9.
Unexpected Encounter 13: Chapter 9.
Unexpected Encounter 251 AC.
Tyrosh.
Irat Rexarion.
“Any news, commander?” Ross asked as we sat at a table in one of Tyrosh’s inns.
“Nothing yet,” I waved him off and took a sip of wine, watching the patrons.
A whole month had passed since we took the city, and only a week since the functionality of all its structures had been restored.
Which was why we were now lounging in taverns and brothels, spending our loot.
The first days after the nighttime slaughter were the hardest.
There were many people unhappy with the fact that some mercenaries had captured their city, which led to unrest.
The peaceful residents even attempted to poison us, but fortunately, it didn’t lead to heavy losses.
All we had to do was forbid the fighters from accepting anything from the residents’ hands.
I could only stare in amazement at everything happening and wonder: “Did Maelis really think they’d welcome us with open arms here?” Whether by fate or pure chance, the tension gradually began to subside when the common folk realized that Blackfyre wasn’t going to change their way of life, and that in the end, nothing would really change for them.
The first to understand this were the merchants who happened to be in the city at the time, and other businessmen like the owners of inns and brothels.
Our unit, which had suffered the heaviest losses, found itself with nothing to do, which allowed me to calmly observe what was happening and draw conclusions.
“Seven hells,” Ross swore, downing the contents of his mug in one gulp.
I just gave him a knowing smirk.
A similar mood was prevalent among everyone in my now-established squad.
Many fighters were dissatisfied that our unit had taken the heaviest losses.
Now everyone was tense, waiting to see what would happen next, and secretly hoping the command would be reasonable enough not to send us back into battle without giving us time to recover.
Otherwise, it could lead to disastrous consequences for the company, which for us would be tantamount to death.
I wasn’t too worried about the possible future, knowing that leaving the mercenary ranks at any moment wouldn’t be a problem for me.
Even if I had to fight my way out.
But one thing I knew for sure: such an outcome was unlikely, because in the near future, until our unit’s junior command staff was restored, they wouldn’t throw us into battle.
At least, that’s what the Joker told me when he appointed me decanus, after a long conversation with Ross, who was the first candidate for the position.
So the captain wasn’t in a hurry, thereby giving us time to build up our strength.
I was among the first to be appointed decanus, which gave me time to better organize my subordinates’ work.
I even had to send Rob and John secretly to look for promising young men from among Tyrosh’s residents who might want to join our ranks.
Unfortunately, this hadn’t yielded any results yet, but even one person joining us would significantly improve our position.
Of course, I could try to focus on more experienced people who at least knew how to handle a sword.
But everything was complicated by the fact that such individuals were often older than me, and it would be hard for them to accept a snot-nosed kid as their commander.
So it was decided to focus on the young, while the old members of the squad, who knew what I was capable of, would serve as senior comrades and mentors for them.
“But first, we still need to find those enthusiastic youths,” I thought with frustration, squeezing my mug tightly while trying not to bend it.
“I’m going for a walk,” I told the big man, getting up from the table.
“Tell our people we have an early start tomorrow.
Enough slacking off, especially John and Rob.
Their wounds healed long ago.
So we’re having a training session.” Ross nodded understandingly in response, but I didn’t miss how he winced at the mention of training.
It was a shame to disappoint him, but the amount of training would only increase.
I didn’t know how they’d managed to survive until recently, but if my fragmented knowledge of the future was correct, teamwork alone wouldn’t be enough in the future.
Personal strength played a significant role in survival.
I myself hadn’t been idle either.
All this time of calm, I dedicated to my own development, first trying to figure out the surges of power after killing.
To do this, I had to conduct a series of experiments, catching various people at night who were unlucky enough to cross my path.
This way, I was able to determine that to trigger the sensation, there needed to be contact with the weapon I used to take a life.
However, I didn’t give up on ranged combat after that.
Killing with gravity counted too, though the surge of power after that was ten times weaker.
