Waiting for Spring - Part I

Chapter Six

Strength comes from three virtues all men shall know, unity, number and honour

And so kings and queens alike shall kneel before us, we, the many, the Legion.

-Mural in Darkstar Tower throne room, Woodrow.

Davin paced back and forth on the mustard cobblestone on Beryl Plaza. It was deserted. The everyday life of the inhabitants of Northernbeck seemed to have disappeared through the ground. The morning breeze found its way around the alabaster houses and left the square eerie. Where is everyone? And where is he...

Davin glanced across the marketplace. The hanged men from yesterday were still dangling in their ropes and the flies were yet to find them. A sign of the cold. The windows on the nearby houses had their curtains shut.

Impatience crept onto the well-armoured man and his pacing increased, the taping of his boots echoed into the morning mist. He fingered the sword resting in the scabbard at his belt. The hilt and pommel was so tender to his bare fingertips. It was the sword that had served him for so long, slain so many foes. However, no blood was to be spilled today unless necessary.

Many young men and women wandered the way of the mercenary, all blinded by silver and fame. Most died young, and those who didn't soon realised that blooded silver wore on the conscience. The fame was no solace.

Time passed by and finally a rather short man, followed by a Legion soldier in full armour and a spear in his right hand, came walking down Ruby Street. They were hard to make out through the haze, but the red flag on the spear could not be mistaken for anything else. Davin sheathed his dagger and pulled his cloak, hiding the blade behind tarnished fabric. One cannot be too safe.

The short man was well dressed, a fine linen shirt and a pair of exquisite pants. He did not wear boots, but instead a pair of low, black, glossy shoes. Davin did not find it strange. One could only assume that a Legion lapdog had to show off in some way or another. The guard behind him appeared anxious, his step hesitant and his look concerned. He probably clenched his spear with an iron grip.

"Davin!" the short man shouted with a neutral voice while coming closer. He halted only steps away from the mercenary and smirked. His bodyguard stayed put a few feet behind, looking around anxiously as if he had walked into an ambush. Davin did not blame him. Most mercenaries were not to be trusted. Davin did not, however, consider himself as dishonourable.

"I am Glen. Governor of Northernbeck, as you may know already." His constant smirking was bothersome. Davin put his hand up as to stop him from saying or going anywhere further.

"I know who you are. There is no need for courtesy. I am not of royal blood," he said with a grave voice and lowered his hand.

"Very well. You probably know why you are here then, why I called you here."

"Yes. And you must know that this is something that I consider waste of time," Davin growled.

"Let us get to the point then. Am I correct to assume that the rest of your men are absent?"

There was something special with Glen's voice. It was as if he talked to a servant. Maybe that's what happened to the men who fell into the life of luxury.

"They are."

"Good. I am here to give you an offer since you ignored my last one..."

"I take orders from no one, especially not you," Davin broke in.

"This is not my orders, it's theirs." Glen was still calm.

"Pure lies, all of it. Woodrow have an army. No one is forced to join the Legion. Since when did the council decide to hire mercenaries to do their dirty work? Eh?" Davin was angered.