4.
Welcome to the Company 5: Chapter 4.
Welcome to the Company 251 AC, Lys.
Irat Rexarion.
Waking up was not easy.
The darkness clouding my consciousness slowly receded, giving way to irritation from a shaft of sunlight trying to pierce through my tightly shut eyelids.
The awareness that something was wrong forced me to open my eyes, though with considerable effort.
Bright light slashed at them, making me reflexively squeeze them shut again.
I waited a moment, then slowly raised my lids, letting my eyes adjust to the light.
This attempt was more successful than the last, though my eyes still watered from the harsh brightness.
The first thing I felt when I began to pay attention to myself was pain.
My head throbbed worst of all, pounding as if a blacksmith’s hammer had been at work on it the night before.
“Ah, right,” I thought as memories of the cause of my headache surfaced.
“That really was an idiotic plan.” The last mercenary had proven not only physically strong but also quite skilled.
His well-executed throw had caught me off guard.
I’d had to rely on my powers and natural agility to avoid injury.
What followed could only be described as a beating.
I don’t claim to be a master of hand-to-hand combat, but growing up from birth in the lowest rungs of society among whores, thieves, and beggars, constantly fighting, had forced me to at least know how to defend myself.
Add to that my natural gifts—above-average height and considerable physical strength, enhanced further by constant training—and I was a dangerous opponent.
As practice had shown, it still wasn’t enough.
“You’re awake, young man?” I heard a dry voice.
Turning my head toward the source, I saw a stocky man.
It was hard to gauge his age, but his gray-streaked hair marked him as someone who had seen much.
His eyes matched his hair, just as gray, with a piercing gaze.
He wore loose gray robes that contrasted sharply with the bright, elaborate outfits so beloved in Lys.
He stood bent over a table, sorting through various vials and instruments, carefully packing them into a bag.
“Where am I?” I asked, my voice hoarse from a dry throat.
While waiting for an answer, I began examining the room I was in.
It was a simple but not very spacious chamber, typical of mid-range inns.
“You, young man, are in my room,” the man said sarcastically, fixing me with his unsettling gray eyes.
“You were brought here and told to tend to your wounds.
Fortunately, nothing serious, just a few scrapes.
So I hope, young man, that you will vacate my bed as soon as possible so I can finally get some rest.” “I’m sorry,” I said quietly, trying to sit up.
As I attempted to rise, a sharp pain twisted through my ribs.
I couldn’t help but hiss through my teeth, which caught the healer’s attention.
“‘Nothing serious,’ you say?” I asked through gritted teeth, doubled over and clutching my ribs.
It felt like while I was being carried here, the offended soldiers had repeatedly dropped and kicked me.
Because I didn’t remember taking any hits to the ribs from anyone.
Unless it was my last opponent, but that could only have happened after I’d lost consciousness.
“Just a bruise,” he said flatly.
“No need to be so dramatic.” I slowly straightened up, gradually adjusting to the unpleasant sensation.
When I managed it, I took a deep breath, listening to the feeling in my ribs.
I knew that with broken or cracked ribs, even simple breathing causes terrible pain, let alone movement.
But it seemed the healer was right, and it really was just a bruise, I could breathe normally.
“Where are my things?” I asked, swallowing to moisten my dry throat with saliva.
“When you were brought in,” the man said without looking up from his task, “you had no belongings with you.” Anger at myself for not anticipating this outcome washed over me.
I had to quickly get a hold of myself before my rage made me start smashing everything around me.
“Damn it,” I cursed quietly, clenching my fists.
“That’s life, young man,” the healer said with a faint smirk.
“In our world, even your closest friend is ready to stick a knife in your back.
Consider losing your possessions the price of your life.” “Some philosopher,” I thought, glaring at him from under my brow.
Suddenly the door opened, and a member of the Golden Company entered, judging by his familiar attire.
A broad-shouldered young man of about twenty with a thick mop of chestnut hair.
He quickly scanned the room and fixed his gaze on me.
“Oh, you’re awake,” he said with a hint of surprise.
“Maester Irving, can I take him?” “Seven hells, I haven’t been a maester for a long time,” Irving said, grimacing.
“And you all know that perfectly well.
