Teagan whirled her head around, eyes wide. She analyzed the situation as quickly as she could manage, but her hope only further shrank away as she saw the situation she was in. This was bad… really, really bad. There were eight of them in total, surrounding her from all sides. Three of them pointed heavy crossbows at her, while the other five clutched swords, ranging in size from an arm’s length to taller than those who wielded them. 

“Sitzer sie aff!” one of the crossbowmen shouted, much to Teagan’s confusion. Whatever language these people were speaking wasn’t one that she understood. 

“I, I’m not sure what you’re saying, do you, um, understand me, perchance? And can you please lower those things? It’s not like I have a weapon!”

Teagan’s ambushers exchanged glances for a quick second before one of them, a handsome man with a robustly bushy blonde beard and a stature to match, piped up in a voice accented similarly to Hannah’s.

“An outlander! Ah, there are no worries, we are all versed in your tongue, my shirtless friend. Where do you hail from? We do not see many visitors in these dark times!”

Teagan, a bit relieved by the man’s joviality, relaxed. Maybe they weren’t bandits after all, and just wanted to make sure Teagan wasn’t one, same as the three knights she encountered with Hannah.

“Oh, that’s a relief. I’m from Dunnehain; it’s a small duchy in the highlands, I wouldn’t be surprised if you haven’t heard of it.”

“No, no, I know of your home, highlander, and I must say, you are truly far from it! My father did mercenary work in Cill na Naomh, or so I’m told. But enough of that, hmm? If all goes well, we’ll be on our way in a bit, and you’ll be on yours!”

“You’re bandits after all then, eh? Leave me to die after you take what little I’ve got?” Teagan asked, casting her glance between the three holding crossbows. If she could get them all out of the way at once, she could manage the swordsmen, but how…

“Nonsense, nonsense! We are not banditti, although in these dark times, I cannot blame you for thinking so, haha! No, such brigands would have shot you on the spot and taken what they wish. We are a free company of Landsknekte, the Company of the Orchid! In fact, we protect these lands from banditti, thieves, marauders, and, most importantly, tomkins. We try to maintain order in this stretch of Pazsichia in the hopes that we may one day reclaim it wholly.”

“Forgive my suspicion, but there’s little profit in the business of keeping order… what’s in it for you, hmm?” Teagan inquired, still doubtful of the man’s sincerity.

“Well, banditti such as they are have a penchant for theft and murder, so when we get our hands on them, we tend to… reappropriate their stolen goods, aye? While that used to be all we needed, times have changed. There are only so many banditti out there, and the ones that remain formed up into a gang that we can’t hope to take on. What we manage to lift from loners is not nearly enough to keep us wholly accounted for; that’s where you come in. See, there is a toll for passage through this area, protected as it is by our company.”

“I don’t even have a shirt, sir, surely you can see that I lack the capacity to pay anything of value!” Teagan pleaded, “To take from me what little food I’ve squirreled away would be murder all the same. I’ll take a different route if your toll is only for the area you protect, then.”

“Wait!” the man exclaimed as Teagan started to turn around, “Perhaps I can explain better. This toll, it is nothing much, and it is payable through many means; food, fresh water, tools, clothes, shoes, service, and even information alone are all currencies we are happy to barter in, though their importance runs in that order. Other routes are far more dangerous than this one, as they run near or even through great concentrations of tomkins. If that isn’t enough to sway you, there’s a hearth, a cot, and shelter from this damn rain waiting for you at the end of this route. We can work the terms of payment out later...” he paused, scratching the back of his head and casting his gaze sideways before continuing, “...and we can probably get you a shirt while we’re at it.”

Teagan grimaced as she realized that all the men in the company were likely ogling her, and by extension, likely saw the tomkins. None of them had remarked on it yet, but Teagan knew the question was coming.

“Um, well, if there really are bandits lurking out there… what kind of payment do you people want from me, then? I stole what few rations I have from tomkins so they’re no more than a few mouthfuls. I’ve got no more fresh water than is pouring down around you right now. My backpack is the only thing I have you could even remotely consider a tool, and even that’s starting to tear at the seams… it really just comes down to service and information, and, well, I really don’t think I’d know anything about these lands that you don’t.”

“Well, for starters, we’ll take those tomkins you’ve got there off of your hands - er, your chest, rather - and from there we can talk about the rest once we’ve arrived somewhere a bit more sheltered from the rain, eh? What do you say?”

“Out of the question.” Teagan immediately responded, shaking her head.

