The Life and Suffering of a Mercenary Captain

Gavaine awoke slowly to the sounds of a rumbling wagon, marching, and sporadic chatter. It was late evening, but that didn't stop him from being groggy and unaware of his surroundings.

"Finally, awake huh?" A gruff voice said. "Excellent, we begin your training now!"

A boot smashed into his body and his eyes shot open as the pain jumpstarted his adrenaline. In that moment between when the boot smashed into him and falling off the cart, he saw his tormentor.

A sticky dwarf with a bald head and thick black beard grinned at him. His brown eyes were almost hidden by his equally bushy eyebrow.

"Good luck keeping up with the march kid. See if you survive it, if not, oh well. Hahaha"

The booming laughter of the dwarf faded as the cart rapidly gained distance on him.

Years of city living kicked in at the last moment and Gavaine twisted his body, using the momentum he hit the ground with to spring to his feet.

It was at this moment he realized he wasn't wearing the same clothes as in the city. He was in a brand new brown tunic with green breeches. New boots adorned his feet. He kicked the ground, nice and sturdy.

It was all he had time for as the sounds of marching got closer. He turned around and realized men and women of all shapes and sizes marching in small groups of six.

They all wore the same patch. A Deklan, a sort of six-legged dear with no antlers, prancing between two trees. He knew of this mercenary company.

The Dancing Deklans were renowned for getting the job done at any cost. The large man who fed him the laces food...he must have been Argus the Indomitable, Captain of the entire company!

Gavaine celebrated a little inside, but it died down quickly when he realized his predicament. Sure, he'd voluntarily joined the company, but he heard of their gruelling training.

Only a third of their new recruits ever make it through. The infamous Hell Season they called it. They subject you to the worst treatment and if you make it out the other side, then you're in.

Gavaine started running at a good pace towards the wagon in the distance in front of him. His legs might be short, but he definitely has the stamina to keep up!

His thoughts kept gravitating towards his new life. Sure, it beat stealing in the city, where he could get caught and sentenced any time. However, this...really wasn't much better by comparison.

He accomplished the dream of all young boys, joining a mercenary company, but at what cost?

Lost in his thoughts, he wasn't as aware of his surroundings and almost crashed into another boy. This boy wore clothes on the finger side of things, as far as outdoor clothing was concerned.

"Be aware of where you step." The boy said without so much as looking behind. Gavaine jogged forward a little bit and came up beside the other boy.

"Marcus de Santelia, well formerly." The boy introduced himself. Gavaine check him out.

Marcus had chocolate colored hair that was nearly trimmed and laid back. A rather aristocratic looking face with a Romanesque nose and blue eyes. He was maybe a couple of inches taller.

His clothes were definitely expensive outdoor. He was probably a rich kid.

"Gavaine." Gavaine replied.

"Ah, a peasant. How quaint." The rich kid said. "Though, being the third son of a Viscount, I cannot state that I am much better. It was either this or pushing paper at some gods forbidden corner of the kingdom."

"Pushing paper?" Gavaine asked.

"Yes. Taking up positions behind a desk and filling forms all day as some lowly functionary to a higher born noble. What ever did you think I had meant?" Marcus explained.

"Dunno. Never really had time for studies." Gavaine said.

"Ah, a street rat. Well that explains your rather...uneducated manner of speaking." Marcus said, though his face was neutral. "Well out with it. How old are you?"

"About twelve, I think?" Gavaine never bothered to count the years outside the orphanage.

"Heavens, you are practically a child!" Marcus exclaimed. "I am going to be fifteen this year. A full adult here in the Dinas Kingdom. Not that it even means much."

"Wadda ya mean?" Gavaine casually slipped back into a manner of street slang.

"If you must know, every child who turns fifteen must undergo a coming of age trial, at least here in the Dinas Kingdom." Marcus sniffed. "Yes, even a peasant of no background such as yourself must submit for one. It is an age old tradition handed down since the founding."

There was a pregnant pause as both boys slowed down to catch their breath. They looked around to find the mercenary company marching ever onwards. The wagon in which Gavaine fell from was far in the distance.

"Hmph. The sun will be setting in a couple of hours. These fools would be wise to break for camp." Marcus said.

"Somehow, I don't think we will be stopping to camp." Gavaine replied.

"What makes you say such a thing?" Marcus asked.

"The last thing that dwarf said before booting me off the wagon was something about surviving the march..." Gavaine tried to recall what was said to him exactly, but it slipped his mind.

"Of course. That means Hell Season started the moment we broke camp back at the city." Marcus said. "It will be extraordinarily difficult to survive Hell Season on one's own. Tell you what...Gavaine was it?"

Gavaine nodded.

"How about you and I form a partnership of sorts. We agree to help each other out, at least until Hell Season is over. If you find it difficult or even impossible to continue our partnership afterwards, no hard feelings" Marcus offered. Gavaine thought about it. It wasn't a bad deal, not by any measure.

If he accepted this deal, he'd have a lower member of the nobility as a partner for the time being. He had no reason not to accept, and let's face it. He was absolutely clueless about the world and anything outside of Markus City.

"Alright, you've yourself a deal!" Gavaine shook Marcus's hand and they both took off running again. This day would mark one of the most important events later in history, but for today? It was just the beginning of hell for the two boys...