other village, where the smith there owed him a favour. So it came that I was intended to learn the craft of how to forge things out of metal and finally became a smith after 5 years of hard labour for an unforgiving blacksmith. It was mutual hate from the very beginning. As he had no need for a third assistant he cast me out after having received the last retainage from my father for my apprenticeship.
I then went to Aix-en-Provence to speak infront of the local smithing guild there and bring forth my request for being allowed to pass the requirements in order to become a master artisan and open my own smithy in my local village, where I was born. The local guild master granted my request under the condition that I would find a forgemaster who was willing to teach me the necessary skills within the next year and a half. After this time I would be brought infront of a guild comittee in order to convince them of my superior skills and that I was worthy to bear the title. I pledged to the local master artisan in the city, Jèrome Vacheron, and after testing my skills for several weeks he agreed upon further teaching me the secret skills of a true forgemaster and so the terms with him were settled and I received an outstanding training in how to forge the finest pieces of metal that the world had ever seen, even though some of them looked, well, rather awkward. But people might finally get used to them, in a few centuries of time, and then, yes, then they would be recognized as the masterpieces they already were... 'Hey artist-boy, stop day-dreaming and go and fetch me another jar of vine, s'il te plaît!' the voice of my master and teacher brought me back into the roughness of reality... but at some time in the future, at one day... 'A little faster if possible, I am really thirsty and we still have much work to do!'... However, as my father was several times in duty during war times, as a crossbow militia for our local lord, I was always fascinated by the stories he told me of the times of warfare and skirmishes. Though he most probably had made up most of it, which I of course knew, the fascination never let me go, and so I decided to forge a sword of superior quality as a proof of my skills in smithing. The weapon was exceptionally well-balanced and a real masterpiece in the art of sword forging, which was also accounted for by master Vacheron, the artisan, as well as the guild's committee who were to test my skills. Thus I was awarded the title of a forgemaster but unluckily there was no additional place or need for another masterwork smith at or around the region of Aix-en-Provence, as the committee stated in the name of the local guild master, and I therefore had to either leave for another region or I was offered the choice to work as a 2nd assistant for one of the local weapon smiths in Aix-en-Provence. Monsieur Vacheron couldn't take me as an employee because he already had 7 assistants employed, who worked at his smithy. I thankfully declined the job offer and decided to find my own ways in some different place.
Due to his well established network and his friends, my father already had received the message that I most probably would be declined a position as an artisan in this region and open another smithy, several weeks before I passed the test, and he almost knew for sure that I wouldn't keep myself satisfied with a lower position, yet he decided not to talk to me about all of this because he didn't want to spoil my plans. So he managed things beforehand and talked to my mother, a spirited woman from Sardinia who, when she still was a little child, fled to France together with her family because her home town was being laid waste to by a lord from the Northern African Hafsids who were at war with Sicily at those times. Accompanied with many tears from my mother, I then was about to take leave from my parents' home and prepared myself for the journey. My father said goodbye to me with a strange sparkle in his eyes, almost as if he was envious that I could leave and journey into the world while he couldn't. He babbled and murmured something like 'Well, good luck and everything, you know what I mean and...blablabla... a man needs a horse...' when he presented me with one of his 2 saddle horses and his second best hunting weapon, a light crossbow + bolts, as well as, well, some kind of a shield which he seemingly had carpentered himself, and my father was very well-known, far beyond the village boundaries, for his complete absence of any talent whatsoever in any kind of carpentering. So, with an astonished and not unamused glance on the shield while I held the masterpiece in my hands, I thanked him for everything and promised to come back as soon as possible and thus I packed my stuff together, including my smithing tools and my balanced sword, and said good bye to the place where I was born.
I left my village and headed towards the port at Marseille from where I hoped to get a place on a ship which would take me to the East, maybe to Pisa or even Venezia. But things didn't work out quite as well as I thought and prices for a voyage on a ship seemed to had skyrocketed since 2 years ago. After spending several days at different taverns in Marseille, while sleeping at one of my sister's home, the oldest one of us siblings, who had married a carpenter in Marseille (what an irony, a carpenter...) I finally found some kind of petty officer of a vessel headed for Genova. He agreed to take me onboard of his ship, the 'Howling Raider', if I would work and help out on board wherever it were required, and after examining me carefully he accepted my terms with the words 'You'd better not be a manhunter, aye... Buahahahaaa!', while he laughed and clapped my shoulder upon which I almost went down on my knees. His name was Borg and he obviously had some very dubious past before becoming a sailor. He was a fair haired & fully bearded giant of a man, at least 6 foot tall and strong like an oxen. The sea passage was the most awful thing I've experienced in my whole life. While I didn't had to work for more than 3 hours during the whole journey, not once before or after was I ever so sick and feaverish as during the rest of the days on sea. I think I puked double as much as I was weighing while we encountered waves that were almost as tall as the mast of the vessel itself, at least to me they were frightening beyond imagination. It was a constant storm and when I wasn't on deck to puke, I tied myself to the mast below-deck in order not to be thrown around in the ship. On one night a barrel of ale came lose and almost squeezed me to death, when suddenly I heard that familiar deep laughter again and some giant hands lifted the thing off of me as if it would weigh nothing, while the 'Howling Raider' was still rocking to and fro... 'Oh poor boy, there has somebody never been to sea before, aye? Less puking, more sailing! Buahahahaaaa!'... oh yes, Borg's charms are unforgotten, resistance against him was futile.
We finally reached Genova and I thanked god for this from the deepest depths of my heart. Thanks to the fine weather on board, I had caught myself a nice cold and the first impressions from Genova were to me almost like if I had eaten some of those mushrooms my dad used to gather and brew some ale out of them back at home, 'for special occasions and for grown ups only' as he used to tell me. I remember that one day I managed to get a nice deep gulp of it while he was out on a hunt. After seeing the first demons, whom I fought viciously, as well as hiding from the dragons who were ridden by several groups of those little blue people with white hats on, razor-sharp teeth and fireball slings, my mother then thought I was being possessed by the devil himself and was short of taking me to the local priest, to call in the bishop for an exorcism. Luckily my dad turned up before she could take me to the priest and told her that everything was fine, I just needed water, a lot of it, and then some sleep and everything would be fine. In Genova I stumbled and walked around in my delirium, trying to find a tavern where they at least could understand somehow what I was talking, French, while I also could utter myself somewhat in Italian, it was for me impossible to remember even the simplest of phrases in my condition. Someone felt pity for me and brought me to a tavern called 'Raving Rooster' where there would be mainly French guys in there, as he told me. I managed to stagger my way to the tavern keeper and asked him wether he had some place where I could rest for a while and threw some coins onto the table. He and one of his assistants brought me upstairs where I slept until noon on the following day.
