Blessings of Faith Pt. 01

The Silver Wolves

Celeste's every breath burned like fire, each gasp bringing a sharp pain from her chest. She groaned as she tried to sit up, clenching her teeth to keep from screaming. Her right hand, drenched with blood, gingerly felt her right side. It was partially caved in just below her breast, the leather armor only being able to absorb so much impact before the rest had crushed her ribs.

Celeste was lying slumped against a rock, surrounded by the dead. A pained and muffled scream caught her attention as her head rolled to her left to see Miles sitting nearly beside her, pulling a tourniquet above her right knee, staunching the blood flow from where his right leg used to be. He slumped against the same rock, fighting unconsciousness, absently running his hand over the scar above his heart. She chuckled weakly, remembering his disastrous first mission where he got it, and how he always rubbed it when he thought no one was looking.

"Told you this was a bad idea," Celeste gasped. Even death wouldn't keep her from being snarky.

A chuckle that led into a pained groan came from Miles.

"I got something to tell you." she wheezed, feeling herself slowly sliding down the rock.

"Fuck off."

"Fuck you, you're going to hear it."

She slapped at him with her left hand with what little strength she had left in it, landing it on his right thigh, causing him to spit curses.

"Shut the fuck up rook." She groaned again, swallowing heavily, "I always liked you; you know? You were just too chickenshit to do anything about it." She grinned at him, blood on her lips crimson, "I woulda fucked you good."

"Fuck off, you could have done something about that yourself."

Celeste chuckled weakly, groaning again in pain, "What can I say, I'm kind of a bitch like that." She was having a hard time focusing, "just, just promise me, you'll take me home, Miles." Her voice broke, "Please."

She felt his hand grasp hers and squeeze hard, "Yeah. You'll have to show me the sights."

A small smile played across her face as the darkness closed around her, "Sure, that sounds nice."

Miles leaned over to check her, when the rock they had been hiding behind exploded, tossing them through the air to land a dozen meters away. He gasped in pain as he reoriented himself, looking around for Celeste, but he had lost her in the sea of corpses.

Miles turned his attention to another thundering explosion, seeing an armored giant of a man slamming into the ground, driving his spear with both hands onto his prone target, roaring with rage. A shuddering scream emanated from below him as the writhing form of a corrupted and twisted being thrashed in the rubble. A charred and mauled claw shattered the golden spear as if it were made of paper and the form lashed out at the man's exposed legs, tearing through his armor, flesh and bone with ease, driving him to his knees as another claw pierced the golden lion emblazoned on his armor into his chest.

The man spat blood through clenched teeth, driving the remaining shattered haft of his spear down into the creature's heart, fully falling onto her wretched form, seeing her gold irises burn with hatred as her claws searched for his heart.

The creature gave out a tired feminine chuckle, "Good try, but it won't help you." A sphere of light began to form over them, emitting a keening noise that slowly rose in pitch. She smiled victoriously at him, "I'll see you next time."

His left hand jammed a vial into her mouth as she gloated and then slugged her as hard as he could with the other, shattering the fragile glass. Her body suddenly seized as burning light shot from mouth, eyes and nose that enveloped them both in a bright blaze, forcing Miles to turn away. He could hear her savage scream tear through his skull, its pitch rising as the light blazed brighter, clawing at his very soul.

The keening sound continued to build as the light faded and Miles saw their two unmoving forms locked in their final struggle. General Lasitus, first sword of the empire, leader of the allied forces, lay silent, glaring in a final moment of hatred as blood dripped from his still lips.

Miles held his breath, afraid that the twisted form of Quinxia, the Queen of Devotion, would suddenly move again, that mankind's final attempt had failed, but she remained frozen in silent repose, her face twisted in grotesque agony. Miles finally exhaled with a nervous laugh that turned into a bitter sob. So many people, so many friends lay dead because of her, and yet here he was, the final witness to her demise.

Suddenly, the sound stopped, and the floating orb of light throbbed above the two bodies. It hovered for a moment, and then shot into the chest of Quinxia, where it shone and pulsed brightly. Panic gripped Miles as he surged forward on his elbows, trying to cross the distance between them, afraid that whatever she had cast would revive her. He pulled his knife as he slipped and used it to pull himself along the ground faster. The light suddenly left her body and then shot into Lasitus where it shone and pulsed brightly as well.