I also discovered that I was absorbing something like residual life force.
This idea came to me when my victim was an old man.
The surge from his death was significantly weaker.
After I started testing this theory, my list of victims grew considerably, and rumors of missing people began to circulate among the populace during the day.
I had to stop my experiments to avoid attracting unwanted attention.
Besides, by that point I’d already found out everything I wanted and come to a certain conclusion: the stronger the victim, the greater the surge of power from their death.
I didn’t forget about developing my other skills either.
Control over gravity improved day by day.
Constant sword exercises were supplemented by occasional training with a spear, as a more common weapon.
Occasionally, I managed to persuade the sergeant to have a few sparring sessions with me, which were a personal challenge.
I tried everything to defeat Aastaar without using my abilities, but so far I’d only managed to draw the fight, which greatly surprised him.
Every time this happened, he’d grumble about damned Valyrians blessed by either gods or demons.
A draw with the sergeant could be a source of pride for any regular fighter.
But I understood perfectly well that the Joker, though a very experienced warrior, wasn’t the best.
The same Captain Laar, according to Aastaar himself, was significantly superior to him.
Not to mention other individuals I might encounter in this world.
The noise of a drunken brawl starting up snapped me out of my thoughts.
Turning my head toward the troublemakers, I saw a burly man, no smaller than Ross, bashing his opponent’s head against a table.
I just smirked at the sight, quickly losing interest, and continued on my way.
At the exit, I had to squeeze between tables, sometimes outright shoving people blocking my way, until I finally reached my goal.
As soon as I opened the door and left that hospitable establishment, the smell of the night city hit my nose, occasionally overpowered by the fresh sea breeze.
After the stuffiness of the tavern’s common room, filled with the smells of roasted meat and alcohol, the fresh air felt completely different.
Walking through the night city, I made my way toward a small secluded lot near the port.
It was very convenient for my sword and spear training.
Today I planned to do some serious work with polearms, since starting tomorrow this lot would no longer be my personal training ground.
I planned to bring my entire squad there.
Tyrosh was unusually quiet, which contrasted sharply with what the city was like during the day.
The hum of voices and constant movement had been replaced by silence, broken only by the sound of my footsteps and…
faint crying?
Listening to the sound, I realized it was coming from one of the dark alleys.
My first instinct was to just walk past, but curiosity got the better of me, and I moved toward the sound.
The main streets branched into many narrow alleys and dark lanes that formed a whimsical labyrinth.
The situation was made worse by the old stone houses looming overhead, blocking out the moonlight, creating perfect conditions for shady characters to roam.
“At least while I was conducting my experiments, this worked in my favor,” I thought inwardly, stepping into the darkness of one such “branch.” I had to stop for a few moments to let my eyes adjust to the darkness before moving on.
And what was my surprise when, in the dim moonlight, I saw three unfamiliar Golden Company mercenaries.
One of them stood with his pants down, making characteristic thrusting motions.
Looking closer, I could see a pair of thin bare legs behind him moving in time with his thrusts.
Two other mercenaries stood on either side of the naked one.
Judging by their hastily pulled-up pants, they’d already finished their business and were now grinning, watching the ongoing rape.
A little ways from them sat a small boy, huddled in a corner, shaking with fear and whimpering softly.
It was his crying I’d heard.
Willingly or not, what I saw stirred up some unpleasant memories.
A flame of anger began to kindle inside me, but I kept myself under control.
“What an entertaining sight,” I said deliberately loudly, in a mocking tone, leaning against the wall of the building.
“The famous Golden Company doesn’t have enough money to buy even the cheapest whore?” The sound of my voice drew the attention of the rapists.
The naked one hastily began pulling up his pants while his buddies turned toward me with clearly hostile intentions.
“Who the hell are you…” one of the mercenaries began to say, but abruptly fell silent from the weight that descended on their shoulders.