Take him and get out, both of you.” The young man nodded at the former maester and, turning to me, said in a commanding tone: “Follow me.
The captain ordered me to bring you.” With no other choice, I had to follow the “order.” Otherwise, it would have meant I’d begged to join the company for nothing.
We soon descended from the second floor to the common room.
This time it was rather empty, which was strange.
“Where is everyone?” I asked my escort.
“What?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.
“I said, where is everyone?” I repeated, gesturing at the common room.
“Last time it was packed in here.” “Oh, them,” he chuckled at something.
“A hundred of them are in the port.
Guarding our ships out of turn.” He laughed, as if he’d said something funny, but I didn’t understand the joke.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“And why ‘them’?” “Them because I’m from a different hundred,” my escort explained once he’d stopped laughing.
“And it’s funny because they lost their leave, and their next one won’t be until after the next contract.” The mercenary chuckled again and fell silent.
We left the inn and walked in silence through streets that were painfully familiar to me.
I was thinking about what awaited me.
I’d never feared much in my life, always confident I could survive somehow.
“I don’t envy you, kid,” my escort suddenly said.
“Why not?” I asked, confused.
He didn’t answer until we reached the entrance to one of the elite brothels.
He stopped abruptly and turned to face me.
“I don’t know how you managed to take down the men from Silent’s hundred,” he said quietly, but loud enough for me to hear clearly.
“But pray to whatever gods you believe in that the captain doesn’t assign you to them.
Because they’re furious about losing their leave.” “I’ll keep that in mind,” I smiled at his warning.
If anything, being assigned to that same hundred would be more entertaining.
Where else would I find so many free punching bags?
I was sure that even if I ended up elsewhere, they’d want payback.
“Let’s go,” my companion said, pushing open the brothel’s doors.
Inside, the familiar realm of debauchery and sin greeted us.
Some guests were embracing whores, holding out goblets for more wine.
Others were indulging in carnal pleasures right out in the open, while the rest simply drank and watched.
But the moment we crossed the threshold, dozens of eyes locked onto us, scrutinizing us as if searching for a threat.
Unlike the regular soldiers I’d fought, every man present radiated danger.
I felt like prey before a pack of starving wolves.
Strong, experienced, and most importantly, dangerous warriors all gathered in one place.
My confidence that I could survive a confrontation with all of them at once evaporated instantly.
“What are you gawking at?” a massive brute bellowed, currently wrapped in the arms of three beauties.
“Report!
What’s your business here?” My escort nervously swallowed.
“By the captain’s orders,” he began uncertainly.
“I was told to bring the recruit.” “What orders?” the brute growled, furrowing his brow.
“What the…” He was interrupted by a lazy voice.
“Calm down, Thorn,” said a familiar mercenary, one of those who’d come with the captain.
“The captain really did order us to bring the ‘meat.'” The man had long dark hair tied back in a tail and a thin, elongated face.
His eyes formed a perpetual sly squint.
A crooked grin completed the picture.
“Why wasn’t I informed?” Thorn asked his brother-in-arms.
“Because you didn’t come with us yesterday,” his companion grinned.
“And you missed out, I tell you.
This brat put a pretty good beating on Silent’s men.
Isn’t that right, John?” “Right, right,” the second familiar mercenary said quietly, the one who’d actually knocked me out.
He was the complete opposite of his comrade.
A wide jaw, a prominent chin, massive cheekbones, these features combined to make his face square.
His heavy brows over deep-set eyes gave him a perpetually grim expression.
While these three mercenaries exchanged words, the others returned to whatever they’d been doing before we interrupted them.
Seeing no threat in us, they lost interest.
Once they heard I was just a recruit, they stopped caring entirely.
“Alright, come on, ‘meat,'” the “sly one” said, extricating himself from the women’s embraces.
“I’ll take you to the captain.
And you can go.” The last comment was directed at my escort, who was more than happy to leave the company of his “superiors.” “Yes, sir,” he barked and hurried toward the exit.
I followed my new guide.
By the time we reached the staircase leading to the second floor, I heard the brute’s loud voice behind us.
“Spill it, John,” he said with indignation and a hint of hurt.
“What happened yesterday?