“Oh, hoh-hoh!” the man chortled, nodding knowingly as he wagged a chastising finger at Teagan, “I understand now. It’s plain to see, really, why else would you carry them like so? These tomkins, they’re special to you, aren’t they?”

Teagan gritted her teeth and lowered her stance almost imperceptibly. Her muscles tensed as she felt energy concentrate at the tips of her fingers. The foe might be a lot more intimidating here, but if this was going to be another fight like the skirmish with Wulfric von Nieders, Teagan wasn’t about to let the first strike slip away. If she could just dispatch the crossbowmen first…

“You must use them to relieve some of your, eh, companionship needs, huh?”

Teagan’s eyes widened for a second before closing in a tight squint as she felt blood rush to her face. This wasn’t something she wanted to be so upfront about, but, well, if it avoided a fight...

“Maybe, maybe not! It’s none of your business either way! All that matters is your bargain’s off the table!” Teagan barked, causing the man to raise his hands unoffensively.

“I, uh, sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to pry, alright? Whatever you do with ‘em is none of my business!” the man hurriedly spouted, “Buuuuut, if you aren’t going to hand them over, we’ll need some other form of compensation for letting you travel this dangerous route, hmm?”

“Hey! Hey!”

Teagan looked down. Sihil was frantically waving and whispering at her, trying to get her attention. When Teagan’s glance caught her eye, Sihil went on.

“They said service, yeah? I’m sure you can help them out with your magic! You can ask for clothes and rations even after you pass through! I’m sure they’ll give you lots once they know what you can do!”

“Are you kidding?!” Teagan hissed, trying not to draw any attention to her speech, “I’m not about to let these clowns know what I can do! I was thinking of just taking them out and ‘reappropriating’ everything I can carry for myself! It’s a whole of a lot easier!”

“And a whole of a lot more dangerous!” Sihil retorted, pounding ineffectually on Teagan’s chest with a balled fist.

“Um, excuse me, young lady, are you talking to us?” the man asked, staring confusedly at Teagan, free hand on the back of his head. 

“No, no, no, I just talk to myself when I’m in a pinch, and you’re really putting me in one! I’m trying to think, eh? If you’re noble brigands like you make yourselves out to be, you’ll shut up! This’ll only take longer if you keep butting in!” Teagan snapped, noticing how cowed the man was at her previous aggression. Just as she had imagined, the man shirked back as she raised her voice, clearly upset by her disposition.

“Fine by me! Sorry!” he exclaimed, seemingly to the chagrin of his accomplices.

Teagan pondered on what Sihil said. The girl did have a point, after all. Whatever these people could possibly want out of her could be no worse than fighting them directly, right? She might not make off with as much loot, sure, but all the food in the world wouldn’t help her if she took another serious wound. Their leader also seemed to be a bit of a pushover, so she could always muscle her way through if things turned worse. Even if they did know the extent of her abilities, what could they do about it?

“Alright!” Teagan exclaimed, lifting a finger.

“Alright?” The leader of the Landsknekte sheepishly asked, wondering if Teagan was going to go on yet another tirade.

“I think I’ve got something that’d interest you. You said you’d take a service, yeah? Well, I think I’ve got a bit of a talent that you could certainly make use of. Watch this!”

With these words and a chortle, Teagan released the energy she’d been storing at her fingertips in a sudden blast of power, directed at the man’s sword. Surely enough, the behemoth blade was blown from his grasp, and landed with a splash in a puddle of mud nearly ten paces past him.

“M-my zveihander! Wha… you’re a witch!”

Teagan panicked as the crossbowmen, who had gradually lowered their implements, took careful aim at her once again. Were these backwoodsmen really so backward that they’d kill her for this?

“Hold on! I’m not a witch, okay! Don’t aim those things at me!” Teagan screamed, flailing her free arm at the crossbows pointed her way.

“Then… then… my precious zveihander, pulled from my grip, covered in grime and filth; how in the world did you do that? That sure isn’t something a normal person could do!”

“Must you overexaggerate every word you say? Get a grip, all of you! It’s magic, sure, yes, but I’m not a witch! It’s… good magic! Yeah!” Teagan exclaimed, growing irritated with the man’s irritatingly naive demeanor.

“Good… magic? Eh? That’s a thing?”  dubiously asked another one of the Landsknekte, a younger man idly twirling a rapier.

“Sure it is, you dolt! If there’s evil magic - witchcraft - then it only makes sense that there’s good magic too, right? Such accusations when I’m only trying to pay your ridiculous toll… maybe I ought to use my ‘witchcraft’ on you. It might help you understand the difference.”

