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bedlamsbardPredates this by a few days or so. Influences from Tamora Pierce, George R.R. Martin, Scott Lynch, S.M. Stirling, Mercedes Lackey, probably someone else. Features so many OCs and references that there's a glossary at the end. *winces* I think there may be more here than in Dust.
The Whistling Wolf sits on the edge of the Natarene-Narnian border, at the heart of Couer de'Wilde, the last town before Natare turns into Narnia. Like most of the border towns Breakneck's been to -- and the Red Company's been to a lot of border towns -- it mixes freely between both countries; even in the midst of wartime, the border guards of both countries don't bat an eye.
The Whistling Wolf is a three-storey sprawl of a building; by the time Breakneck and the rest of the Rangers get there just before dusk, it's already brightly lit-up, music spilling out the open windows. They hand over their weapons at the door; there's a guarded room just inside the front door filled with long rows of weapons racks. Right now, most of them are full.
"Trickster's balls, Piper," Ossian says as Piper divests himself of his seventh knife, "what are you carrying around in there, an armory?"
Piper holds up one finger and digs around down the front of his pants. Breakneck covers his face with one hand, although he looks out from between his fingers to see Piper pull out a pair of kamagong sticks, one from each leg.
"How in seven hells do you expect to get those out during a fight?" Bear jibes. "Lot of good they do you then, Ranger."
Piper flips him off. "You weren't complaining when I was saving your ass in the ghostwood."
"You need to pat us down?" Ysabeau asks the Wolf guard.
He waves her off. "The Red Company's good for it, Lieutenant. Go on in."
The majority of the Red Company is up on the second floor, although they see Group Askew on the first on their way up, and a couple Runamoks on the stairs.
"Rangers!" Riggins hollers drunkenly as he spots them, waving his mug in the air.
"What took you so damn long, Ysabeau?" Beka shouts. "You didn't get lost and wander into Narnia, start the war early, did you?
A group of fauns in Narnian red and gold over by the pool tables look up and glare in unison. Beka doesn't seem to notice.
"Fuck you, Gervase!" Ysabeau yells back merrily, pulling up an empty chair and waving over a waitress to rattle off their orders.
The Rangers swarm in on a couple of mostly empty tables; the occupants take one look at the approaching merc horde and clear off. Breakneck drops into a chair and veers away from Piper's encircling arm -- "Fuck off, Piper, I know where your hands have been" -- and takes his glass of Narnian whiskey when the waitress come back with their drinks.
Breakneck taste his whiskey. "Damn," he drawls. "That's smooth."
"No one makes better liquor than the Narnians," Ossian says, inhaling his own whiskey. "Glasswater. Seven, that's beautiful. All right, Breakneck, listen and learn. Those are Natarene Army regulars over there, staking out the card tables."
"Green tabard," Breakneck says. "Green and bronze tabards in the northwest corner, King's Own. Valeray's Villains at the southeast tables, Icolan's Earthshakers at the southwest. Narnian Army in the northeast and on the eastern half of the bar. I don't know the others."
"Good to know I can still teach you some things," Ossian snorts.
"The others are nobles," Ysabeau says, glancing over her shoulder. "You stay away from them, kids. I don't want the Captain to have to bail you out. Try not to bring down shame on the Company. We're the Red Company, not Icolan's Earthshakers or Brieux's Bastards."
"Hell, LT, don't worry about us," Bear says. "We're too smart to fuck around with nobles, Natarene, Narnian, or otherwise. And if Breakneck here tries anything, we'll haul him off and talk a little Ranger sense into him."
Ysabeau snorts and turns back to the officers.
"All right, Breakneck," Ossian says, "listen and learn. At the bar, Lords Jourdain and Savile. Saviile's in the red, Jourdain's in the purple. Rumor says Piero's tapped him to fight in the Eschmarnat; he's supposed to be one of the best swordsmen in the country. That's the Lord Commander of the King's Own, Lord Geary, drinking with Jaisen Ettore, the Bastard of Queensgrace. He went over three years ago when Piero declared his mother's marriage invalid in favor of Lord Landrieu's second wife."
"You mean he's Narnian?" Breakneck asks, trying to make sense of that.
"He is now," Mayfair says. "He was Natarene, now he's Narnian, because Peter offered him lands and a title." she pauses, staring over Piper's shoulder. "He might be talking to the Lord Commander, but he's looking at Prince Marcely like he wants to kill him. The Crown Prince had better be damn careful not to go anywhere alone, or Piero might have to find himself a new heir."
"Ettore might have to get in line," Piper says, nodding at the stairs.
Breakneck looks, blinking to see the three sleek great cats that are suddenly on the floor -- two wildcats and a slim, elegant leopard that keeps turning its head from side to side like it's looking for something.
"They let those things in here?" Mayfair asks. She leans back. "Hey, LT, doesn't your uncle own this joint? Do they just let wild animals wander around?"
Ysabeau turns around again. "Those aren't wild animals," she says. "Those are talking animals out of Narnia, and that's the Narnian Royal Guard."
"Shit, is that Silvertongue?" Bear declares, sitting up. "And I was impressed by Marcely being here."
"That is Silvertongue," Ossian says. "And looks like Admiral Osumare Seaworth with him, Trickster knows why, Natare's landlocked, and Lady Fiorenza Paolucci. She's a lady knight who came out of Shoushan," he adds for Breakneck's sake.
He glances over. Seaworth is a stocky man with dark curls and a clever face; Paolucci is a tall, striking woman who walks like she owns the place. "Silvertongue?" he asks, assuming that Silvertongue is the slim, sharp-featured youth with the dark hair, the one who looks around like he's seeing straight into people's souls. He's young. He doesn't seem to be aware of this fact.
"Ten nobles says there's blood on the floor before the night's out," says Piper.
"Silvertongue is King Edmund of Narnia," Ossian explains. "Between him and Marcely -- oh, this could get interesting."
"He's the king of Narnia?" Breakneck says. "In here?"
"A king of Narnia, not the king of Narnia," Mayfair corrects. "That would be his brother Peter, the High King, who's currently missing, which is why we have this lovely job invading his country."
"Move," Paolucci says to the mercs at the table next to the Rangers, and they take one look at the three big cats and clear out without protest, leaving their abandoned seats to the Narnian nobles. "Are you still drinking rum, you old pirate?"