When I got back to strength, after I had recuperated for several days in the tavern, I got my first glimpses of Genova. What a beautiful town it was, with many different cultures - you could hear people speaking in almost every language there was, like French, Italian, German and even some Muslim traders of whom I couldn't understand one single syllable while the other European languages were somewhat familiar and I could at least get a hint what the one or the other word would mean, then there were the different habits and dresses, the many different scents that could be smelled at the market place, besides the usual piss stench in the narrow streets. All this kept inspiring me and I wanted to explore the whole world a lot more than ever before and being a smith with my own smithy faded more and more into the background of my mind. After a couple of days, a week at most, I had to realise though that I was running out of money. Fascinated by the town of Genova, I decided to stay for a while and have a look at what fortune might happen to me. So I started looking around for work, to no avail. Apparently it was harder to come by some decent work in this place than in the region I had left. In the end I had to accept a job in a horse barn, which I had to clean out every day.
However, several weeks later while I was having my usual 1 meagre meal per day in the tavern (meanwhile I slept at work, ie. the nice barn I had to clean out, cause the tavern got too expensive and the melodic nickering of the horses helped me to fall asleep, really...) I encountered a somewhat more noble dressed guy than would usually frequent this place, maybe between 40 and 50 years of age. I caught some words from a talk he had with a strange almost-oriental-but-somehow-not-really looking fellow, clad almost all over in some kind of leather clothing, and realised upon hearing his accent that he had to be a fellow French man. I hooked up with him and had a little talk about where each of us was from and as it happened he was a somewhat well-known merchant in Dijon, and came here to organise a trading ship in order to pick up goods at the home harbour of Marseille in order to deliver the trade goods to Sultanat al Marini where he would get a nice discount on the local salt supplies near the town of Oran and ship them to Genova, where he was up to built a new business branch for the next couple of years. The guy he talked to was actually a captain of a vessel from the Sultanat. As we got into our talks we became really good acquainted and I soon was befriended with Ètienne de Nevers, which was his name, and as I told him about my situation, he told me that he had some business contacts and that he would see what he could do for me to find some work at a local smithy. On showing him the blade I had forged back home he was really impressed because he, as a matter of fact, had himself had several fencing lessons as a part of his 'universal education', whatever that meant. I told him that I just know how to forge the blade but that I was completely unfamiliar with how to use it. He then decided that I should stay at his place, after hearing where I usually slept and what my occupation was, and he would show me what he did know of the 'art of fencing' (he always had a somewhat finnicky way to talk about things).
After a month or so, while I was living at Ètienne's place, which was more or less a depository warehouse near the harbour of which parts of the first floor served as the living quarters, he came to me and told me that he maybe got an interesting offer for me - one of the local weapon smiths had shown interest in my work and would give me a chance to prove my skills as a smith and if it was good enough he would employ me as his assistant. Soon I was again working as a smith, this time I forged/repaired blades and other weapons for the Genoese garrison including the famous Genoese crossbowmen. The weapon smith was a retired army officer who wasn't that tired at all and thus took over the smithy from his father, who was a veteran of the 3rd crusade. The smith, Giaccomo Bernardi, was a very friendly man and the complete opposite of the blacksmith where I used to learn my craft. Working with him was a great pleasure all the time, and the most enjoyable times I had when his stoneold father came to visit the smithy. He was probably the oldest person I had ever seen in my life, over 70 years old, but he had the best stories to tell about the crusade and how he fought alongside Richard Plantagenet, Coeur de Lion, in the French contingent supporting the English, which was commanded by Hugues III de Bourgogne, who died in the holy lands during the crusades, at the town of Acre. He was the one that inspired the wanderlust in me more than ever before, to travel to the holy lands and see the places with my own eyes. He was born and grew up also near Dijon but changed his French name Louis Bernardeau into Luigi Bernardi when he decided to stay in Genova and to live there as a smith, because his Italian was good enough and native people always had it somewhat easier with everything, as he explained to me, but the most important reason for him to stay was that he had met the most beautiful Italian girl in the world, his future wife. During my stay at Genova I also had the occasion to visit my parents twice per year, by travelling with one of Ètiennes trading ships, and to tell them of the adventures I had already lived through.
Ètienne, Giaccomo and his father Luigi became really close friends of mine and it wasn't an easy task for me to take my leave after having lived and worked with them for almost 4 years, but I simply had to move on, to go to the holy lands, and I couldn't resist my inner urge no longer. Besides teaching me how to fight, which Giaccomo took over from Ètienne with the words 'You know, he is really good with the feather and he can talk you into unconsciousness in less than an hour, but the sword and the matters of war you better leave to me' to which Ètienne had to agree with a smile and friendly comment 'Yes, since I realised that it was more important to actually use the brain as weapon, I'll gladly leave the crude work to the crude workers'. Ètienne also taught me the basics of how to read, write, some basic maths as well as economics fundamentals and even some Latin. So one day I left Genova, after having found myself a nice ship on which I would be sailing to the town of Tarsus. It happened to be a ship named 'Raging Howler' which somehow brought a big smile on my face as it reminded me somewhat of my first vessel I made a trip on, the 'Howling Raider'. And I should be even more surprised when I got to know who the petty officer of this boat was. I was just inspecting the boat and where to stash all my stuff, when someone or something grabbed me from behind and yelled 'Your money or your life!' I was shocked to the bones for the smallest part of a second but then I somehow remembered the rough tone of the voice and when I turned around, I looked into the familiar face of Borg and immediately in that moment received another sensitive clap on my shoulder which sent all the stuff I carried with me onto the ship deck's floor. With a broad grin he said 'Aye mate, you've become almost a real man now, and handsome, women will like you if I am not around'. We told each other the stories that had happened during the last 4 years and spent much time of the sea travel together, either drinking or singing or both, when he hadn't had to work. He also told me that the ship he used to work on, the 'Howling Raider', was captured by some sea raiders and the only reason he was still alive was that he knew the raider captain from a former time, of which he didn't want to tell much, and so he got away and hired again on this ship because he liked the name of it. Upon him asking me if there hadn't been any women in my life I told him that there once was a girl in my home village, but alas, she got married to another guy... he shouted out 'Bah, romantic rubbish! If you were my student you already would have had more women than hairs on your ahss! Buaha...', he still had some minor problems with the language, but I roughly got the idea though, 'Aaaand...' I interupted him 'there was Theresa and Maria whom I got to know, well, pretty close during my stay in Genova. But nothing serious developped along the time, unfortunately', 'Now that's my boy! That's how it should be like!' he replied with a satisfied nodding and added 'No wonder women got attracted to you, you have a nice head on your shoulders, you know. Cheers mate, let's lift our jars to honour all the wonderful womens ahsses in the world!' How could I not agree to such a nice kind of a toast.