“Hey, hey, wait! You have no place threatening us! I don’t care what you can do, we’ve got real weapons, so you’d best watch your damn tongue and act with some civility!” the man retorted, pointing his flame-bladed rapier at Teagan’s face.  

“Hold on, now, there’s no need for that!” the blond bearded man shouted, much to the chagrin of his accomplices, “We are all friends here, or at least, not enemies enough that we must threaten and order each other around. Besides, I think I know exactly where to put your talents to use, enough so that if you did just a night’s work for us, we’d be greatly and grandly indebted to you!”

“Your debt isn’t something I want or need. Food and clothes are, so I’d prefer those. Like you said, though, can we talk about what you’d have me do when we get out of this damn rain? I’m starting to freeze here, I don’t have a thick shirt and a broad hat like you lot.”

“Right! Well, sure, there’s a nice dry cave not too far ahead, that’ll make for great shelter. I don’t figure you’ll be able to wait out this rain, however; the Regtniktsland - the Rainless Land in your tongue - gets about one of these showers every year or so, but when they come, they’re downright torrential! If we’re lucky, this can last for over a week, and it’s pretty intense.”

“Clearly!” Teagan replied, wringing water out of her limp hair with her free hand.

“Let’s head over there, then! Just, ah, one more thing, yeah? If you try to pull anything with your magic - be it slipping away without settling your debt or laying so much as a finger on any one of us - we’ll slit your throat and use your skull as a cup. Your life really means nothing at all to us, and you’d do well to remember that. Civility is the only thing keeping our blades from running you through.”

Teagan, absolutely stunned by the man’s complete and instant change in tone and personality, was completely unable to formulate a response to the formerly jovial leader of the Company of the Orchid. Her eyes narrowed as she prepared to spring at the man and rip out his throat with her bare hands.

“It’s civility, of course, from which we will bring about civilization. Let’s get a move on, aye?”

~

Icaria shivered in the darkest corner of the cavern. The rain was awful, and between the downpour and the mud it created, traveling was extremely dangerous. Even Firkon insisted that the army set up camp as soon as they came across the hillside crevice. Most of the soldiers were still outside, disassembling the bolt throwers, so Icaria was completely alone in the furthest recesses of the hollow.

“There’s no use slinking about in the shadows, Volkhard. We’re alone.”

“One can never exercise too much caution. I’d think you the sort to be out there helping the men pack up the oxybelai, if not directing the whole operation. Sitting glumly in the darkest corner of this hole, though… not what I’d normally expect from you. What might be the matter?”

Icaria chuckled haughtily and shook her head, her raven black hair cascading around her head in limp clumps, her normally neatly bunned hair now loose.

“I can’t stand it. We were so close, Volkhard, so damn close to catching up to her, and now here we are sitting in a cave waiting for it to stop raining. This rain, I’m damn sure it’s no obstacle to her.”

Volkhard shrugged.

“She’s in unfamiliar lands. We aren’t. Every step that takes her towards Agopolis brings her closer to the heartland, closer to the network of forts and military academies that helped us seize these lands from the giants in the first place. Give it time, Icaria, give it time. I hate it as much as you do, knowing that every day we waste might spell more innocent lives lost, but it is all we can do.”

Icaria shot Volkhard a cruel glance, one that chilled him to the bone. Something stirred in her eyes, something unsettlingly cold, even to a veteran fighter such as himself. He found himself wondering if he had said anything that might have incited her anger.

“It’s cruel.” Icaria spat, pounding the damp ground with a tight fist.

“What is?”

“Fate. Destiny. Chance. Whatever it was that’s responsible for me being born a mere speck on this wretched world where others are given such power that they could perhaps be considered gods. I have spent my life training, Volkhard, training to unlock and surpass the power of the giants, and every night I fear that it was a fruitless endeavor, a fool’s attempt at evening the unjustly tipped scales of fortune.”

“You’re a human, not a giant. It’s not something that can be helped.”

“So it would seem… so it would seem. I won’t let this happenstance stop me from killing the giantess, though, not at all. As much as I want to think that I’ll still kill her as easily as I have her kin, I know that this is the greatest challenge I’ll ever face.”

“Wait, don’t you want Firkon to kill the giantess?” Volkhard asked, a bit confused by Icaria’s enigmatic remarks.

“To hell with Firkon. There’s a change of plans, Volkhard, I feel it! The First Emperor has given me instruction. No longer am I to entrust the death of the giantess to him. He is a noble man, an intelligent man, but he is only a man. Men are fallible, Volkhard, more fallible than they care to admit.”

“Are you insinuating that you are more than human?” Volkhard asked, eyebrow inquisitively raised.