"You know me so well, you Shoushani warhorse," Seaworth replies, "and you know his majesty is going to drink some girly mixed drink --"
"Girly?" King Edmund protests.
"I'll show you girly, Seaworth," Paolucci calls over her shoulder as she heads off to the bar.
Breakneck listens with his half an ear to the rest of his squad's mild bickering, most of his attention on the Narnians or some reason. There's something about King Edmund that draws his eye, and Breakneck doesn't understand it, but there it is. Edmund doesn't look at him, though; he and Seaworth are speaking in low voices, with the occasional addition from one of the two wildcats. The leopard doesn't say anything, just keeps looking around.
Paolucci comes back with their drinks and three bowls for the cats, dropping into her seat and sliding Seaworth's and King Edmund's glasses across the table to them. "Prince Marcely's in here," she reports.
"I've noticed," Edmund says.
"Prince Marcley's coming over here," she adds, glancing over her shoulder.
"Good, we can dispense with all the fancy Nat ritual nonsense and go straight to the war," says Seaworth.
"Ten nobles on Silvertongue," Piper says, and Breakneck jumps; he's nearly forgotten about his squad.
"Where is your patriotism, Ranger?" Mayfair demands. "I'll match you there."
"I'm from Archenland," Piper points out, his voice very dry.
"Ten on Marcely," Bear says. "Silvertongue's not his brother Bittersteel."
"Silvertongue single-handedly conquered the Lone Islands for Narnia," says Ossian. "Ten on him. Breakneck, LT, are you getting in on this?"
Breakneck doesn't answer. Neither does Ysabeau. There's a pool of silence spreading through the room, centered on the Narnians' table and Prince Marcely and his bodyguards. One of the wildcats sits up and growls.
"Back off, Natare," Seaworth says, looking up at Marcely over the rim of his glass. "All we're doing is having a drink."
Marcely ignores him and leans down over the table. "You're going to lose a chunk of your country, Narnia. And one of your sisters, at least. I hope it's Lucy; she looks like she'd be a sweet handful in bed. Susan's the better catch politically, but she's a little too uptight for me, you know what I mean?"
If anyone had said anything like that about one of Breakneck's sisters, prince or not, he'd lay them out, but all Edmund does is sit back and tilt his head to the side. "Oh, Lu's a handful all right," he says. "She might snap you in half if you're not too careful."
"Without your brother, your army's going to be overrun. They're going to fall apart and be slaughtered. Isn't it just too bad that Peter's not here, that he's gone missing --"
Edmund surges to his feet and catches the front of Marcely's tunic in both hands, throwing him down on the table. Glasses go flying as Paolucci and Seaworth shove their chairs back, both reaching for swords that aren't there. Everyone in the room is on their feet, Breakneck and the rest of the Rangers included.
"What the hell did you and your bastard father do to my brother?" Edmund shouts at Marcely. "Everyone in six countries knows you took him, where the hell is he? What did you do?"
Marcely spits at him.
Edmund punches him in the face.
One of the Natarene knights swings at him from behind and Paolucci catches the man's fist, twisting it up behind his back as she slams her knee up into his groin and then his face. It's enough of a distraction that Marcely can kick out at Edmund, knocking him backwards so that the prince can roll off the table and throw himself at the Narnian king.
Chaos.
Natarenes and Narnians rush each other; the mercs throw themselves into the fray as an excuse to avenge personal vendettas or hey, just to fight. Breakneck finds himself trading blows with a big red-haired knight that might be Narnian, might be Natarene he doesn't know and doesn't care. He ducks a Villain with a broken bottle in his fist and hooks a Natarene regular around the ankle, sends him crashing to the floor and spins to block a Bastard's uppercut, catching the woman a low blow in the stomach.
At the heart of the mess are Prince Marcely and King Edmund, hammering away at each other and shouting insults and imprecations, King Edmund screaming about his brother.
Breakneck sees a man in the green and bronze of the King's Own moving in on King Edmund from behind, a broken chair leg clutched in one hand. Some kind of misplaced heroism makes Breakneck shove through the mass of fighting men and women, humans and nonhumans.
"Hey!" he shouts just as Edmund finally knocks Marcely out, and catches the would-be kingslayer a clean right hook across the face. The man growls and swings at him, a little drunkenly, and Breakneck uses his forward momentum to catch his forearm and throw him over his hip, where someone promptly steps on him. He won't be fighting any wars anytime soon, and that means his pay will be docked. Poor bastard. His own damn problem.
Breakneck looks up to see Edmund staring at him like the king's just seen a ghost. "Peter?" he says.
Breakneck stares back at him.
"Peter," Edmund says again, sounding both more desperate and more certain, and starts to move forward toward him.
Breakneck takes an automatic step back. A fighter stumbles into him and he turns to give as good as he got, but the man drops before Breakneck can lay a hand on him.
Ysabeau grabs his arm. "Come on, Ranger, we're getting the hell out of here," she declares, shouting to be heard over the solid roar of sound. "The Red Company's not getting mixed up in this shit!" She drags him forward, using her gauntleted forearms to batter her way to the stairwell, picking up Bear and a Runamok along the way.
Breakneck looks back over his shoulder, where he sees Edmund scream, "Peter!" again as Osumare Seaworth and Jaisen Ettore throw their arms around his shoulders and pull him away, Edmund struggling and fighting to break their holds and get free.
The fight is already spilling down the stairs, though, surprisingly, it hasn't quite reached the first floor; all the drinkers and gamers down here look vaguely surprised by the sounds coming from upstairs, as well as the exodus of men and women with the Red Company badge on their breasts.
"You clowns get your gear and go back to camp," Ysabeau orders, shoving Bear and Breakneck towards the knot of Rangers and the Runamok towards the table Tabor's standing on, bawling for all his fighters.
Ossian's counting them off as they straggle over. "Where's Piper?" he asks. "LT, we don't have Piper!"
"I'll find the rat bastard," Ysabeau says, turning back to the stairs, then freezes as the Captain himself emerges from the stairwell, herding the last Red Company stragglers before him.
"Red Company!" he orders, his clear tenor carrying easily. "Let's leave this circus, shall we?"