My second attempt at sea travel was the most peaceful times on sea I should ever have up until now, the waters were completely calm most of the times and the sun was shining brightly all the way through, until we reached our destination - Tarsus. There I said goodbye to Borg and really hoped that we both would see each other again, some different time at some different place maybe. The place in the holy lands was not at all how I had imagined it to be, the people were very poor and there were beggars all around almost everywhere, city guards pushed their ways recklessly through the crowds in order to open the way for some mounted nobles clad in coats of mail, who looked at the surroundings with a very wrinkled nose. In fact they looked so weird that I barely could refrain myself from laughing about this scenery. What gives, I decided to inspect the general tavern quality in this place and so I asked my way through until I found someone who spoke a language I was able to speak and understand. Then I got to a tavern simply called 'Cross Section', bearing some kind of Templar cross as a symbol but the cross being made out of beer jars - seemed like the right place to be in. I got myself a couple of jars of the local ale and was not too excited about its quality, and you know how it is like - if the quality is low, you have to balance it with quantity (oh my god, I almost sound like the good old Ètienne).
In short, I got a very bad hangover and when I left for the street in order to find myself a nice little barn to sleep in (I got so used to the horses nickering during my barn times in Genova, that I barely could fall asleep without it, really...) when I suddenly heard a blade being unsheathed. I thought by myself 'Oh my god, this can't be real now, can it? I've travelled all around the world, nothing happened, and now, being in the holy lands I get ambushed? This is ridiculous, no way...'. But indeed it was a jerk coming for me with his blade and a shield raised up, so I cocked my crossbow and waited for him, still having the hope that he was just a drunkyard and would realise that this won't have a happy ending. But no, he was firm in his decision, he ran towards me, lifted his sword to cut me down and at that moment when he somewhat dropped his shield cover, I let lose my crossbow bolt and shot him right into the face. Not sure if it was the alcohol or the image of the dead body, but I instantly felt sick and puked right into the next corner. I got nervous and broke out in sweat, already hearing foot steps, certainly the city guards, I didn't know what to do... how to explain... when I suddenly heard a whisper from the shadows of a narrow street. 'Hey you, psssst. Come over here, move, c'mon!'. Not knowing what else I should do and fearing the consequences I followed the voice and the guy who directed me through the streets into some kind of entrance at a house. 'How careless you are, what if that's another villain, trying to rob you?!' came to my mind, so I readied my sword. But the guy told me that I needn't to worry, he was an employee of the local merchant and saw what happened and that I did nothing wrong, and in fact his master, the merchant of Tarsus, was looking for someone who had the nerves and some ability in fighting, because he needed an urgent job to be done, it were about life and death he told me.
This got my attention, so I inquired him to tell me a little bit more but he didn't and instead told me that I should wait until I had met with the merchant himself. There was some uproar to be heard in the streets and as soon as it faded out we left the house and he directed me to another building which looked like it would belong to some well-situated person. 'Let me go in first and talk to the merchant, I will pick you up in the hallway' he said to me as we entered the house. After some time he returned and led me to the merchant's business room, where I was told that the merchant's brother was captured by a group of bandits and that they would blackmail the merchant. He also assumed that one of the city guards captains was behind the crime in order to get some political or economic benefits from having the merchant in his hands or whatever. He made the promise to me of receiving a nice sum of money and of course some renown and that I would be well known in this city and would always be welcome here if I had nowhere else to go, if I helped him in this matter. I agreed and the next day I looked around in the taverns for some kind of mercenaries or other people that were willing to help me for some money. I finally found 9 guys equipped with some melee weapons and crossbows who I could convince to join me in this 'noble deed' as I described it without flushing too badly. So we looked around, outside the town, in the region the merchant had described to me and soon I found some tracks in that region, which was otherwise void of humans, and some time later smelled a fire and spotted several men, camping besides some trees.
I explained the crossbowmen what the plan was and they agreed to it, so we got near the camp site and let lose a rain of bolts upon which 2 of the 4 guys fell over, dead or dying, each one got hit by several bolts. The other two guys jumped up and started to yell around, panicking and fleeing in all directions. As I was the only one with a horse, I jumped up on it, drew my sword and followed after the first one I could see. My heart was beating like crazy and blood shot up into my head, I seemed to not be able to have just one concrete thought but on the other hand was overwhelmed with a stream of emotions and excitement. It felt like when I was a young lad where I had accompanied my dad during a hunt, but much more intensive. After some 50 metres I closed up to one of the escapists, bowed myself to the right in the saddle and swung through as Giaccomo had taught me to. I was surprised that I felt almost no resistance, just saw the blood shooting out of the guy whom I hit and he staggered and fell down almost immediately with a gargling cry. I stopped my horse and rode back to him where he was still lying around, spitting blood and his body moved around in spasms in his agony. I climbed down, fought against a strong urge to puke and sickness that overcame me, went over to him and relieved him with a final thrust of my sword. While standing there my mind went blank and I don't know for how long I stared at the dead body, when suddenly I was brought back to reality by the screams of some individual. I saw 2 crossbowmen running into my direction, grinning and yelling 'We got one, we got one!'. On arriving, one of the 2 mercs stopped, looked at the dead guy and nodded his head in an appreciating manner 'Good work, sir. Very well done.' I gave him a short and confused glance, then mounted my horse and rode over to the prisoner in order to inquire him, where the merchant's brother was hidden. He didn't hesitate to tell where he was if we would just let him go and he promised that we would see him never again if we would just let him live and go his ways. So I ordered the mercs to let him go, which they did unwillingly, and pack all their gear together in order to head towards the direction the subject had described to us.
On arriving, I first moved out and scouted the area, looked where the villains would mainly be and from where it was best to attack. I then held counsel with my men, described them the situation and the leader of the guys took over the splitting of the group so that we would close up to the camp in a pincher movement, first shoot a volley, then half of them would reload while the rest of us would immediately storm the camp, so that we would have cover from the ranged behind while the rest of us were fighting them in melee. 2 of the guys wouldn't join in the melee but stay at an elevated position in order to provide cover with their crossbows. The scenery was a mostly void area of desert vegetation around some kind of puddle of water, with some tents at the far end in front of a cave or something. We could make out that most of them were probably near that place, while we had to take into account of some outposts or sentinels on the mountainous areas to the left and right of the camp site. Therefore we split up in three groups and closed up to the camp.