“Quiet,” I clicked my tongue, approaching them slowly and gradually increasing the gravity.
By the time I reached them, the three were already on their knees.
The horrific scene was now fully revealed to me: the almost completely naked body of a teenage girl lay on a barrel.
She was badly beaten.
Almost every visible part of her body was covered in bruises and abrasions.
Her lip was split, and her eye was swollen.
Moving closer, I noticed a thin trickle of blood slowly running down the side of the barrel, trailing from her head.
The girl wasn’t breathing.
“And what am I going to do with you?” I asked rhetorically, trying to push away the unpleasant memories.
“Actually…” Without finishing, I sharply increased the pressure.
A disgusting wet sound of tearing flesh was heard, and once-strong, healthy men turned into a bloody pulp of flesh and shattered bones.
Enjoying the familiar sensation of a surge of life force, I turned my attention to the boy, who was staring at me with wide eyes.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he was still shaking with fear.
Looking at this unwilling witness, I asked myself: “What am I going to do with him?” Unable to resist, I walked over to the boy and, sighing heavily, crouched in front of him.
The boy flinched away and pressed himself even harder into his corner.
“Ha,” I exhaled, lowering my head.
“I’ve never had to calm a child before.” Looking at the frightened boy again, I tried to make my face as friendly as possible and sat so he couldn’t see the mess behind me.
“Calm down, it’s alright,” I said with a warm smile, trying to win the boy over.
“No one’s going to hurt you.” Remembering how my mother used to calm the “weakling,” I tried a similar approach.
Not immediately, but gradually the boy’s breathing evened out.
He stopped shaking and pressing himself into the corner of the building.
Eventually, he began looking at me more consciously, only occasionally sniffling.
All this time, I was also examining the child.
He looked about ten years old.
He was slightly chubby, despite his poor clothes, which clearly indicated a tendency toward heaviness.
His facial features were slightly refined.
A small nose and a small mouth with thin lips fit together very harmoniously.
All this, combined with his plumpness, made him somewhat feminine.
“How did you end up here, boy?” I finally decided to ask the question that was bothering me, while maintaining my friendly tone.
The boy leaned forward slightly to look behind me, then quickly returned to his previous position, turning very pale.
“They grabbed us, me and Nyssa, sir,” came the quiet reply.
“When we were going back to our master.” “Your master, huh,” I said thoughtfully.
“Slaves?” “Yes, sir,” the boy answered, lowering his gaze.
Hearing his confirmation, I thought about what to do next.
If the boy brought news of the slave girl’s death, he’d be beaten at the very least.
It all depended on the master’s kindness.
Then, if the master was wealthy, there could be trouble with the company.
The chances of him getting any compensation were zero, but it would let the command know that I’d killed members of the company.
I wanted to avoid that.
Only one solution came to mind.
“Come on,” I said, standing up.
“Take me to your master.” “B-but…” the boy stammered, but seeing I was still waiting, quickly scrambled to his feet.
“Yes, sir.” Leaving the dark alley, I threw one last glance at the result of my actions.
The picture was horrifying.
Whoever found those bodies would lose their appetite for the next day.
“What does your master do?” I asked the boy as we walked through the city.
“Ah, well…” the boy hesitated.
“We’re a traveling acting troupe…” I just smirked.
My young companion’s words put me at ease.
There shouldn’t be any problems.
“What’s your name, boy?” I asked with a grin.
But the answer I received was not what I expected.
As soon as I heard it, I stumbled from surprise.
“Varus, sir,” the boy replied in the same manner, not noticing the way I was looking at him.
Words couldn’t describe the effort I put into keeping a straight face.
Though my knowledge of the world was fragmented, even that was enough to understand what kind of person fate had brought me to today.
My original plan immediately underwent many changes.
My primary goal now was to win the boy over at any cost.
“Let’s hurry,” I urged, quickening my pace.
“Tell me on the way what life is like with your master.”