There's a ragged chorus of aye, aye, sirs from the officers, a stronger one from the noncoms, and then the two hundred or so Red Company fighters present start streaming towards the door. It takes a long time for them to all get their weapons back, and by then the fighting has spilled down the stairs and into the first floor, Galina's Sunslayers and the Thundering Herd, a heavy cavalry company out of Resi, getting into it with Natarene and Narnian Army regulars just for the hell of it.
The second Breakneck steps outside, his sword a reassuring weight on his back, a bdoy goes crashing through the window to land in the street, almost on top of Bear, who takes a hasty step backwards and then looks down. "Huh," he says.
Mayfair kicks the back of his leg. "Come on, before more of them start falling from the sky. Gods know it's not the Bastards I'd like to suddenly appear on the ground in front of me." She pauses significantly. "Edmund of Narnia, on the other hand...did you see the arse on that man? I'd like to --"
"Hold your tongue, Ranger!" Ysabeau barks.
"Aw, LT, you know you'd like to --"
"Ranger!" She jerks her chin over her shoulder, and they all turn to see the leopard who'd been with King Edmund shoving its way through the crowd, a brilliant splash of black and yellow dun against the dark leather of the Red Company uniforms.
"You!" it barks, its green eyes fixing on Breakneck. He flinches; there's something unnerving about that expression, and more so about hearing a human voice coming out of an animal's mouth. "What in the name of Aslan do you think you're playing at? Do you have any idea how many people are looking for you? Do you realize --"
"Step off, Narnian," Ysabeau snaps, stepping forward and laying her hand on her sword-hilt. "Narnian Royal Guard or not, this is Natare and these are my men, so if you want to talk to one of them you go through me."
"This is none of your business, you Natarene merc bitch," the leopard says dismissively, moving forward smoothly. "Your siblings are going insane, your country has gone insane, Natare's invading and you're fighting for them? Are you thinking straight? Do you even understand what's happening, what you're doing?"
Ossian draws his sword and steps up beside Ysabeau. "My lieutenant just told you that if you want to talk to one of us, you go through her or Lord Commander Terblanche. This is the Red Company of Natare."
The leopard snarls. "This is just another bunch of sellsword scum. He is the High --"
"Kaikura!"
Breakneck jumps at the shout; it's the Narnian lady knight, Fiorenza Paolucci. She steps up beside the leopard and says, "King Edmund wants you; we're going back across the border before Piero finds out and does something stupid."
"He can't actually do something more stupid," the leopard -- Kaikura -- bites off. "I'm not leaving without --"
Paolucci leans down and grabs the ruff of fur around its neck. "The king of Narnia gave you an order, Kaikura."
Bear and Mayfair grab Breakneck's arms and start hauling him away, just as Kaikura yells, "He's not the king of Narnia!" and Lord Commander Mathin Terblanche, the captain of the Red Company, says, "Guardswoman, Lady Paolucci, I'd like you to step away from my soldiers, please."
Back at the camp, Bear produces a flask of Assiano apple brandy and passes it around. "What was that about?"
"Hell if I know," Piper says. "My Narnian's not up to scratch."
"What are you talking about?" Breakneck asks. "It was speaking Eschmoun."
Mayfair gives him an odd look. "No, it wasn't. That was Narnian. Are you telling me you understood it?"
Breakneck shifts uncomfortably on the tent floor. "Why would I understand Narnian?" he asks.
Her expression turns considering. "Seems like that Narnian attack cat was pretty interested in our mystery boy here," she says slyly.
"Can't be," Breakneck says, trying to head this off before it gets any further, "I'm human. I doubt there are so many of them in Narnia that they can misplace one."
"They did misplace the one," Piper says.
"This is true," Ossian says. "The High King's been missing for a year and a half now; that's what Marcely was baiting Silvertongue about."
"I thought Edmund was the king of Narnia," Breakneck says.
"A king, not the king," Osssian corrects. "Two kings, two queens. Bittersteel, High King Peter, he's the one that's been missing."
Ysabeau thrusts the tent flap aside and sticks her head in. "Are you lot still awake? If it's not too much trouble, we have been hired to fight a war here."
"Aye, aye, ma'am," they chorus, scattering for their cots. Breakneck caps Bear's flask and tosses it back to him; Mayfair blows out the lanterns.
"I wonder if you are the High King of Narnia," she whispers as the tent goes dark.
"Don't be ridiculous," Breakneck whispers back.
-
-
"Well, that was very mature," Susan says, thrusting the tent flap aside to come in. She crosses her arms over her chest.
Lucy looks up, pausing as she dabs some kind of poultice on Edmund's black eye, then continues.
"To be fair," Edmund says, "Marcely was asking for it."
"So you hit him?"
"'Hit' is a strong word."
"Edmund," Susan says, rolling her eyes. "You hit the crown prince of Natare and started a riot in the Whistling Wolf! I can't even say barfight, because according to Osumare there were over a thousand people involved and three dozen injuries. No deaths, but that just sounds like luck. Have you completely lost your mind?"
"Are you done?" Edmund asks.
"Excuse me?"
"You're my sister, not my mother, and you certainly don't outrank me. You don't have any right to lecture me, Susan!"
Lucy sits back and starts gathering up her ready-bag of medicines, scrambling a little to recork bottles and screw the caps back onto jars. She keeps her head bowed.
"Any right?" Susan demands. "Yes, Edmund, I am your sister!" And if we weren't already in a war, you would have started one! Even Peter wouldn't be so --"
Edmund's on his feet before he can think about it. "Don't you dare bring Peter into this, Susan! Peter's not here, and I am, and if you'd heard what Marcely was saying --"
Lucy snatches up her bag and makes a beeline for the tent flaps.
"You are a king of Narnia, not a common bar-brawler --"
"Do you even remember where we come from?"
"Edmund," Lucy says.
"-- and it shouldn't matter what he says, because you have to uphold the honor and reputation of this country --"
"We're already at war with them because you threw his sister out of the country, I don't actually see how it can get any worse."
"That's no excuse for --"
"Edmund!" Lucy shouts. "Susan!"
They look over. Fiorenza Paolucci and Kaikura are standing beside Lucy, both looking faintly embarrassed.
"Your majesties," Fiorenza begins, then stops, looking awkward. She's got a black eye and a cut on her cheekbone.
Kaikura, who's been in the Guard for a decade now, has no such reservations. "Have you told them?" she demands, sitting down and curling her tail around her feet.