Even before we came into shot distance I already heard battle cries from the left, where one group of us had indeed encountered some sentinel at the mountainous area to our left and were fighting with them. Already being discovered we moved forward quickly in order to use the occasion that the guys in the main camp were still somewhat surprised. We rushed into shot distance at the double and shot our crossbows unto the guys at the main camp site. A few got hit but now the other ones knew what was going on and the whole camp got really busy, each one of them was picking up some weapon or looked around for one. Then they engaged us an ran towards us, but meanwhile our third group had reached the top of the right hand hilly area. They obviously had also encountered some sentinel as out of the corner of my eye I could get a glimpse at one of them cleaning his blade by wiping it unto some cloth or whatever, while the other two kneeled down and shot the first two enemies that were the nearest towards us. But the main bulk of the other opponents reached us and they were many more than we were, so we stood back-to-back fighting off their superior numbers, while I again heard the typical noise of crossbows being shot. This evened out the numbers and now we went into full attack, I blocked a guy who tried to cut me down with his falchion, stepped to his left and slashed him with a diagonal cut immediately followed by a cut straight downwards that severed his main artery in his neck. Another guy tried to stab me with his butchering knife but in the last moment I could parry him and chambered his next try to cut at my legs and ripped his throat up from side to side. Meanwhile all of us were engaged in the fight, one of us was already down, he had crawled some couple of yards back and held the right side of his body with both is hands. One other crossbowmen on the right flank waved nervously with his arms but I didn't know what he wanted and I had no time to think, because behind one of the tents another guy appeared and I saw 7 more of them exiting the cave, one got immediately nailed down. Now I could see why my guys were waving, there were even more of them coming... 'oh my god, this will end so bad' were my thoughts when I felt how I really got nervous now and must have turned pale or something because the captain of the guys who fought besides me glanced at me and started to grin 'Don't let yourself down now, we'll get them' he cried into my direction while dodging a spear attack shortly after, grabbing his axe with 2 hands and splitting the head of the enemy who tried to kill him. I got myself together, grabbed my sword and closed up to the cap and his brave 3 men fighting in the melee. Then I heard another 'zhwackk' a couple of times and more of our opponents were falling down. The 2 guys on our left flank reloaded and shot like hell, now I understood why they were the ones giving cover. From the right flank the other 3 guys were coming down and I recognized the one that had cleaned his blade, he now had a falchion in one hand and a butchering knife in the other, grinning from one ear to the other while being covered all over in blood 'We got them down, all of them, it's just them infront of you left' he cried on his way down, on which we all together attacked the remaining opponents in melee and cut them down like they were logs of wood and we were the lumberjacks, no pardon was given. I never encountered such a fury and bloodlust in myself, the cap had to catch me again because I was raging 'Ok now, it's over, knock it off - they're done' he told me with a very sincere but calm voice, used to giving orders, whereas he carefully closed up to me step by step with both his hands stretched out towards me in an appeasing manner while looking straight into my eyes.
When I got out of my rage and lust for blood we finally found the merchant's brother back in the cave, tied to some log of wood and freed him. The result was that 2 of us got wounded, but nothing critical, everyone would be well and sound in some time. All in all there were 21 enemies in the hideout of whom not one survived. We stayed a little bit at the camp site in order to search the criminals' stuff and took everything that could be worth something, bandaging the wounded and cared for the merchant's brother. We decided to stay there for the night, some distance aways from the camp, because it was already too late to return to the town. The next day we brought the merchant's brother back home and received our rightful reward. The merchant, whose name by the way was Johannis Rubnhaur, some 40 years of age, was born and grew up near Strassbourg in the Holy Roman Empire. He handed over the reward with a very thoughtful face, wrinkles of sorrow appearing on his forehead. As I got along with him quite good, he also had been several times to Genova, so we had a common topic to talk about, I asked him what still was wrong - his brother returned without a scratch, the villains were all slain. He looked up at me and his grey eyes seemed to pierce my mind, then a soft smile appeared on his face and his look got dazed and very tired when he turned his eyes away onto the table infront of him. 'Well, I've told you that the villains were not my only problem let alone the biggest one. There still is this captain of the city guard and I think I've found out who he is. I thought of him to be one of my closest friends and familiars but oh how wrong did I judge that character. I fear that unless we can catch him and put him to his rightful punishment, I won't be able to live in peace cause he won't let me.' Listening to his words I suggested 'But see, I have 9 formidable men at my disposal and you yourself can surely bring up one or the other capable guy too. So, what should that captain have up his sleeves that would come and endanger a mission where he let's say get caught red-handed? How many of the men he commands can be entangled in his dark schemings? As far as I know the regular division size is what, like 30-50 men a city guard captain commands?' After carefully listening to my talk his look suddenly changed as if a burden was lifted off of him 'I am glad that you've made that proposition. Indeed he probably has only 5-10 of his men under his spell and I have received reliable information that he's gonna let some smugglers do their dirty business against a little 'fee' this night at the Northern town gate. How about we prepare a little surprise for him? It shall definitely not be to your financial disadvantage.' I agreed on his proposal and we came to terms to meet near the Northern gate in the evening where the merchant and his men would also be around, and on his signal we would start our mission to free the town of a corrupt city guard captain and thus eliminate the merchant's worst enemy.
I kept myself a little bit aside from the main street, leading to the Northern gate, and observed the scenery. Several people were still out on the streets and I couldn't by any means tell who belonged to us or who didn't. Just my buddies, the mercs, I was able to distinguish from the other guys. They had packed away their crossbows because otherwise it would be too obvious that they were up for something. Their melee weapons they had hidden quite well, I couldn't detect that either one of them even had a weapon, besides that bloodthirsty guy with the falchion and the butchering knife. He was leaning at some house corner carving around on a piece of wood with his way too big knife. A little later I also saw the merchant who threw around a quick glance and then disappeared into a house. About half an hour later, it was almost dark and the guards at the Northern gate were changed by half a dozen new ones, led by the rogue captain himself. They also looked around for some fishy suspects upon which I immediately fell back into the shadows of the side street I was waiting at. From the house in which the merchant disappeared I saw a hooded figure emerging, walking away in a sluggish walk, when suddenly he dropped his hood and yelled 'Now!'. I immediately recognized Johannis, the merchant, grabbed my sword and board and moved up to the next guard I could see. The same with my men and several other figures, even women (!), who seemed to work for the merchant. The guards were stupified, as were their 'customers' who had just entered the town through the Northern gate. A fierce fight broke out but the few guards and the smugglers stood no chance against us. Even before I was able to reach my first and only victim, whom I cut off a leg, Mr butchering-knife-carver had sliced two guards and was heading straight towards the captain with a diabolic smile on his face. I had to call him back and shouted 'No Butterknife (his professional nickname), we need to capture him alive!'. The fight didn't last very long, our guys finished them off in less than a minute and took the guard captain for prisoner. As was agreed upon with the merchant, my mercs buddies and I should disappear into the lowlife city district around the harbour, and there we would meet at the tavern 'Holy Tits' in 3 days, in the late afternoon. Because he wasn't sure about how well everything would work out, it would be best for us to keep our presence low after these occurences.
When finally we met in the tavern, Johannis Rubnhaur, the merchant, appeared there quite happily and explained to us that everything worked out quite well and as intended and that the guard captain was imprisoned for several offenses against the law. He would be no danger to anyone any longer and he would never see daylight again. Johannis told me that besides the lord of Tarsus, even the king of the holy lands had gotten knowledge of my name and noble deeds and that he was most gracious for our help. Moreover, the lord of the town of Tarsus wished to let us know that whenever we liked to we were always welcome in his town and would always find the gates wide open. Finally we got our reward and received even a bonus from the town's merchant for being such a great help to him. After all what had happened I decided not to release my new won mercs buddies but further keep them in my company, and thus we continued our journey through the lands together, for the next two years, looking for a nice coin to be made, no matter if it were to slay a traitor, gather some taxes or chasing bandits around the place. From now on I lived the life of a sellsword and bounty hunter, and I should enjoy it more than I ever thought I would or could have.
