Post by Iƪƪia on Sept 21, 2010 19:26:06 GMT -6
Chapter One
Smoke curled and twisted into many fantastic forms against the pale, moonlit sky. It was perhaps the only thing that would reveal that humans had been through there. Soon after they left, the plants would grow and regrow to mend the disturbed earth, though the grass that had been burnt would scar the landscape for much longer. It would show that on some day, for some reason, people had been here, camped here, harmed the environment, and moved on. Humans, after all, were the only creatures who did this.
The reasons why these humans had been here, however, would remain a secret. Perhaps a lone traveler was on his way to the next town. Perhaps it was a caravan of traders going to market. Perhaps an army was marching to meet the rival army of a corrupt king. Or perhaps it was none of these things.
It was a good thing then, that the camp had been stationed in a rather isolated location, in a small clearing within a sea of trees, as they made no attempt to remain quiet and well-hidden. Amidst the gathering of tents, people stood together, chatting about a broad range of subjects from the weather, to predictions, to politics, or they made bets about which of their comrades would die next. All the while, there was the most jovial air about the camp. No one seemed the least bit concerned about the upcoming battle. If anything, they seemed willing to throw their lives away.
They talked and joked and laughed as the moon climbed higher and higher in the sky, bathing the entire camp in its light. Everyone barely noticed as the fire was extinguished, leaving only the red-hot, smoldering embers in its place, or as there seemed to be more and more activity on the outskirts of the camp. It was unnecessary. They were all prepared - As prepared as they possibly could be, at least – to move out at a moment's notice. All they needed to do was to wait.
The waiting didn't last for much longer, as a man strode to the forefront of the group. He was quite older than the other commanding officers, and his uniform was much more highly decorated. His stern and weathered appearance alone was enough to reveal that he was no stranger to battles, and he had probably seen more comrades taken by the battle maiden then they could count. As he stood at the front, the camp fell silent, everyone rising to their feet in a show of respect to the old general. Everyone except for one person.
Noticing this dissenter, one of the captains edged over to them, looking down at them disapprovingly, as if this was the single worst display of insubordination he had ever seen.
“When the general stands,” He began coldly, “We all do.”
In response, he received only a rude gesture followed by the smug reply of: “I ain't bein' payed t'show respect.”
Such a show of disrespect may have been cause for alarm if not for the broad smile that accompanied her words. It was enough to confuse the captain long enough for the general to begin speaking, ignoring the exchange going off to the side.
“The time has come,” He spoke in an authoritative voice, “To put an end to the rebels that dare to infiltrate our country, covering it with their filth. We shall destroy them, one person at a time, and the first group will fall tonight. Bear in mind, comrades, that we go forth, not only in the name of our country, but in the name of the gods. We are the instruments of the gods, and this is an act of divine retribution! Let us bring judgment down upon the rebels. Do not give them the honor of standing to face their executioners. Now I ask that anyone who is not willing to allow the battle maiden to take their soul, turn and leave now, for only those prepared to die may fight for the country to live. In the name of the gods!”
Countless cheers erupted through the camp, praising the country and just about every god there was, and damning their enemies to Hell. The general waited patiently for the group to quiet down before continuing, this time in a much more business-like tone.
“We march when the moon is at its highest,” Then, turning to one of the captains, “We'll take the western ridge. We have no reason to suspect that they're prepared for an attack from the south.”
Here he paused for a moment before turning to look directly at the one person who still refused to stand, despite the myriad of glares it got her. He pointed toward her to make it clear exactly who he was speaking to.
“Name.”
“Ivy.”
“You have your assignment then? Your payment?”
“Aye, aye, I got it.”
“Very good. Now if you would like the rest of your payment,”[/b][/color] His tone then became much darker, “I want you to bring me their leader's head.”
At this, Ivy grimaced, hand going up to her throat as if she was the one about to be decapitated. Thinking about this for a moment, she spoke up just as he was about to turn away.
“Ah, does it have t'be his head? Can't I bring, say, his gloves or somethin'? I mean, a head's rather bulky and just- ugh, s'gross, man. I'd rather not lug that thing halfway 'cross th'country with me.”
There was a moment of silence as he merely stared at her. It was as if he were trying to figure out if she was being sincere. After awhile, he smiled at her, though like the girl's actions were hard to decipher, it was difficult to tell if his smile was genuine or condescending.
“Bring me anything that proves he was killed.”
Receiving an affirmative gesture from Ivy, he then turned to converse with another official, leaving the rest of the camp to chat among themselves. The group was beyond excited, some already bragging about the number of enemies that they were going to kill. Ivy meanwhile, only sat back on her heels, lighting up a cigarette and taking a long draw as she waited for the signal to move out.
As she did so, another soldier came to sit down beside her. He wasn't nearly as decorated as some of the officials, though he looked as though he had a few battles to his name as well. He held an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
“Fire, eh? I be terrible with the stuff myself. D'ya mind?”
Ivy glanced sideways at him, shrugging as she lit his cigarette in a flash, not moving at all. From his light hair and heavy accent, she pegged him as an islander, not that it mattered. If you've seen one native you've seen them all.
“Thank ye kindly,” He said, puffing on his cigarette, “So mercenary, eh?”
“Aye.”
“And what brings ye ta our humble squadron?”
“The money.”[/b]
He only laughed.
“What's so funny?”
“Nothin' like the love of the country?”
“Don' really care for ya'll t'be honest.”
“Tha' so? So they be hirin' a foreigner to fight for land an' country an'-”
“You don' seem too thrilled yerself.”
“Aha. Why they be hirin' ye? Honest?”
“... Do you know who I am?”
“Ah, no. No I don't.”[/color]
She paused, staring at him, as if she couldn't believe that he really didn't know who she was. That wasn't to say that she was a world-renowned mercenary, but she did alright. Her name was known in a few circles, mostly due to the fact that she'd managed to stay alive for so long. That was impressive when the majority of the world was always willing to throw themselves beneath a blade for some careless attempt to get into Heaven.
“Well... When you figure that out, then you'll know,” She replied, getting up and walking away as if she was the reason why their little army even stood a chance at winning, leaving him to look after her in confusion.
She stood at the edge of the camp, arms crossed, trying to look as important as she could. After awhile, however, she got bored, and proceeded to lay upon the ground. A bad idea, it turned out, as she was nearly trampled by the group of soldiers responding to a direction that she seemed to have missed.
Stepping out of their way just in time, she waited for the lot of them to walk by before casually trailing behind them. The ones in front were more likely to die.[/color]