Edmund hasn't told them, mostly because he hasn't been able to think of a really good way to explain to his sisters that he may have seen his missing brother -- his missing High King -- in the midst of a bar brawl in a foreign country. In a foreign country they happen to be at war with. And because, in the cold, hard light of day, he's not sure it was Peter. Except he knows Peter, he'll always know Peter, and as surely as he knows Susan and Lucy are his sisters, he knows that the blond mercenary in the Whistling Wolf was his brother.
"Told us what?" Susan demands, her voice hard-edged.
"I saw Peter," Edmund says.
Lucy drops her medicine bag.
Glass smashes and shatters on the tent floor, the fragrant scent of roses filling the tent, but nobody moves.
"Saw Peter?" Susan says finally, her voice very small. "In -- in Natare? In the Whistling Wolf?"
Edmund nods.
"Are you sure?" she asks, then runs roughshod over the words. "Then why didn't you bring him home, why didn't you bring him back?" The longing in her voice is sharp and desperate; she clneches on a bow and arrow that aren't there.
Edmund doesn't have a good answer to that, so he looks at Kaikura and Fiorenza instead, hoping they do where he doesn't.
Fiorenza shifts from foot to foot, then gets hold of herself, clasping her hands behind her back and looking straight ahead like she's back in the rank and file of the Emperor's court. "I found him, your majesty. I talked to some of my old friends in the Natarene merc companies, and some of them know who he is. He's part of the Red Company of Natare, under the command of the Lord Commander Mathin Terblanche. He's in a troop called the Rangers; his immediate superior is an officer named Ysabeau Montegut. His name is Breakneck. He has no memory past a year and a half ago."
"Oh, Aslan," Susan says in a rush and sits down in Lucy's abandoned chair, covering her face with her hands.
"I need to --" Bring him home. "-- talk to Terblanche," Edmund says after he lets out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. Thank the Lion, he hadn't imagined it. Peter's really out there, he's really alive. After so long hoping, he hardly dares believe it. Maybe he's bespelled, maybe he's just hurt, but he's there. Alive.
Fiorenza nods. "I don't have connections with the Company, but Jaisen should; they take a lot of their officers from younger sons and daughters and nobleborn bastards --"
Edmund licks his lips. "Tell him to set up the meet. Don't mention Peter -- Breakneck. I want to tlak to Terblanche about what Narnia can offer that Natare can't, if he asks."
"Of course, your majesty," Fiorenza says, painfully correct. Her gaze flicks to Susan, careful and worried.
Susan raises her head from her hands. "Peter," she breathes. "Do you really think --"
"I smell him every time I go over the border," Kaikura says. "I saw him outside the Whistling Wolf, saw him and smelled him, and my nose doesn't lie."
"You almost got into a fight with the entirety of the Red Company," Fiorenza hisses at her.
"Those Nat sellswords have no right to keep me from my High King --" The strain's been wearing on Kaikura more than usual lately, and Edmund can see the beginnings of madness in her big green eyes and unkempt fur. Peter's personal guard or not, that's no excuse for her not using her head.
"Shut up and go make the arrangements," he says softly. Lucy takes the opportunity to flee along with Fiorenza and Kaikura as they leave.
Once the three of them have gone, Edmund's campaign tent seems much smaller. Susan looks up at Edmund with wide, shining eyes. "Peter," she says again. "May Aslan help us, Peter."
Natare: a country on the western border of Narnia.
the King's Own: the King of Natare's personal fighting force, widely considered to be some of the best fighters in Natare
Eschmoun: the language of Natare
the Eschmarnat: a Natarene ritual that precedes any formal fighting in a war, consisting of seven bouts of single combat
the Seven: the seven Natarene gods; the Trickster is one of these
Piero: King of Natare
Marcely: Crown Prince of Natare
Rinee: princess of Natare, at one time engaged to the High King Peter of Narnia, not named in this story
Geary: a Natarene lord, Lord Commander of the King's Own
Jourdain: a Natarene lord, said to be the best swordsman in Natare
Landrieu: a Natarene lord
Savile: a Natarene lord
the Red Company of Natare: one of the oldest, largest, and most respected mercenary companies in Natare. Various stories abound regarding its foundation; one says that it was founded by the bastard son of a Natarene king, another by the younger son of a Natarene king, yet another by a disgraced Lord Commander of the King's Own. Tradition dictates that birth aside, the captain of the Red Company is always known as the Lord Commander of the Red Company, and that the Lord Commander is always a dedicant of the Trickster. The Company takes a number of officers and soldiers alike from nobleborn younger sons, daughters, and bastards.
Rangers, Runamoks, Group Askew: troops in the Red Company.
Mathin Terblanche: Lord Commander of the Red Company, a Natarene native.
Beka Gervase: an officer in the Red Company, a lieutenant of the Group Askew troop, a Natarene native.
Tabor Courtenay: an officer in the Red Company, a lieutenant of the Runamok troop.
Ysabeau Montegut: an officer in the Red Company, a lieutenant of the Ranger troop, a Natarene native.
Bear, Breakneck, Mayfair, Piper: soldiers in the Red Company, members of the Ranger troop.
Ossian: a noncommissioned officer in the Red Company, a member of the Ranger troop.
Riggins: a soldier in the Red Company, a member of the Runamok troop.
Brieux's Bastards, Galina's Sunslayers, Icolan's Earthshakers, the Thundering Herd, Valeray's Villains: mercenary companies hired by Natare
Narnia
Peter: the High King of Narnia, called Bittersteel, missing for a year and a half
Susan: a queen of Narnia
Edmund: a king of Narnia, called Silvertongue
Lucy: a queen of Narnia
Kaikura: a leopard, second in command of the Narnian Royal Guard, a member of Peter's personal guard
Osumare Seaworth: an admiral of the Royal Narnian Navy, formerly a pirate.
Jaisen Ettore: a landed knight of Narnia, the Bastard of Queensgrace, formerly heir to Lord Landrieu of Natare.
Fiorenza Paolucci: a lady knight of Narnia, formerly of the Empire of Shoushan.
The Whistling Wolf sits on the edge of the Natarene-Narnian border, at the heart of Couer de'Wilde, the last town before Natare turns into Narnia. Like most of the border towns Breakneck's been to -- and the Red Company's been to a lot of border towns -- it mixes freely between both countries; even in the midst of wartime, the border guards of both countries don't bat an eye.