I then went to Aix-en-Provence to speak infront of the local smithing guild there and bring forth my request for being allowed to pass the requirements in order to become a master artisan and open my own smithy in my local village, where I was born. The local guild master granted my request under the condition that I would find a forgemaster who was willing to teach me the necessary skills within the next year and a half. After this time I would be brought infront of a guild comittee in order to convince them of my superior skills and that I was worthy to bear the title. I pledged to the local master artisan in the city, Jèrome Vacheron, and after testing my skills for several weeks he agreed upon further teaching me the secret skills of a true forgemaster and so the terms with him were settled and I received an outstanding training in how to forge the finest pieces of metal that the world had ever seen, even though some of them looked, well, rather awkward. But people might finally get used to them, in a few centuries of time, and then, yes, then they would be recognized as the masterpieces they already were... 'Hey artist-boy, stop day-dreaming and go and fetch me another jar of vine, s'il te plaît!' the voice of my master and teacher brought me back into the roughness of reality... but at some time in the future, at one day... 'A little faster if possible, I am really thirsty and we still have much work to do!'... However, as my father was several times in duty during war times, as a crossbow militia for our local lord, I was always fascinated by the stories he told me of the times of warfare and skirmishes. Though he most probably had made up most of it, which I of course knew, the fascination never let me go, and so I decided to forge a sword of superior quality as a proof of my skills in smithing. The weapon was exceptionally well-balanced and a real masterpiece in the art of sword forging, which was also accounted for by master Vacheron, the artisan, as well as the guild's committee who were to test my skills. Thus I was awarded the title of a forgemaster but unluckily there was no additional place or need for another masterwork smith at or around the region of Aix-en-Provence, as the committee stated in the name of the local guild master, and I therefore had to either leave for another region or I was offered the choice to work as a 2nd assistant for one of the local weapon smiths in Aix-en-Provence. Monsieur Vacheron couldn't take me as an employee because he already had 7 assistants employed, who worked at his smithy. I thankfully declined the job offer and decided to find my own ways in some different place.
Due to his well established network and his friends, my father already had received the message that I most probably would be declined a position as an artisan in this region and open another smithy, several weeks before I passed the test, and he almost knew for sure that I wouldn't keep myself satisfied with a lower position, yet he decided not to talk to me about all of this because he didn't want to spoil my plans. So he managed things beforehand and talked to my mother, a spirited woman from Sardinia who, when she still was a little child, fled to France together with her family because her home town was being laid waste to by a lord from the Northern African Hafsids who were at war with Sicily at those times. Accompanied with many tears from my mother, I then was about to take leave from my parents' home and prepared myself for the journey. My father said goodbye to me with a strange sparkle in his eyes, almost as if he was envious that I could leave and journey into the world while he couldn't. He babbled and murmured something like 'Well, good luck and everything, you know what I mean and...blablabla... a man needs a horse...' when he presented me with one of his 2 saddle horses and his second best hunting weapon, a light crossbow + bolts, as well as, well, some kind of a shield which he seemingly had carpentered himself, and my father was very well-known, far beyond the village boundaries, for his complete absence of any talent whatsoever in any kind of carpentering. So, with an astonished and not unamused glance on the shield while I held the masterpiece in my hands, I thanked him for everything and promised to come back as soon as possible and thus I packed my stuff together, including my smithing tools and my balanced sword, and said good bye to the place where I was born.
I left my village and headed towards the port at Marseille from where I hoped to get a place on a ship which would take me to the East, maybe to Pisa or even Venezia. But things didn't work out quite as well as I thought and prices for a voyage on a ship seemed to had skyrocketed since 2 years ago. After spending several days at different taverns in Marseille, while sleeping at one of my sister's home, the oldest one of us siblings, who had married a carpenter in Marseille (what an irony, a carpenter...) I finally found some kind of petty officer of a vessel headed for Genova. He agreed to take me onboard of his ship, the 'Howling Raider', if I would work and help out on board wherever it were required, and after examining me carefully he accepted my terms with the words 'You'd better not be a manhunter, aye... Buahahahaaa!', while he laughed and clapped my shoulder upon which I almost went down on my knees. His name was Borg and he obviously had some very dubious past before becoming a sailor. He was a fair haired & fully bearded giant of a man, at least 6 foot tall and strong like an oxen. The sea passage was the most awful thing I've experienced in my whole life. While I didn't had to work for more than 3 hours during the whole journey, not once before or after was I ever so sick and feaverish as during the rest of the days on sea. I think I puked double as much as I was weighing while we encountered waves that were almost as tall as the mast of the vessel itself, at least to me they were frightening beyond imagination. It was a constant storm and when I wasn't on deck to puke, I tied myself to the mast below-deck in order not to be thrown around in the ship. On one night a barrel of ale came lose and almost squeezed me to death, when suddenly I heard that familiar deep laughter again and some giant hands lifted the thing off of me as if it would weigh nothing, while the 'Howling Raider' was still rocking to and fro... 'Oh poor boy, there has somebody never been to sea before, aye? Less puking, more sailing! Buahahahaaaa!'... oh yes, Borg's charms are unforgotten, resistance against him was futile.
We finally reached Genova and I thanked god for this from the deepest depths of my heart. Thanks to the fine weather on board, I had caught myself a nice cold and the first impressions from Genova were to me almost like if I had eaten some of those mushrooms my dad used to gather and brew some ale out of them back at home, 'for special occasions and for grown ups only' as he used to tell me. I remember that one day I managed to get a nice deep gulp of it while he was out on a hunt. After seeing the first demons, whom I fought viciously, as well as hiding from the dragons who were ridden by several groups of those little blue people with white hats on, razor-sharp teeth and fireball slings, my mother then thought I was being possessed by the devil himself and was short of taking me to the local priest, to call in the bishop for an exorcism. Luckily my dad turned up before she could take me to the priest and told her that everything was fine, I just needed water, a lot of it, and then some sleep and everything would be fine. In Genova I stumbled and walked around in my delirium, trying to find a tavern where they at least could understand somehow what I was talking, French, while I also could utter myself somewhat in Italian, it was for me impossible to remember even the simplest of phrases in my condition. Someone felt pity for me and brought me to a tavern called 'Raving Rooster' where there would be mainly French guys in there, as he told me. I managed to stagger my way to the tavern keeper and asked him wether he had some place where I could rest for a while and threw some coins onto the table. He and one of his assistants brought me upstairs where I slept until noon on the following day.