Miles continued to drag himself to the bodies, closing the gap, determined to stop whatever was happening, though he had no idea how. He had no magic, no spells, nothing to disrupt it with. "Let's see you revive after I burn you to ashes you bitch," he spat fiercely, drawing ever closer.

He never got the chance though, as the light ponderously left Lasitus and instead shot directly at him. Miles never even had a chance to dodge.

***

A flash of pain bloomed in his right temple and a ringing resounded through his head as Miles stumbled, trying to remain upright on his two feet. He still had two feet; he was sure of it. He shook his head, trying to get an alien image of some titanic battle out of his mind.

"What did I tell you rook, keep your sword up. The shield blocks your view if you hold it like that."

Miles regained his footing, shaking his head to clear his vision. Celeste was standing in front of him, clad in light leathers, wooden training sword in her right hand.

"Best keep that shield ready rook, or you'll get your head rung again." She launched herself forward with an overhead strike that Miles moved to parry. Rather, he wanted to parry it, and had every intention to, but his body didn't move in that direction. It instead took a step forward and shield-bashed her, knocking her off balance and deflecting her strike. She landed face first on the ground.

"Looks like the rook's got some moves girly," Harun, one of the spectators, guffawed.

"Fuck me, did I telegraph that spin kick?" Celeste was dusting herself off, flipping the finger to the old merc.

A moment of doubt ran through his mind. Had he been in control? Miles shook it off. "You have a tendency to use that feint when you think you've rattled someone and they're on the defensive." Miles smiled from behind the shield, not dropping it in case she tried anything.

"Really put me on my ass there."

"Tits, I was checking out that ass while you were down there," he grinned and braced himself. He stepped back with his right foot and pivoted his body to the right to block her backhanded sword slash with his own blade and then braced as he received her spin kick to the shield. He didn't even need to see it to know it was coming. He dropped low and thrust his sword out as he flicked his shield up and to the left, catching her overhead sword strike and deflecting it while striking her in the solar plexus.

Celeste gasped as she doubled over, falling to the ground kneeling. The wood swords didn't have points, but they still hurt like hell.

Miles tapped the sword on her shoulder casually, and he received back a middle finger and more gasping. He chuckled and stuck the sword in his belt.

"I think that's my first time ever landing a blow on you. How about we stop before you beat me to death?" He offered a hand, which she grasped, pulling herself to his chest. She was breathing more steadily now, pressing on him with a flirtatious grin on her lips.

"It wouldn't be to death rook, just until you're black and blue." She winked at him, pushing herself away softly and picked up her sword, letting him get a good look at her leather clad ass again.

Miles walked to the edge of the ring and dropped off the shield and sword with Harun, the Silver Wolves' quartermaster; a middle-aged blacksmith turned mercenary. "Nice moves rook. Soon enough we'll be able to let you go without a chaperon." He slapped him on the shoulder as he racked the equipment.

Austin, the mercenary leader, stepped up to Celeste as she stretched her arms. "Going easy on him isn't going to do him any favors in the long run." He glanced at the young man talking with Harun. "I want to make sure he's ready and not just feeling ready."

"There wasn't anything easy about today. You saw it, knocked me down twice." Celeste was still rubbing where Miles had struck her. "Rook's got talent and can take a beating. He's ready. Helen's likely told you the same."

Austin grunted before turning to the camp. The man liked to play up the grizzled merc bit, which he did well with the rough scar running down the side of his face, but he always looked out for his people. He had seen far too many young kids head to the battlefield thinking they were ready, and he wasn't going to add to that body count.

Helen had been watching the exchange, arms crossed casually, further up the hill. Austin walked by her and said something before heading back. Helen turned to follow him after giving Celeste an approving nod. Stoic as always.

Celeste tossed her sword to Miles and then cocked her head towards the camp. Miles handed it to Harun and then moved to follow her, trying to shake a weird sense of déjà vu. He had only been with the group for a few months now, but it felt like they had been together for a lifetime; or even two.