The Whistling Wolf is a three-storey sprawl of a building; by the time Breakneck and the rest of the Rangers get there just before dusk, it's already brightly lit-up, music spilling out the open windows. They hand over their weapons at the door; there's a guarded room just inside the front door filled with long rows of weapons racks. Right now, most of them are full.
"Trickster's balls, Piper," Ossian says as Piper divests himself of his seventh knife, "what are you carrying around in there, an armory?"
Piper holds up one finger and digs around down the front of his pants. Breakneck covers his face with one hand, although he looks out from between his fingers to see Piper pull out a pair of kamagong sticks, one from each leg.
"How in seven hells do you expect to get those out during a fight?" Bear jibes. "Lot of good they do you then, Ranger."
Piper flips him off. "You weren't complaining when I was saving your ass in the ghostwood."
"You need to pat us down?" Ysabeau asks the Wolf guard.
He waves her off. "The Red Company's good for it, Lieutenant. Go on in."
The majority of the Red Company is up on the second floor, although they see Group Askew on the first on their way up, and a couple Runamoks on the stairs.
"Rangers!" Riggins hollers drunkenly as he spots them, waving his mug in the air.
"What took you so damn long, Ysabeau?" Beka shouts. "You didn't get lost and wander into Narnia, start the war early, did you?
A group of fauns in Narnian red and gold over by the pool tables look up and glare in unison. Beka doesn't seem to notice.
"Fuck you, Gervase!" Ysabeau yells back merrily, pulling up an empty chair and waving over a waitress to rattle off their orders.
The Rangers swarm in on a couple of mostly empty tables; the occupants take one look at the approaching merc horde and clear off. Breakneck drops into a chair and veers away from Piper's encircling arm -- "Fuck off, Piper, I know where your hands have been" -- and takes his glass of Narnian whiskey when the waitress come back with their drinks.
Breakneck taste his whiskey. "Damn," he drawls. "That's smooth."
"No one makes better liquor than the Narnians," Ossian says, inhaling his own whiskey. "Glasswater. Seven, that's beautiful. All right, Breakneck, listen and learn. Those are Natarene Army regulars over there, staking out the card tables."
"Green tabard," Breakneck says. "Green and bronze tabards in the northwest corner, King's Own. Valeray's Villains at the southeast tables, Icolan's Earthshakers at the southwest. Narnian Army in the northeast and on the eastern half of the bar. I don't know the others."
"Good to know I can still teach you some things," Ossian snorts.
"The others are nobles," Ysabeau says, glancing over her shoulder. "You stay away from them, kids. I don't want the Captain to have to bail you out. Try not to bring down shame on the Company. We're the Red Company, not Icolan's Earthshakers or Brieux's Bastards."
"Hell, LT, don't worry about us," Bear says. "We're too smart to fuck around with nobles, Natarene, Narnian, or otherwise. And if Breakneck here tries anything, we'll haul him off and talk a little Ranger sense into him."
Ysabeau snorts and turns back to the officers.
"All right, Breakneck," Ossian says, "listen and learn. At the bar, Lords Jourdain and Savile. Saviile's in the red, Jourdain's in the purple. Rumor says Piero's tapped him to fight in the Eschmarnat; he's supposed to be one of the best swordsmen in the country. That's the Lord Commander of the King's Own, Lord Geary, drinking with Jaisen Ettore, the Bastard of Queensgrace. He went over three years ago when Piero declared his mother's marriage invalid in favor of Lord Landrieu's second wife."
"You mean he's Narnian?" Breakneck asks, trying to make sense of that.
"He is now," Mayfair says. "He was Natarene, now he's Narnian, because Peter offered him lands and a title." she pauses, staring over Piper's shoulder. "He might be talking to the Lord Commander, but he's looking at Prince Marcely like he wants to kill him. The Crown Prince had better be damn careful not to go anywhere alone, or Piero might have to find himself a new heir."
"Ettore might have to get in line," Piper says, nodding at the stairs.
Breakneck looks, blinking to see the three sleek great cats that are suddenly on the floor -- two wildcats and a slim, elegant leopard that keeps turning its head from side to side like it's looking for something.
"They let those things in here?" Mayfair asks. She leans back. "Hey, LT, doesn't your uncle own this joint? Do they just let wild animals wander around?"
Ysabeau turns around again. "Those aren't wild animals," she says. "Those are talking animals out of Narnia, and that's the Narnian Royal Guard."
"Shit, is that Silvertongue?" Bear declares, sitting up. "And I was impressed by Marcely being here."
"That is Silvertongue," Ossian says. "And looks like Admiral Osumare Seaworth with him, Trickster knows why, Natare's landlocked, and Lady Fiorenza Paolucci. She's a lady knight who came out of Shoushan," he adds for Breakneck's sake.
He glances over. Seaworth is a stocky man with dark curls and a clever face; Paolucci is a tall, striking woman who walks like she owns the place. "Silvertongue?" he asks, assuming that Silvertongue is the slim, sharp-featured youth with the dark hair, the one who looks around like he's seeing straight into people's souls. He's young. He doesn't seem to be aware of this fact.
"Ten nobles says there's blood on the floor before the night's out," says Piper.
"Silvertongue is King Edmund of Narnia," Ossian explains. "Between him and Marcely -- oh, this could get interesting."
"He's the king of Narnia?" Breakneck says. "In here?"
"A king of Narnia, not the king of Narnia," Mayfair corrects. "That would be his brother Peter, the High King, who's currently missing, which is why we have this lovely job invading his country."
"Move," Paolucci says to the mercs at the table next to the Rangers, and they take one look at the three big cats and clear out without protest, leaving their abandoned seats to the Narnian nobles. "Are you still drinking rum, you old pirate?"
"You know me so well, you Shoushani warhorse," Seaworth replies, "and you know his majesty is going to drink some girly mixed drink --"
"Girly?" King Edmund protests.
"I'll show you girly, Seaworth," Paolucci calls over her shoulder as she heads off to the bar.
Breakneck listens with his half an ear to the rest of his squad's mild bickering, most of his attention on the Narnians or some reason. There's something about King Edmund that draws his eye, and Breakneck doesn't understand it, but there it is. Edmund doesn't look at him, though; he and Seaworth are speaking in low voices, with the occasional addition from one of the two wildcats. The leopard doesn't say anything, just keeps looking around.