When I got back to strength, after I had recuperated for several days in the tavern, I got my first glimpses of Genova. What a beautiful town it was, with many different cultures - you could hear people speaking in almost every language there was, like French, Italian, German and even some Muslim traders of whom I couldn't understand one single syllable while the other European languages were somewhat familiar and I could at least get a hint what the one or the other word would mean, then there were the different habits and dresses, the many different scents that could be smelled at the market place, besides the usual piss stench in the narrow streets. All this kept inspiring me and I wanted to explore the whole world a lot more than ever before and being a smith with my own smithy faded more and more into the background of my mind. After a couple of days, a week at most, I had to realise though that I was running out of money. Fascinated by the town of Genova, I decided to stay for a while and have a look at what fortune might happen to me. So I started looking around for work, to no avail. Apparently it was harder to come by some decent work in this place than in the region I had left. In the end I had to accept a job in a horse barn, which I had to clean out every day.
However, several weeks later while I was having my usual 1 meagre meal per day in the tavern (meanwhile I slept at work, ie. the nice barn I had to clean out, cause the tavern got too expensive and the melodic nickering of the horses helped me to fall asleep, really...) I encountered a somewhat more noble dressed guy than would usually frequent this place, maybe between 40 and 50 years of age. I caught some words from a talk he had with a strange almost-oriental-but-somehow-not-really looking fellow, clad almost all over in some kind of leather clothing, and realised upon hearing his accent that he had to be a fellow French man. I hooked up with him and had a little talk about where each of us was from and as it happened he was a somewhat well-known merchant in Dijon, and came here to organise a trading ship in order to pick up goods at the home harbour of Marseille in order to deliver the trade goods to Sultanat al Marini where he would get a nice discount on the local salt supplies near the town of Oran and ship them to Genova, where he was up to built a new business branch for the next couple of years. The guy he talked to was actually a captain of a vessel from the Sultanat. As we got into our talks we became really good acquainted and I soon was befriended with Ètienne de Nevers, which was his name, and as I told him about my situation, he told me that he had some business contacts and that he would see what he could do for me to find some work at a local smithy. On showing him the blade I had forged back home he was really impressed because he, as a matter of fact, had himself had several fencing lessons as a part of his 'universal education', whatever that meant. I told him that I just know how to forge the blade but that I was completely unfamiliar with how to use it. He then decided that I should stay at his place, after hearing where I usually slept and what my occupation was, and he would show me what he did know of the 'art of fencing' (he always had a somewhat finnicky way to talk about things).
After a month or so, while I was living at Ètienne's place, which was more or less a depository warehouse near the harbour of which parts of the first floor served as the living quarters, he came to me and told me that he maybe got an interesting offer for me - one of the local weapon smiths had shown interest in my work and would give me a chance to prove my skills as a smith and if it was good enough he would employ me as his assistant. Soon I was again working as a smith, this time I forged/repaired blades and other weapons for the Genoese garrison including the famous Genoese crossbowmen. The weapon smith was a retired army officer who wasn't that tired at all and thus took over the smithy from his father, who was a veteran of the 3rd crusade. The smith, Giaccomo Bernardi, was a very friendly man and the complete opposite of the blacksmith where I used to learn my craft. Working with him was a great pleasure all the time, and the most enjoyable times I had when his stoneold father came to visit the smithy. He was probably the oldest person I had ever seen in my life, over 70 years old, but he had the best stories to tell about the crusade and how he fought alongside Richard Plantagenet, Coeur de Lion, in the French contingent supporting the English, which was commanded by Hugues III de Bourgogne, who died in the holy lands during the crusades, at the town of Acre. He was the one that inspired the wanderlust in me more than ever before, to travel to the holy lands and see the places with my own eyes. He was born and grew up also near Dijon but changed his French name Louis Bernardeau into Luigi Bernardi when he decided to stay in Genova and to live there as a smith, because his Italian was good enough and native people always had it somewhat easier with everything, as he explained to me, but the most important reason for him to stay was that he had met the most beautiful Italian girl in the world, his future wife. During my stay at Genova I also had the occasion to visit my parents twice per year, by travelling with one of Ètiennes trading ships, and to tell them of the adventures I had already lived through.
Ètienne, Giaccomo and his father Luigi became really close friends of mine and it wasn't an easy task for me to take my leave after having lived and worked with them for almost 4 years, but I simply had to move on, to go to the holy lands, and I couldn't resist my inner urge no longer. Besides teaching me how to fight, which Giaccomo took over from Ètienne with the words 'You know, he is really good with the feather and he can talk you into unconsciousness in less than an hour, but the sword and the matters of war you better leave to me' to which Ètienne had to agree with a smile and friendly comment 'Yes, since I realised that it was more important to actually use the brain as weapon, I'll gladly leave the crude work to the crude workers'. Ètienne also taught me the basics of how to read, write, some basic maths as well as economics fundamentals and even some Latin. So one day I left Genova, after having found myself a nice ship on which I would be sailing to the town of Tarsus. It happened to be a ship named 'Raging Howler' which somehow brought a big smile on my face as it reminded me somewhat of my first vessel I made a trip on, the 'Howling Raider'. And I should be even more surprised when I got to know who the petty officer of this boat was. I was just inspecting the boat and where to stash all my stuff, when someone or something grabbed me from behind and yelled 'Your money or your life!' I was shocked to the bones for the smallest part of a second but then I somehow remembered the rough tone of the voice and when I turned around, I looked into the familiar face of Borg and immediately in that moment received another sensitive clap on my shoulder which sent all the stuff I carried with me onto the ship deck's floor. With a broad grin he said 'Aye mate, you've become almost a real man now, and handsome, women will like you if I am not around'. We told each other the stories that had happened during the last 4 years and spent much time of the sea travel together, either drinking or singing or both, when he hadn't had to work. He also told me that the ship he used to work on, the 'Howling Raider', was captured by some sea raiders and the only reason he was still alive was that he knew the raider captain from a former time, of which he didn't want to tell much, and so he got away and hired again on this ship because he liked the name of it. Upon him asking me if there hadn't been any women in my life I told him that there once was a girl in my home village, but alas, she got married to another guy... he shouted out 'Bah, romantic rubbish! If you were my student you already would have had more women than hairs on your ahss! Buaha...', he still had some minor problems with the language, but I roughly got the idea though, 'Aaaand...' I interupted him 'there was Theresa and Maria whom I got to know, well, pretty close during my stay in Genova. But nothing serious developped along the time, unfortunately', 'Now that's my boy! That's how it should be like!' he replied with a satisfied nodding and added 'No wonder women got attracted to you, you have a nice head on your shoulders, you know. Cheers mate, let's lift our jars to honour all the wonderful womens ahsses in the world!' How could I not agree to such a nice kind of a toast.
My second attempt at sea travel was the most peaceful times on sea I should ever have up until now, the waters were completely calm most of the times and the sun was shining brightly all the way through, until we reached our destination - Tarsus. There I said goodbye to Borg and really hoped that we both would see each other again, some different time at some different place maybe. The place in the holy lands was not at all how I had imagined it to be, the people were very poor and there were beggars all around almost everywhere, city guards pushed their ways recklessly through the crowds in order to open the way for some mounted nobles clad in coats of mail, who looked at the surroundings with a very wrinkled nose. In fact they looked so weird that I barely could refrain myself from laughing about this scenery. What gives, I decided to inspect the general tavern quality in this place and so I asked my way through until I found someone who spoke a language I was able to speak and understand. Then I got to a tavern simply called 'Cross Section', bearing some kind of Templar cross as a symbol but the cross being made out of beer jars - seemed like the right place to be in. I got myself a couple of jars of the local ale and was not too excited about its quality, and you know how it is like - if the quality is low, you have to balance it with quantity (oh my god, I almost sound like the good old Ètienne).