And why wasn’t I told anything?” His outburst drew a chuckle from my escort.
“Now Silent won’t be able to avoid telling everyone how he got his face smashed in,” the mercenary said with clear amusement.
We continued down the second-floor corridor toward the only open door, from which cheerful female laughter spilled.
As we approached the entrance, three naked women burst out, clutching their clothes.
They gave us an interested look, giggled, and hurried away.
My guide watched the naked backsides with a grin before entering the room, knocking on the doorframe.
“Hey, Captain,” he called out in a familiar, somewhat overly casual tone.
“I brought the ‘meat,’ as you ordered.” “Send him in,” came the already familiar voice.
The guide stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter.
The room wasn’t much different from similar chambers in other brothels.
The same enormous bed, large enough for multiple people.
Countless pillows scattered everywhere, allowing for comfortable pleasure without ever reaching the bed.
The only difference from the brothels I’d seen was the greater amount of luxury.
The captain himself stood at a table, pouring ruby-red liquid into his goblet.
He was stripped to the waist.
His physique was fit and lean, with a narrow waist.
He didn’t look like a powerful warrior, more like a swift one.
When he turned, I got a better look at his features.
He looked like a typical Lyseni: light, long hair, delicate, even feminine features.
I wouldn’t be surprised if people often mistook him for a woman.
“Ah, our brawler from yesterday,” he said with feigned cheer, taking a large gulp from his goblet.
“You’ve managed to interest me, Valyrian.” I didn’t deem his comment worth a response.
“Ha, would you look at that,” my guide’s voice came from behind me.
“He hasn’t even officially joined the company yet, and he’s already got a nickname.” “Astar, why are you still here?” the captain asked, surprised.
“Come on, Captain,” Astar replied.
“I’m just curious.
Besides, I’m still hoping you’ll assign the kid to my hundred.” The captain fixed his subordinate with a piercing look.
“First, I want to hear what our recruit has to say,” he finally said, allowing my companion to stay.
He raised the goblet to his lips and drained it, then set the empty vessel on the table.
“Do you know, Valyrian, that unlike other companies, we have recruiters in every Free City?” the captain asked, making me feel like an idiot.
“You don’t have to answer, I can see on your face that you didn’t know until now.” I really hadn’t known, but that was no excuse.
Nothing had stopped me from asking around the city about someone like a Golden Company recruiter who surely must have been known.
Probably the fault of rigid thinking and limited knowledge of the world.
I’d gotten used to how small mercenary bands recruited and had assumed the Golden Company worked the same way.
“But what a show he put on, Captain,” Astar said cheerfully.
“Indeed, it was something to watch,” the captain agreed, smirking.
“At any rate, he can certainly throw a punch.
What about a sword?” “Nothing,” I answered.
“I’ve never had to use one.” “But you have one,” he said with suspicion and some amusement, nodding toward a corner of the room.
Following his gaze, I saw my bag with my few belongings.
The sword was propped against the wall nearby.
Only the dagger was missing, but it might have been inside the bag.
“A trophy,” I answered curtly, not lying.
“Is that so?” the captain said, his interest clearly piqued.
“And will anyone come looking for this ‘trophy’ later?” “Dead men don’t walk,” I joked, smirking at the irony of the words.
A moment later, the room filled with the laughter of two mercenaries who clearly enjoyed my joke.
“Hey, Captain,” Astar said after recovering, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Now you absolutely have to assign him to my hundred.
Or I’ll be offended.” “Fine, fine, you’ve convinced me,” he waved off his subordinate like an annoying fly.
“Alright, kid, welcome to the ranks.
You know your sergeant now, and he’ll explain the rest.” At these words, Astar, now my sergeant, grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.
“Now get out of here,” the captain said with a long yawn.
My sergeant grabbed my belongings and led me out of the captain’s room so he could rest after what was clearly a sleepless night.
“Oh, Valyrian,” the captain called out as I was already at the door.
“What’s your name anyway?” “Irat,” I answered shortly.
“And your surname?” the Lyseni inquired.
“What use is a surname that means nothing to you?” “I’m curious,” the captain smiled.
“Rexarion,” I finally said.
“Irat Rexarion.”