Paolucci comes back with their drinks and three bowls for the cats, dropping into her seat and sliding Seaworth's and King Edmund's glasses across the table to them. "Prince Marcely's in here," she reports.
"I've noticed," Edmund says.
"Prince Marcley's coming over here," she adds, glancing over her shoulder.
"Good, we can dispense with all the fancy Nat ritual nonsense and go straight to the war," says Seaworth.
"Ten nobles on Silvertongue," Piper says, and Breakneck jumps; he's nearly forgotten about his squad.
"Where is your patriotism, Ranger?" Mayfair demands. "I'll match you there."
"I'm from Archenland," Piper points out, his voice very dry.
"Ten on Marcely," Bear says. "Silvertongue's not his brother Bittersteel."
"Silvertongue single-handedly conquered the Lone Islands for Narnia," says Ossian. "Ten on him. Breakneck, LT, are you getting in on this?"
Breakneck doesn't answer. Neither does Ysabeau. There's a pool of silence spreading through the room, centered on the Narnians' table and Prince Marcely and his bodyguards. One of the wildcats sits up and growls.
"Back off, Natare," Seaworth says, looking up at Marcely over the rim of his glass. "All we're doing is having a drink."
Marcely ignores him and leans down over the table. "You're going to lose a chunk of your country, Narnia. And one of your sisters, at least. I hope it's Lucy; she looks like she'd be a sweet handful in bed. Susan's the better catch politically, but she's a little too uptight for me, you know what I mean?"
If anyone had said anything like that about one of Breakneck's sisters, prince or not, he'd lay them out, but all Edmund does is sit back and tilt his head to the side. "Oh, Lu's a handful all right," he says. "She might snap you in half if you're not too careful."
"Without your brother, your army's going to be overrun. They're going to fall apart and be slaughtered. Isn't it just too bad that Peter's not here, that he's gone missing --"
Edmund surges to his feet and catches the front of Marcely's tunic in both hands, throwing him down on the table. Glasses go flying as Paolucci and Seaworth shove their chairs back, both reaching for swords that aren't there. Everyone in the room is on their feet, Breakneck and the rest of the Rangers included.
"What the hell did you and your bastard father do to my brother?" Edmund shouts at Marcely. "Everyone in six countries knows you took him, where the hell is he? What did you do?"
Marcely spits at him.
Edmund punches him in the face.
One of the Natarene knights swings at him from behind and Paolucci catches the man's fist, twisting it up behind his back as she slams her knee up into his groin and then his face. It's enough of a distraction that Marcely can kick out at Edmund, knocking him backwards so that the prince can roll off the table and throw himself at the Narnian king.
Chaos.
Natarenes and Narnians rush each other; the mercs throw themselves into the fray as an excuse to avenge personal vendettas or hey, just to fight. Breakneck finds himself trading blows with a big red-haired knight that might be Narnian, might be Natarene he doesn't know and doesn't care. He ducks a Villain with a broken bottle in his fist and hooks a Natarene regular around the ankle, sends him crashing to the floor and spins to block a Bastard's uppercut, catching the woman a low blow in the stomach.
At the heart of the mess are Prince Marcely and King Edmund, hammering away at each other and shouting insults and imprecations, King Edmund screaming about his brother.
Breakneck sees a man in the green and bronze of the King's Own moving in on King Edmund from behind, a broken chair leg clutched in one hand. Some kind of misplaced heroism makes Breakneck shove through the mass of fighting men and women, humans and nonhumans.
"Hey!" he shouts just as Edmund finally knocks Marcely out, and catches the would-be kingslayer a clean right hook across the face. The man growls and swings at him, a little drunkenly, and Breakneck uses his forward momentum to catch his forearm and throw him over his hip, where someone promptly steps on him. He won't be fighting any wars anytime soon, and that means his pay will be docked. Poor bastard. His own damn problem.
Breakneck looks up to see Edmund staring at him like the king's just seen a ghost. "Peter?" he says.
Breakneck stares back at him.
"Peter," Edmund says again, sounding both more desperate and more certain, and starts to move forward toward him.
Breakneck takes an automatic step back. A fighter stumbles into him and he turns to give as good as he got, but the man drops before Breakneck can lay a hand on him.
Ysabeau grabs his arm. "Come on, Ranger, we're getting the hell out of here," she declares, shouting to be heard over the solid roar of sound. "The Red Company's not getting mixed up in this shit!" She drags him forward, using her gauntleted forearms to batter her way to the stairwell, picking up Bear and a Runamok along the way.
Breakneck looks back over his shoulder, where he sees Edmund scream, "Peter!" again as Osumare Seaworth and Jaisen Ettore throw their arms around his shoulders and pull him away, Edmund struggling and fighting to break their holds and get free.
The fight is already spilling down the stairs, though, surprisingly, it hasn't quite reached the first floor; all the drinkers and gamers down here look vaguely surprised by the sounds coming from upstairs, as well as the exodus of men and women with the Red Company badge on their breasts.
"You clowns get your gear and go back to camp," Ysabeau orders, shoving Bear and Breakneck towards the knot of Rangers and the Runamok towards the table Tabor's standing on, bawling for all his fighters.
Ossian's counting them off as they straggle over. "Where's Piper?" he asks. "LT, we don't have Piper!"
"I'll find the rat bastard," Ysabeau says, turning back to the stairs, then freezes as the Captain himself emerges from the stairwell, herding the last Red Company stragglers before him.
"Red Company!" he orders, his clear tenor carrying easily. "Let's leave this circus, shall we?"
There's a ragged chorus of aye, aye, sirs from the officers, a stronger one from the noncoms, and then the two hundred or so Red Company fighters present start streaming towards the door. It takes a long time for them to all get their weapons back, and by then the fighting has spilled down the stairs and into the first floor, Galina's Sunslayers and the Thundering Herd, a heavy cavalry company out of Resi, getting into it with Natarene and Narnian Army regulars just for the hell of it.
The second Breakneck steps outside, his sword a reassuring weight on his back, a bdoy goes crashing through the window to land in the street, almost on top of Bear, who takes a hasty step backwards and then looks down. "Huh," he says.