In short, I got a very bad hangover and when I left for the street in order to find myself a nice little barn to sleep in (I got so used to the horses nickering during my barn times in Genova, that I barely could fall asleep without it, really...) when I suddenly heard a blade being unsheathed. I thought by myself 'Oh my god, this can't be real now, can it? I've travelled all around the world, nothing happened, and now, being in the holy lands I get ambushed? This is ridiculous, no way...'. But indeed it was a jerk coming for me with his blade and a shield raised up, so I cocked my crossbow and waited for him, still having the hope that he was just a drunkyard and would realise that this won't have a happy ending. But no, he was firm in his decision, he ran towards me, lifted his sword to cut me down and at that moment when he somewhat dropped his shield cover, I let lose my crossbow bolt and shot him right into the face. Not sure if it was the alcohol or the image of the dead body, but I instantly felt sick and puked right into the next corner. I got nervous and broke out in sweat, already hearing foot steps, certainly the city guards, I didn't know what to do... how to explain... when I suddenly heard a whisper from the shadows of a narrow street. 'Hey you, psssst. Come over here, move, c'mon!'. Not knowing what else I should do and fearing the consequences I followed the voice and the guy who directed me through the streets into some kind of entrance at a house. 'How careless you are, what if that's another villain, trying to rob you?!' came to my mind, so I readied my sword. But the guy told me that I needn't to worry, he was an employee of the local merchant and saw what happened and that I did nothing wrong, and in fact his master, the merchant of Tarsus, was looking for someone who had the nerves and some ability in fighting, because he needed an urgent job to be done, it were about life and death he told me.
This got my attention, so I inquired him to tell me a little bit more but he didn't and instead told me that I should wait until I had met with the merchant himself. There was some uproar to be heard in the streets and as soon as it faded out we left the house and he directed me to another building which looked like it would belong to some well-situated person. 'Let me go in first and talk to the merchant, I will pick you up in the hallway' he said to me as we entered the house. After some time he returned and led me to the merchant's business room, where I was told that the merchant's brother was captured by a group of bandits and that they would blackmail the merchant. He also assumed that one of the city guards captains was behind the crime in order to get some political or economic benefits from having the merchant in his hands or whatever. He made the promise to me of receiving a nice sum of money and of course some renown and that I would be well known in this city and would always be welcome here if I had nowhere else to go, if I helped him in this matter. I agreed and the next day I looked around in the taverns for some kind of mercenaries or other people that were willing to help me for some money. I finally found 9 guys equipped with some melee weapons and crossbows who I could convince to join me in this 'noble deed' as I described it without flushing too badly. So we looked around, outside the town, in the region the merchant had described to me and soon I found some tracks in that region, which was otherwise void of humans, and some time later smelled a fire and spotted several men, camping besides some trees.
I explained the crossbowmen what the plan was and they agreed to it, so we got near the camp site and let lose a rain of bolts upon which 2 of the 4 guys fell over, dead or dying, each one got hit by several bolts. The other two guys jumped up and started to yell around, panicking and fleeing in all directions. As I was the only one with a horse, I jumped up on it, drew my sword and followed after the first one I could see. My heart was beating like crazy and blood shot up into my head, I seemed to not be able to have just one concrete thought but on the other hand was overwhelmed with a stream of emotions and excitement. It felt like when I was a young lad where I had accompanied my dad during a hunt, but much more intensive. After some 50 metres I closed up to one of the escapists, bowed myself to the right in the saddle and swung through as Giaccomo had taught me to. I was surprised that I felt almost no resistance, just saw the blood shooting out of the guy whom I hit and he staggered and fell down almost immediately with a gargling cry. I stopped my horse and rode back to him where he was still lying around, spitting blood and his body moved around in spasms in his agony. I climbed down, fought against a strong urge to puke and sickness that overcame me, went over to him and relieved him with a final thrust of my sword. While standing there my mind went blank and I don't know for how long I stared at the dead body, when suddenly I was brought back to reality by the screams of some individual. I saw 2 crossbowmen running into my direction, grinning and yelling 'We got one, we got one!'. On arriving, one of the 2 mercs stopped, looked at the dead guy and nodded his head in an appreciating manner 'Good work, sir. Very well done.' I gave him a short and confused glance, then mounted my horse and rode over to the prisoner in order to inquire him, where the merchant's brother was hidden. He didn't hesitate to tell where he was if we would just let him go and he promised that we would see him never again if we would just let him live and go his ways. So I ordered the mercs to let him go, which they did unwillingly, and pack all their gear together in order to head towards the direction the subject had described to us.
On arriving, I first moved out and scouted the area, looked where the villains would mainly be and from where it was best to attack. I then held counsel with my men, described them the situation and the leader of the guys took over the splitting of the group so that we would close up to the camp in a pincher movement, first shoot a volley, then half of them would reload while the rest of us would immediately storm the camp, so that we would have cover from the ranged behind while the rest of us were fighting them in melee. 2 of the guys wouldn't join in the melee but stay at an elevated position in order to provide cover with their crossbows. The scenery was a mostly void area of desert vegetation around some kind of puddle of water, with some tents at the far end in front of a cave or something. We could make out that most of them were probably near that place, while we had to take into account of some outposts or sentinels on the mountainous areas to the left and right of the camp site. Therefore we split up in three groups and closed up to the camp.