He had joined the Silver Wolves right out of the academy. He had befriended Dylan, the co-founder, while working as a scribe for additional coins. Dylan had asked if he could do contracts as well and found that Miles had a good head for details and had saved them more than a few coins by catching unusually worded clauses. The fact that Miles was also an academy swordsman in training only sweetened the deal, and Dylan had made sure to recommend him to the group leader, Austin.

Miles had mixed feelings about the academy. It was a great place to learn, but class segregation between nobles and commoners had made his life hell for years. He learned a lot about theory, society, politics, history, and how to fight like an honorable lord, but he never got the real experience that he felt he needed. Too much ceremony, not enough practical application. Joining the Wolves allowed him to learn first-hand what it was really like to fight and survive. The academy had taught him the basics and forms, but real experience always trumps theory.

Miles caught up with the feisty red-head and walked with her to the main camp. The mercenary group was quite small, only having six members, but they had been together for years, securing some pretty impressive contracts. Celeste wasn't part of the original three, which were Austin, Dylan, and Helen, but had joined them soon after the group formed. Most of their work was trade-route escort missions, with a few monster hunting expeditions or force augmentation for some noble.

"So, what do you think rook? Think you can handle a mission?" Celeste gave him a grin as they approached the campfire. Allen was manning the cauldron. "Can't be a rook forever."

"Hell yeah, I'm getting sick and tired of you all calling me that." Miles grumbled as he picked up a bowl.

Allen looked up at him. "Wait till you get your first kill, then maybe we'll remember your name," he teased, giving him a generous dollop of what Miles hoped was stew. Allen was a younger guy, only having a few years on him and Celeste, and was tall, 6'6" at least, but sinewy. He was also affable and approachable, usually using humor to de-escalate, or escalate as the situation called for. "Can't be wasting our time remembering everyone who's gonna die the next day."

"I've literally been here for months."

"Exactly, and who knows if you'll die tomorrow," Allen shrugged. "Can't be wasting brain cells on you, don't got enough to spare." He dropped a surprisingly solid bread roll into the stew.

"He's right, the two he has are already at max capacity." She snatched a roll from Allen's hand and headed over to the makeshift seats with her own bowl.

"See? She gets it." Allen grinned before getting back to cleaning the used bowls.

Miles rolled his eyes at the two jokers and sat across from Celeste. It was fairly common practice amongst mercenaries, not calling new recruits by name; it kept newbies at arm's length and reduced attachments until they had proven themselves. Everyone here was an experienced hand, having been out on dozens of missions with one another, and readily called each other by name.

"Hey fuckface! Where's the meat?" Well, by name or loving moniker.

"Fuck off," Allen spat over his shoulder with an irritating grin on his face. "Take it up with Helen, or your boy there, isn't he supposed to be the protege? Consider yourself lucky you ain't eating rocks."

Celeste grumbled as she dipped her bread roll into the stew and sucked on it. The bread was so hard it might as well have been a rock. The only way you could eat it was to let it soak in the stew first.

"Fuck, I can't wait for this mission. Escort missions are so nice. They gotta pay for the inn once we arrive." Celeste was lost in her head as she continued sucking on her bread.

Miles couldn't fault her for it, as it had been a long time since he'd slept in a bed or had a real bath. Mercenary life had its ups and downs, but they had been down for a while now. Luckily, Austin had secured a sweet gig from the nearby village of Lustra to the bigger town of Crownhaven. Someone once said that a prince had stayed there for a week, so they renamed the town, but considering that the town was in the middle of nowhere on the western side of the kingdom, no one really believed that.

"God, it'll be nice to be clean again. With hot water. And an actual good meal prepared in a kitchen." Mile was lost in thought too, trying to chew the slightly softened bread, ignoring Allen's colorful commentary about where to shove his opinions.

Celeste laughed, "I'm still impressed that you've lasted this long. Most of the academy snots are so up their own asses that they can't stand to rough it for a few days." She slapped his leg, "good thing Dylan liked you, or you would have never had a shot with us."