Mayfair kicks the back of his leg. "Come on, before more of them start falling from the sky. Gods know it's not the Bastards I'd like to suddenly appear on the ground in front of me." She pauses significantly. "Edmund of Narnia, on the other hand...did you see the arse on that man? I'd like to --"
"Hold your tongue, Ranger!" Ysabeau barks.
"Aw, LT, you know you'd like to --"
"Ranger!" She jerks her chin over her shoulder, and they all turn to see the leopard who'd been with King Edmund shoving its way through the crowd, a brilliant splash of black and yellow dun against the dark leather of the Red Company uniforms.
"You!" it barks, its green eyes fixing on Breakneck. He flinches; there's something unnerving about that expression, and more so about hearing a human voice coming out of an animal's mouth. "What in the name of Aslan do you think you're playing at? Do you have any idea how many people are looking for you? Do you realize --"
"Step off, Narnian," Ysabeau snaps, stepping forward and laying her hand on her sword-hilt. "Narnian Royal Guard or not, this is Natare and these are my men, so if you want to talk to one of them you go through me."
"This is none of your business, you Natarene merc bitch," the leopard says dismissively, moving forward smoothly. "Your siblings are going insane, your country has gone insane, Natare's invading and you're fighting for them? Are you thinking straight? Do you even understand what's happening, what you're doing?"
Ossian draws his sword and steps up beside Ysabeau. "My lieutenant just told you that if you want to talk to one of us, you go through her or Lord Commander Terblanche. This is the Red Company of Natare."
The leopard snarls. "This is just another bunch of sellsword scum. He is the High --"
"Kaikura!"
Breakneck jumps at the shout; it's the Narnian lady knight, Fiorenza Paolucci. She steps up beside the leopard and says, "King Edmund wants you; we're going back across the border before Piero finds out and does something stupid."
"He can't actually do something more stupid," the leopard -- Kaikura -- bites off. "I'm not leaving without --"
Paolucci leans down and grabs the ruff of fur around its neck. "The king of Narnia gave you an order, Kaikura."
Bear and Mayfair grab Breakneck's arms and start hauling him away, just as Kaikura yells, "He's not the king of Narnia!" and Lord Commander Mathin Terblanche, the captain of the Red Company, says, "Guardswoman, Lady Paolucci, I'd like you to step away from my soldiers, please."
Back at the camp, Bear produces a flask of Assiano apple brandy and passes it around. "What was that about?"
"Hell if I know," Piper says. "My Narnian's not up to scratch."
"What are you talking about?" Breakneck asks. "It was speaking Eschmoun."
Mayfair gives him an odd look. "No, it wasn't. That was Narnian. Are you telling me you understood it?"
Breakneck shifts uncomfortably on the tent floor. "Why would I understand Narnian?" he asks.
Her expression turns considering. "Seems like that Narnian attack cat was pretty interested in our mystery boy here," she says slyly.
"Can't be," Breakneck says, trying to head this off before it gets any further, "I'm human. I doubt there are so many of them in Narnia that they can misplace one."
"They did misplace the one," Piper says.
"This is true," Ossian says. "The High King's been missing for a year and a half now; that's what Marcely was baiting Silvertongue about."
"I thought Edmund was the king of Narnia," Breakneck says.
"A king, not the king," Osssian corrects. "Two kings, two queens. Bittersteel, High King Peter, he's the one that's been missing."
Ysabeau thrusts the tent flap aside and sticks her head in. "Are you lot still awake? If it's not too much trouble, we have been hired to fight a war here."
"Aye, aye, ma'am," they chorus, scattering for their cots. Breakneck caps Bear's flask and tosses it back to him; Mayfair blows out the lanterns.
"I wonder if you are the High King of Narnia," she whispers as the tent goes dark.
"Don't be ridiculous," Breakneck whispers back.
-
-
"Well, that was very mature," Susan says, thrusting the tent flap aside to come in. She crosses her arms over her chest.
Lucy looks up, pausing as she dabs some kind of poultice on Edmund's black eye, then continues.
"To be fair," Edmund says, "Marcely was asking for it."
"So you hit him?"
"'Hit' is a strong word."
"Edmund," Susan says, rolling her eyes. "You hit the crown prince of Natare and started a riot in the Whistling Wolf! I can't even say barfight, because according to Osumare there were over a thousand people involved and three dozen injuries. No deaths, but that just sounds like luck. Have you completely lost your mind?"
"Are you done?" Edmund asks.
"Excuse me?"
"You're my sister, not my mother, and you certainly don't outrank me. You don't have any right to lecture me, Susan!"
Lucy sits back and starts gathering up her ready-bag of medicines, scrambling a little to recork bottles and screw the caps back onto jars. She keeps her head bowed.
"Any right?" Susan demands. "Yes, Edmund, I am your sister!" And if we weren't already in a war, you would have started one! Even Peter wouldn't be so --"
Edmund's on his feet before he can think about it. "Don't you dare bring Peter into this, Susan! Peter's not here, and I am, and if you'd heard what Marcely was saying --"
Lucy snatches up her bag and makes a beeline for the tent flaps.
"You are a king of Narnia, not a common bar-brawler --"
"Do you even remember where we come from?"
"Edmund," Lucy says.
"-- and it shouldn't matter what he says, because you have to uphold the honor and reputation of this country --"
"We're already at war with them because you threw his sister out of the country, I don't actually see how it can get any worse."
"That's no excuse for --"
"Edmund!" Lucy shouts. "Susan!"
They look over. Fiorenza Paolucci and Kaikura are standing beside Lucy, both looking faintly embarrassed.
"Your majesties," Fiorenza begins, then stops, looking awkward. She's got a black eye and a cut on her cheekbone.
Kaikura, who's been in the Guard for a decade now, has no such reservations. "Have you told them?" she demands, sitting down and curling her tail around her feet.
Edmund hasn't told them, mostly because he hasn't been able to think of a really good way to explain to his sisters that he may have seen his missing brother -- his missing High King -- in the midst of a bar brawl in a foreign country. In a foreign country they happen to be at war with. And because, in the cold, hard light of day, he's not sure it was Peter. Except he knows Peter, he'll always know Peter, and as surely as he knows Susan and Lucy are his sisters, he knows that the blond mercenary in the Whistling Wolf was his brother.
"Told us what?" Susan demands, her voice hard-edged.
"I saw Peter," Edmund says.
Lucy drops her medicine bag.