Even before we came into shot distance I already heard battle cries from the left, where one group of us had indeed encountered some sentinel at the mountainous area to our left and were fighting with them. Already being discovered we moved forward quickly in order to use the occasion that the guys in the main camp were still somewhat surprised. We rushed into shot distance at the double and shot our crossbows unto the guys at the main camp site. A few got hit but now the other ones knew what was going on and the whole camp got really busy, each one of them was picking up some weapon or looked around for one. Then they engaged us an ran towards us, but meanwhile our third group had reached the top of the right hand hilly area. They obviously had also encountered some sentinel as out of the corner of my eye I could get a glimpse at one of them cleaning his blade by wiping it unto some cloth or whatever, while the other two kneeled down and shot the first two enemies that were the nearest towards us. But the main bulk of the other opponents reached us and they were many more than we were, so we stood back-to-back fighting off their superior numbers, while I again heard the typical noise of crossbows being shot. This evened out the numbers and now we went into full attack, I blocked a guy who tried to cut me down with his falchion, stepped to his left and slashed him with a diagonal cut immediately followed by a cut straight downwards that severed his main artery in his neck. Another guy tried to stab me with his butchering knife but in the last moment I could parry him and chambered his next try to cut at my legs and ripped his throat up from side to side. Meanwhile all of us were engaged in the fight, one of us was already down, he had crawled some couple of yards back and held the right side of his body with both is hands. One other crossbowmen on the right flank waved nervously with his arms but I didn't know what he wanted and I had no time to think, because behind one of the tents another guy appeared and I saw 7 more of them exiting the cave, one got immediately nailed down. Now I could see why my guys were waving, there were even more of them coming... 'oh my god, this will end so bad' were my thoughts when I felt how I really got nervous now and must have turned pale or something because the captain of the guys who fought besides me glanced at me and started to grin 'Don't let yourself down now, we'll get them' he cried into my direction while dodging a spear attack shortly after, grabbing his axe with 2 hands and splitting the head of the enemy who tried to kill him. I got myself together, grabbed my sword and closed up to the cap and his brave 3 men fighting in the melee. Then I heard another 'zhwackk' a couple of times and more of our opponents were falling down. The 2 guys on our left flank reloaded and shot like hell, now I understood why they were the ones giving cover. From the right flank the other 3 guys were coming down and I recognized the one that had cleaned his blade, he now had a falchion in one hand and a butchering knife in the other, grinning from one ear to the other while being covered all over in blood 'We got them down, all of them, it's just them infront of you left' he cried on his way down, on which we all together attacked the remaining opponents in melee and cut them down like they were logs of wood and we were the lumberjacks, no pardon was given. I never encountered such a fury and bloodlust in myself, the cap had to catch me again because I was raging 'Ok now, it's over, knock it off - they're done' he told me with a very sincere but calm voice, used to giving orders, whereas he carefully closed up to me step by step with both his hands stretched out towards me in an appeasing manner while looking straight into my eyes.
When I got out of my rage and lust for blood we finally found the merchant's brother back in the cave, tied to some log of wood and freed him. The result was that 2 of us got wounded, but nothing critical, everyone would be well and sound in some time. All in all there were 21 enemies in the hideout of whom not one survived. We stayed a little bit at the camp site in order to search the criminals' stuff and took everything that could be worth something, bandaging the wounded and cared for the merchant's brother. We decided to stay there for the night, some distance aways from the camp, because it was already too late to return to the town. The next day we brought the merchant's brother back home and received our rightful reward. The merchant, whose name by the way was Johannis Rubnhaur, some 40 years of age, was born and grew up near Strassbourg in the Holy Roman Empire. He handed over the reward with a very thoughtful face, wrinkles of sorrow appearing on his forehead. As I got along with him quite good, he also had been several times to Genova, so we had a common topic to talk about, I asked him what still was wrong - his brother returned without a scratch, the villains were all slain. He looked up at me and his grey eyes seemed to pierce my mind, then a soft smile appeared on his face and his look got dazed and very tired when he turned his eyes away onto the table infront of him. 'Well, I've told you that the villains were not my only problem let alone the biggest one. There still is this captain of the city guard and I think I've found out who he is. I thought of him to be one of my closest friends and familiars but oh how wrong did I judge that character. I fear that unless we can catch him and put him to his rightful punishment, I won't be able to live in peace cause he won't let me.' Listening to his words I suggested 'But see, I have 9 formidable men at my disposal and you yourself can surely bring up one or the other capable guy too. So, what should that captain have up his sleeves that would come and endanger a mission where he let's say get caught red-handed? How many of the men he commands can be entangled in his dark schemings? As far as I know the regular division size is what, like 30-50 men a city guard captain commands?' After carefully listening to my talk his look suddenly changed as if a burden was lifted off of him 'I am glad that you've made that proposition. Indeed he probably has only 5-10 of his men under his spell and I have received reliable information that he's gonna let some smugglers do their dirty business against a little 'fee' this night at the Northern town gate. How about we prepare a little surprise for him? It shall definitely not be to your financial disadvantage.' I agreed on his proposal and we came to terms to meet near the Northern gate in the evening where the merchant and his men would also be around, and on his signal we would start our mission to free the town of a corrupt city guard captain and thus eliminate the merchant's worst enemy.
I kept myself a little bit aside from the main street, leading to the Northern gate, and observed the scenery. Several people were still out on the streets and I couldn't by any means tell who belonged to us or who didn't. Just my buddies, the mercs, I was able to distinguish from the other guys. They had packed away their crossbows because otherwise it would be too obvious that they were up for something. Their melee weapons they had hidden quite well, I couldn't detect that either one of them even had a weapon, besides that bloodthirsty guy with the falchion and the butchering knife. He was leaning at some house corner carving around on a piece of wood with his way too big knife. A little later I also saw the merchant who threw around a quick glance and then disappeared into a house. About half an hour later, it was almost dark and the guards at the Northern gate were changed by half a dozen new ones, led by the rogue captain himself. They also looked around for some fishy suspects upon which I immediately fell back into the shadows of the side street I was waiting at. From the house in which the merchant disappeared I saw a hooded figure emerging, walking away in a sluggish walk, when suddenly he dropped his hood and yelled 'Now!'. I immediately recognized Johannis, the merchant, grabbed my sword and board and moved up to the next guard I could see. The same with my men and several other figures, even women (!), who seemed to work for the merchant. The guards were stupified, as were their 'customers' who had just entered the town through the Northern gate. A fierce fight broke out but the few guards and the smugglers stood no chance against us. Even before I was able to reach my first and only victim, whom I cut off a leg, Mr butchering-knife-carver had sliced two guards and was heading straight towards the captain with a diabolic smile on his face. I had to call him back and shouted 'No Butterknife (his professional nickname), we need to capture him alive!'. The fight didn't last very long, our guys finished them off in less than a minute and took the guard captain for prisoner. As was agreed upon with the merchant, my mercs buddies and I should disappear into the lowlife city district around the harbour, and there we would meet at the tavern 'Holy Tits' in 3 days, in the late afternoon. Because he wasn't sure about how well everything would work out, it would be best for us to keep our presence low after these occurences.
When finally we met in the tavern, Johannis Rubnhaur, the merchant, appeared there quite happily and explained to us that everything worked out quite well and as intended and that the guard captain was imprisoned for several offenses against the law. He would be no danger to anyone any longer and he would never see daylight again. Johannis told me that besides the lord of Tarsus, even the king of the holy lands had gotten knowledge of my name and noble deeds and that he was most gracious for our help. Moreover, the lord of the town of Tarsus wished to let us know that whenever we liked to we were always welcome in his town and would always find the gates wide open. Finally we got our reward and received even a bonus from the town's merchant for being such a great help to him. After all what had happened I decided not to release my new won mercs buddies but further keep them in my company, and thus we continued our journey through the lands together, for the next two years, looking for a nice coin to be made, no matter if it were to slay a traitor, gather some taxes or chasing bandits around the place. From now on I lived the life of a sellsword and bounty hunter, and I should enjoy it more than I ever thought I would or could have.
your "Right to Rule" wasn't high enough