"Yeah, most of them are all nobles and were born with a stick up their asses. Very few commoners, but those of us who were there earned it by being tough little shits." He grinned at her as she laughed again. Her dimples showed when she laughed, and the freckles seemed to dance on her nose when she scrunched it. Her green eyes always sparkled with mischief.

"Hey now, don't go getting lost in my eyes until you've got your first kill," she teased, finishing up her stew.

Miles waggled his eyebrow and teased, "So you're saying that I'll get a special reward from you?" The words left his mouth before he even questioned why he was suddenly being so much more aggressive with her.

Celeste winked as she stood up with her bowl, grabbed his empty bowl and then dumped them over next to Allen, who just sighed at the additional work. Cooking duty was a pain as you also had to clean, but everyone cycled through it at some point, with Allen being one of the better cooks.

Allen looked up as Miles went by. "Hey rook, you oughta check in with Helen. If we're gonna head out on mission, she'll wanna stock up on supplies, so you'll need to find us what you can." He was already trying to think through what he was going to make for lunch, eyeing the stale bread and considering some kind of slightly thicker stew.

Miles found Helen gearing up with a bow and closed quiver. They would need to forage farther afield, so he already wasn't looking forward to the breakneck pace she usually set.

Helen was an old-timer in mercenary terms, which meant she was still alive after a decade of this kind of work. She was barely in her late 20's, tanned skin crossed with various scars giving testament to her experience. She had her short brown hair tied up in a ponytail, and a dark-green kerchief around her neck. She had gotten into the habit of wearing them when she had campaigned in the north as it would prevent her breath from being spotted. She was lithe, built to run, with long legs and a longer stride. She could cover miles without breaking a sweat, and often did.

"Good timing rook, grab your bow and pack, we're heading out over the river to see what we can find." She spoke softly, but with authority, brooking no argument, as if she were just stating a fact. Miles simply nodded.

***

Miles and Helen returned several hours later with a buck, some rabbits, and some vegetables. Allen had been overjoyed at the addition as he had been seriously considering adding grass or the crickets he caught into the stew. He also salted and smoked some for the trip ahead.

Miles had just washed himself off from the hunt when Harun grabbed him for equipment maintenance and prep. The man was a moving mountain, as tall as Allen and about three times the weight. He had Miles spend the next two hours cleaning, oiling, sharpening, checking and prepping every piece of weaponry and armor they had. Harun had taught him everything he would ever need to know about keeping his equipment, armor and weapon in top fighting shape. It was still a pain to do though. Just as he wrapped up, Dylan stopped by.

"Miles, got the contract and I want your input on it." Dylan was the only one who called him by name. Likely because they had known each other prior to him joining and it was too much trouble to call him something else now. He was an old friend of Austin's, having done mercenary work with him off and on for a decade or two. His hawkish nose and sharp eyebrows always gave Miles the impression of a bird of prey, which was apt as the man was lighting fast with his rapier.

"Sure Dylan, anything bugging you about it?"

Dylan shook his head, "Nothing that's immediately jumping out, but the pay is higher than what we would normally see for something of this size. Distribution seems odd to me too." He handed the paper over to Miles.

Miles started to scan the contract. It read like a typical one, though it did provide higher pay upon completion. The load they were to escort was two wagons and a dozen guards with the merchant. Their primary role would be to range in advance and scout the area. It made sense to hire a small group like them for this, but the payment scheme seemed off.

Most contracts would offer an upfront of 10%, 20% plus expenses at the destination, and then the remaining when they came back safely. This one did 0/10/90, which seemed to imply that they were worried they might run off on the other side once they knew what they were up against or weren't sure if any would survive the whole trip.

Miles let Dylan know his thoughts, which mirrored his own worries. They suggested that Austin negotiate an additional death and dismemberment clause if they wouldn't budge on some of the numbers. Miles also noted that there was a penalty clause written in that would require them to pay if the goods were damaged or stolen. The language was difficult to follow, but he had seen enough loophole contracts to spot someone trying to pull a fast one. That clause would need to go.

Finally, Miles was done with his chores and had some down time. He sat down by the cart to grab a quick nap.