Glass smashes and shatters on the tent floor, the fragrant scent of roses filling the tent, but nobody moves.
"Saw Peter?" Susan says finally, her voice very small. "In -- in Natare? In the Whistling Wolf?"
Edmund nods.
"Are you sure?" she asks, then runs roughshod over the words. "Then why didn't you bring him home, why didn't you bring him back?" The longing in her voice is sharp and desperate; she clneches on a bow and arrow that aren't there.
Edmund doesn't have a good answer to that, so he looks at Kaikura and Fiorenza instead, hoping they do where he doesn't.
Fiorenza shifts from foot to foot, then gets hold of herself, clasping her hands behind her back and looking straight ahead like she's back in the rank and file of the Emperor's court. "I found him, your majesty. I talked to some of my old friends in the Natarene merc companies, and some of them know who he is. He's part of the Red Company of Natare, under the command of the Lord Commander Mathin Terblanche. He's in a troop called the Rangers; his immediate superior is an officer named Ysabeau Montegut. His name is Breakneck. He has no memory past a year and a half ago."
"Oh, Aslan," Susan says in a rush and sits down in Lucy's abandoned chair, covering her face with her hands.
"I need to --" Bring him home. "-- talk to Terblanche," Edmund says after he lets out a breath he hadn't even known he'd been holding. Thank the Lion, he hadn't imagined it. Peter's really out there, he's really alive. After so long hoping, he hardly dares believe it. Maybe he's bespelled, maybe he's just hurt, but he's there. Alive.
Fiorenza nods. "I don't have connections with the Company, but Jaisen should; they take a lot of their officers from younger sons and daughters and nobleborn bastards --"
Edmund licks his lips. "Tell him to set up the meet. Don't mention Peter -- Breakneck. I want to tlak to Terblanche about what Narnia can offer that Natare can't, if he asks."
"Of course, your majesty," Fiorenza says, painfully correct. Her gaze flicks to Susan, careful and worried.
Susan raises her head from her hands. "Peter," she breathes. "Do you really think --"
"I smell him every time I go over the border," Kaikura says. "I saw him outside the Whistling Wolf, saw him and smelled him, and my nose doesn't lie."
"You almost got into a fight with the entirety of the Red Company," Fiorenza hisses at her.
"Those Nat sellswords have no right to keep me from my High King --" The strain's been wearing on Kaikura more than usual lately, and Edmund can see the beginnings of madness in her big green eyes and unkempt fur. Peter's personal guard or not, that's no excuse for her not using her head.
"Shut up and go make the arrangements," he says softly. Lucy takes the opportunity to flee along with Fiorenza and Kaikura as they leave.
Once the three of them have gone, Edmund's campaign tent seems much smaller. Susan looks up at Edmund with wide, shining eyes. "Peter," she says again. "May Aslan help us, Peter."
Natare: a country on the western border of Narnia.
the King's Own: the King of Natare's personal fighting force, widely considered to be some of the best fighters in Natare
Eschmoun: the language of Natare
the Eschmarnat: a Natarene ritual that precedes any formal fighting in a war, consisting of seven bouts of single combat
the Seven: the seven Natarene gods; the Trickster is one of these
Piero: King of Natare
Marcely: Crown Prince of Natare
Rinee: princess of Natare, at one time engaged to the High King Peter of Narnia, not named in this story
Geary: a Natarene lord, Lord Commander of the King's Own
Jourdain: a Natarene lord, said to be the best swordsman in Natare
Landrieu: a Natarene lord
Savile: a Natarene lord
the Red Company of Natare: one of the oldest, largest, and most respected mercenary companies in Natare. Various stories abound regarding its foundation; one says that it was founded by the bastard son of a Natarene king, another by the younger son of a Natarene king, yet another by a disgraced Lord Commander of the King's Own. Tradition dictates that birth aside, the captain of the Red Company is always known as the Lord Commander of the Red Company, and that the Lord Commander is always a dedicant of the Trickster. The Company takes a number of officers and soldiers alike from nobleborn younger sons, daughters, and bastards.
Rangers, Runamoks, Group Askew: troops in the Red Company.
Mathin Terblanche: Lord Commander of the Red Company, a Natarene native.
Beka Gervase: an officer in the Red Company, a lieutenant of the Group Askew troop, a Natarene native.
Tabor Courtenay: an officer in the Red Company, a lieutenant of the Runamok troop.
Ysabeau Montegut: an officer in the Red Company, a lieutenant of the Ranger troop, a Natarene native.
Bear, Breakneck, Mayfair, Piper: soldiers in the Red Company, members of the Ranger troop.
Ossian: a noncommissioned officer in the Red Company, a member of the Ranger troop.
Riggins: a soldier in the Red Company, a member of the Runamok troop.
Brieux's Bastards, Galina's Sunslayers, Icolan's Earthshakers, the Thundering Herd, Valeray's Villains: mercenary companies hired by Natare
Narnia
Peter: the High King of Narnia, called Bittersteel, missing for a year and a half
Susan: a queen of Narnia
Edmund: a king of Narnia, called Silvertongue
Lucy: a queen of Narnia
Kaikura: a leopard, second in command of the Narnian Royal Guard, a member of Peter's personal guard
Osumare Seaworth: an admiral of the Royal Narnian Navy, formerly a pirate.
Jaisen Ettore: a landed knight of Narnia, the Bastard of Queensgrace, formerly heir to Lord Landrieu of Natare.
Fiorenza Paolucci: a lady knight of Narnia, formerly of the Empire of Shoushan.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 06:35 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 11:37 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 08:31 am (UTC)also, i wish you had a 'search' bar, because i am trying to find your timeline, and failing. grrrrr.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 07:38 pm (UTC)If you go to my main journal page, it's on the sidebar. It's also the only thing on the "warsverse" tag.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 04:07 pm (UTC)And I am ridiculously amused by Edmund drinking girly drinks.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-27 11:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-28 03:55 pm (UTC)(And I'm going to the bookstore tomorrow to buy Lies of Lock Lamora since you keep referencing to it and I want to understand them!!)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-12-28 06:05 pm (UTC)The Lies of Locke Lamora is fabulous, by the way. *beams*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-16 10:26 pm (UTC)I just love how much you've fleshed out the Narnia books; the politics, the war, the alliances, the countries! *hearts*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-17 02:01 am (UTC)