“I have tempered my body and mind alike longer than any man in this company has been alive. Perhaps even longer than you have been alive, though I hesitate to count you among the likes of men. Your blood is that of the giants, as is your body. You have trained in the arcane and the martial alike, not too dissimilar to myself, but I know that you honed your body far more than I. Giants… their bodies are inferior to ours. Without their size, the strongest of giants would be akin to the weakest of men in physicality. If you, then, fight on equal footing with other giantslayers, I can only imagine what your strength is when you unveil your true nature. That, however, is beside my point. How can such inferior beings be granted such a boon in their size? Were it that I was a giant - First Emperor forgive me for uttering such words - I would be capable of wiping the rest of their race from this world with pleasure and with ease.”

“Do not dwell on things you cannot change, Icaria, and you will find yourself lamenting far less. Come now, perhaps you would care for a drink? I stole away a draught of mead before we departed from Q’thuman, and I’ve been saving it for when we finally kill the giantess. Maybe it’d be better to lift our spirits with it now - when we need it most, it seems - instead of saving it for after we’re already drunk on the sweet nectar of victory.”

Icaria chuckled again, this time far more amicably, and shook her head in decline of Volkhard’s offer.

“Inebriation dulls the mind, the body, and the spirit. The First Emperor would not have it that the executor of his will enfeebles themself so. Your offer alone is enough to raise my spirit, though. You aren’t bad… for a giant. Better company than I’ve had in some time now.”

Volkhard was taken aback when Icaria raised her head again, and for the first time that he’d seen, smiled a genuinely happy smile. This, of course, was absolutely nothing compared to the gut-wrenching leap his heart took when her hand wrapped gently around his own, free of the abrasive power present in most of her movements. After a few silent seconds had passed, Icaria awkwardly let go of Volkhard’s hand and retracted her own hand into her lap.

“Hah. The First Emperor would flay me if he knew I had even the slightest modicum of affection for a giant.”

“The First Emperor’s dead, Icaria. Been dead for some time now.”

“No. The First Emperor lives on. The man is dead, perhaps, but men are fallible. The First Emperor has become so much more than that man who died. He is an idea, a creed, a way of existence. In this regard, the death of the man who was once the First Emperor has only made the idea that is now the First Emperor stronger; it made him a martyr, and a martyr is capable of feats far greater than a man.”

“Ah. You’re pretty devoted to His cause then, aren’t you?”

Icaria’s smile widened at this statement, which Volkhard knew she took as a great compliment.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Silence reigned once more as the two leaned against the slightly damp wall of the cavern, almost completely dark save the modicum of light that reflected off of the slick ceiling. The quiet was interrupted only by the occasional rhythmic patter of water droplets on stone.

“I want you to have something.” Icaria said to Volkhard after the tramping of boots became audible, a sure sign that Firkon’s men were almost ready to set up camp.

Icaria withdrew her dagger from her belt, gave it a few lazy flips, and handed it off to Volkhard, who received it hesitantly. It was a beautiful blade, wrought from subtly blue-tinted metal and etched with a stunningly ornate grapevine pattern. Embedded in the slightly oversized pommel was a perfectly pink jewel that refracted the scant light of the cavern with surprising intensity, casting a beautiful pink tinge on the ground over which it was held in a manner similar to stained glass. Volkhard beheld the masterfully made armament with a mixture of wonder and worry, unsure if he should accept such a luxurious gift.

“This dagger, it’s, it’s beautiful! Most likely priceless as well… such a finely crafted weapon befits the armory of a king, not the belt of a soldier such as myself. I can’t accept this from you, Icaria, I have no use for such ornamental weapons, nor for anything of such a small size at all. I slay giants, not men.”

“It’s not something I’d expect you to use, Volkhard. Think of it more like a keepsake or a trinket. Admire its beauty when you’re tired, sad, or distraught. Feel its weight when you’re lonely. Let it become familiar to you, and you will find that it will serve you more faithfully than any weapon in your arsenal.”

Volkhard’s wandering gaze settled on the massive gem in the pommel. It was captivatingly beautiful, and something in it called out to him, urged him to keep it close. It was comforting.

“Thanks. I guess I’ll keep it after all, then. I’m surprised I didn’t notice how intricate it was when you had it pointed at my throat.”

Volkhard quietly tucked the dagger away into his belt and stood up as the first of Firkon’s men came into view, hauling pieces of the disassembled oxybelai. He stalked off into the the shadows as quietly as he had emerged from them, unseen by all save Icaria, who felt her heart quiver with the strangest of emotions as the man paced away.