Dog the Mercenary

Dog sat up to the sound of merrymaking and drunkards. He reached for his axe, finding it gone, his ribs aching as he snarled. He rose, trying to steady himself as studied his surroundings.

He found himself inside a brown tent, his rucksack several inches away in a pile near his armor. He glanced to his other side, finding a pair of blue eyes staring up into his.

“You woke up fast.” She said, “Looks like you are tough.”

Dog shifted, rubbing at his chest. He frowned at the fabric beneath his fingers, finding his body bound in bandage and cloth.

“The band doctor set your ribs, and stitched your stab wound. We didn’t think you’d be up for another week.” She yawned.

“Where?”

“You don’t remember?”

Dog grunted.

“Victoria beat you, you’ve been traveling with us, and by extension me. Welcome to the Highgarden Company.” She sat up, stretching her arms above her head.

Dog’s eyes struggled to focus on what he was seeing. His eyes narrowed, and he backpedaled, smashing his throbbing skull against the tent beam. He yelped, curling up in a ball and wrapping his arms over his head as his eyes throbbed.

“The doctor said you had a concussion.” She laughed, “They said you were dumb, but I didn’t think you were this dumb. How’d you manage to hit Victoria?”

Dog cracked an eye at her naked form. Her skin was light, and blemish free. Dark hair fell around bright blue eyes amidst the darkness of their shared tent, her teeth curved into a wicked grin. He glanced away from the rise and fall of her chest, the slight mounds smaller than he’d seen. She was lithe, and lean, with taught muscles that stretched with her every move. He sniffed, eyes narrowed.

“What? Never seen a woman naked before?”

His hackles rose, and she shifted away from him.

“Gods, calm down.”

His hand twitched towards his axe.

“Down! Bad dog!” She attempted.

“Take me to her.” He rasped.

“What?” She asked.

“Where is she?” He repeated, “Victoria!”

She rolled her eyes, “Fine. Get out and let me dress, freak!”

Her foot lashed out so fast he struggled to follow it, his eyes glimpsing her womanhood beneath their shared blanket as his brain struggled to reboot. She connected with his jaw, and he grunted, stumbling out of the tent, cracking his chin and neck as he snarled.

“By the Gods, are you made of metal?” She sighed, rubbing her small foot, “Just hang on! Let me get dressed!”

She shoved his tunic and armor out after him, grunting as she pushed his axe in the dirt. He dressed quickly, hands beneath the head of his weapon as he glared at the tent village now revealed to him.

Men and less women celebrated without a care in the world, alcohol and food flowing from the tables that littered the camp. Lanterns cast an orange glow over everything, hanging above his head like stars in the sky.

Dog snarled, brandishing his axe as he backed towards the wood line at his back.

“Where do you think you’re going, Puppy?”

Dog turned, fangs bared. Victoria looked towards him with an amused grin, her white pants and tunic flawless even with the dirt and dust that surrounded them. She strode forward, arms folded over her chest.

“Well?” She pressed into him, and he froze. She grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes to meet her own, “Where do you think you’re off to? Forget our little deal?”

He glanced away, axe pressed towards the dirt, “No.”

“So?”

“Crowds.” He grunted, cocking his head towards the festivities, "New place. New smells. Don't like this."

“Oh? You seemed plenty comfortable on the battlefield.”

“Crowds.” He insisted, eyes firm.

Victoria laughed, “Very well, come with me. Harlow!”

“Yes ma’am?” Harlow called, stumbling out of the tent as she fought with her tunic.

“I thought I told you to bring him to me when he woke?”

“I was trying!” Harlow insisted, “That freak was gonna attack me! I told him to wait and I’d bring him to you.”

“Is this true?” Victoria asked.

“I don’t know her.” Dog said.

“That is true.”

“You beat me.” Dog continued, “Not her.”

Victoria smirked, “That’s also true. Would you have rather woken up next to me?”

Dog’s eyes narrowed, “No.”

“Shame.” Victoria replied, still smiling, “Go join the festivities, Harlow. I’ve got him.”

“I’d have to advise against that, ma’am!” Harlow insisted, “He’s dangerous. He’s no better than an animal. Please allow me to escort you? Is Dread back with the others? Dread could do it!"

“No, and nonsense.” Victoria waved her off, “You couldn’t stop him anyways. He made John look like an amateur. You’d only fare a little better. Go.”

Harlow pouted, but obliged.

“Come.” Victoria beckoned, tugging him by his sleeve, “You can come sit with me.”

She led him out past the tent city, guiding him up a nearby hill. They wandered a short way through the woods, coming out atop a cliff overlooking the band campground.

“Come. Sit.” Victoria guided him, laughing as he winced, his axe in his lap, “You should’ve surrendered, I had to put an awfully large hole in you, you know.”

“No.” Dog replied.

“Awfully stubborn, aren’t you?”

Dog said nothing, staring out at the valley of stars hidden in the leaves.

“How old are you, Dog?”

“Don’t know.”

“Where are you from?”

“Don’t remember.” He said.

Victoria glanced at him, “You're not lying, are you? Are you a child?”

“No.” Dog said.

“I’d feel guilty if you were. Having you sleep with a harlot like Harlow, it’d set a pope aflame just hearing it.” She laughed, “How’d you learn to fight?”

Dog hesitated, “Don’t know.”

“How long have you been fighting?”

He thought for a moment, “I can’t remember when I wasn’t.”

Victoria raised an eyebrow, “Was that a full sentence? I didn’t realize you could talk so well.”

He glared, but said nothing.

“I don’t suppose you know why they call you, Dog, do you?”

“I do.”

Victoria waited, chuckling, “So why is your name, Dog?”

“It’s what they sold me for.”

“Pardon?”

“They traded me for a dog.” He said, “So I am Dog.”

Victoria laughed, “Good Gods, that’s dark. So why don’t you change it? I’ll allow it.”

He looked at her as if she’d grown a second head.

“You’ve never considered changing it?”

“No.”

“Why in all the hells not?”

“Don’t need to.”

“I suppose. Do you not care what others think? That they laugh at you? Call you an animal?”

“Why would I?”

“Well as foreign as a concept as it might seem, most people like fitting in.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Don’t you have any friends?”

“No.”

She hummed, “I guess that all makes sense then.”

“Why?”

“I’m interested in what my Dog thinks.”

“I don’t really think.”

“Yes you do.” Victoria said, “You think a lot. You just don’t think like the rest of these morons.”

“What?”

“I can see it. You think more than the rest. That axe? You could swing it more ways than they’d imagine. I watched you, when you stumbled out of that tent.”

Dog stared.

“You were analyzing, calculating, your mind running like a machine in the capital. You aren’t built to live through their smile minded nonsense, their absurd small problems. You’re built to fight, to survive, to live on the battlefield.” She cupped his chin, and he struggled to meet her eyes, “That’s exactly what I need. I don’t need sycophants, I don’t need yesmen, I don’t need blind followers. I need tools. Tools to accomplish my dreams. I need you.”

Dog felt a bomb go off in his mind, his ears ringing.

“From now on, you are mine. Until the day you defeat me, your life is in my hands.” She smiled, her face aglow within the lantern light, hands warm on his cheeks, “You will kill, live, fuck, and die at my command. You will live for me, until you are strong enough to beat me.”

Dog turned away, “Understood.”