Mercenary of Lastia - BtLH - Ch 77 - End Book 1 (Patreon)

The room was small. It had a single window and reminded Lys of the prison cell in Mythshell. She lowered herself into the chair, her frown deepening as the others settled across from her.

She glanced between the faces of the four men opposite of her around the round table. Ashton and Swift took their seats, joined by two unfamiliar sergeants.

“I’m Sergeant Fargan,” one of them said, his voice clipped. “Your training sergeant requested to be present for this interview.”

Her gaze flicked to Swift, searching for any hint of reassurance, but his face remained impassive.

“Am I in trouble, sir?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

“Have you done something wrong, recruit?” he asked back immediately.

Lys flattened her lips and remained silent.

Fargan’s eyes narrowed. “There’s some irregularity with your enlistment that needs clarification. What’s your real name?”

“Lys Trekhill, sir.”

A beat of silence followed. “Not Lysandra Trekhill?”

Her brow furrowed. “Everyone calls me Lys. Only my mother ever used Lysandra.”

Beside her, Sergeant Ashton exhaled sharply.

“And you are a woman?” Fargan pressed. “Why didn’t you report that during your recruitment?”

“No one asked,” Lys replied, her voice steady despite the churning in her gut. “The recruitment contract never mentioned gender.”

Fargan nodded slowly. “I see. Were you informed about the warrant for your arrest from Thornfield?”

“Sergeant Ashton mentioned it,” she said, her fingers curling against her thighs. “He said it would be taken care of later.”

The other sergeant leaned forward, his voice low. “The issue is that we’ve now taken her out of the jurisdiction.”

Lys turned to him, confusion etched across her face. “Sergeant...?”

“Specialist,” Fargan corrected. “Legal Specialist Erys. He’ll be assisting us.”

Ashton leaned forward, his fingers interlaced on the table. “At the time, I believed her to be a man. There was one for her arrest, but I believed it was a mistake.”

Lys’ shoulders tensed. The room felt smaller, the air thicker.

Erys cleared his throat. “This has created a legal tangle. Our writ of recruitment doesn’t allow moving recruits out of the province without settling their status. That should have happened in Mythshell.”

Lys’ mouth went dry. “What does this mean for me now?”

Fargan glanced at Erys, who shrugged. “It can likely be resolved with a larger payment. An Aureus or two should suffice.”

A bribe, then? No matter how you phrased it, paying that much money was a bribe.

Swift inhaled sharply. “That’s outrageous.”

As Erys began to explain, Lys cut in. “I’d just like it settled, please.”

Ashton’s eyes narrowed. “You understand this comes out of your pay?”

Lys nodded. “That’s fine. I don’t care.”

Fargan leaned back in his chair. “Very well. We’ll review the details and speak with you once the legalities are settled. You’re dismissed, recruit.”

Lys stood, her legs unsteady. She headed for the door, eager to escape back to the familiar confines of the infirmary.

One thing she had learned—legal troubles were almost as bad as facing enemy soldiers.

**

Lys lay in the infirmary, the scent of antiseptic and herbs mingling in the air.

Rehseir was scribbling something on parchment at his station. Like usual the upper infirmary was empty. Only those who needed long-term care, or were important were stationed in it.

And somehow, that meant just her most of the time.

No one had given her orders to move, and Rehseir insisted she stay on her bed most of the time.

Most of the time—she sighed. It was incredibly boring. He didn’t chide her when she did her own exercise anymore, at least.

Being left like a loose end felt terrible.

The dull ache in her side was almost completely gone. She shifted and reached for her leather-bound journal on the small table beside her bed.

The pages felt smooth beneath her fingers as she opened it, the charcoal pencil ready in her hand. She hesitated, staring at the blank page, before finally pressing the pencil to the paper.

“Thornfield seems like a lifetime ago,” she wrote. “The fields, the faces, even Caius and his gang—everything feels distant. I can barely remember the girl who stood up to them.”

Her mind drifted back to those early days. The smell of fresh earth after rain, the laughter of her little brother and sister playing on the hill.

Her smile slipped.

Emil’s terrified face when she confronted Caius. The way her heart had pounded. The sudden premonitions, and the dreadful warning she’d ignored.

She paused, tapping the pencil against her chin. “Joining the White Dragons was supposed to be a fresh start,” she continued. “A way to protect my family by staying far away. The only choice possible after Silverpines.”

Images of her training flashed through her mind—the grueling drills under Sergeant Swift’s watchful eye, the camaraderie that had slowly formed among the recruits. The first time she had drawn blood in battle with her bow.

“Was it all worth it?” she wrote. “The battles, the pain, losing Garrett and Orin... I thought I was strong enough to handle it all. But now, lying here, I feel so uncertain.”

She glanced around the infirmary.

“I don’t know what comes next,” she wrote. “Every step forward feels like I’m walking on a tightrope over a chasm. One wrong move and I’ll fall.”

Her thoughts turned to the recent battle—the chaos of arrows flying through the air, the clash of steel on steel, Finn’s lifeless body crumpling to the ground.

“I need to find my path,” she scribbled furiously. “I can’t keep doubting myself every step of the way.”

She closed the journal and set it aside, feeling no more certain than before but somehow lighter for having put her thoughts into words. The future remained a murky expanse, but for now, she would rest and gather strength for whatever lay ahead.

She didn’t get much time alone before two familiar faces burst into the room drawing an annoyed look from Rehseir.

“Lys!” Plainfield said, a grin spreading on his face. “You’re looking good today.”

“You say that every time,” Lys said, rolling her eyes.

Stormwell nodded in agreement. “We’ve got some good news for you.”

Lys raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“We’re all being promoted to regulars,” Plainfield said, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “The officers decided to give us the meritorious service pin, but since recruits can’t receive it, they’re making us regulars instead.”

“Sounds like bureaucracy turning into a benefit for once,” Lys muttered.

“We’ll still have to go through the training,” Stormwell added, “but it’s a step up.”

Plainfield grinned. “Better pay!”

Lys blinked, processing the information. Before she could respond, Plainfield and Stormwell were pulling her out of the infirmary.

“Come on,” Stormwell urged. “Let’s go watch the training session.”

“Make sure you bring her back before dark,” Rehseir called.

Lys blinked. She was surprised he was letting her go like that—and for so long. Maybe she’d be getting out and with the others in the barracks soon?

They made their way to the training grounds. Men clashed with swords and shields, filling the air with the sound of metal against metal, mingled with grunts of exertion. They found a spot to watch, and Lys soaked in the atmosphere.

Plainfield and Stormwell chattered happily beside her, their voices blending into the background. Lys took a deep breath, the dull ache in her side pinching. She winced. Not ready for any special breathing, then.

“Now that we’re regulars, our training will be more personalized,” Plainfield said, drawing Lys’s attention back to the conversation.

Lys raised an eyebrow. “No more being shouted at by sergeants to dig holes in the mud?”

Stormwell laughed. “We’ll be spending the winter in Dragonblanc, so maybe not too much of that.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Lys’s mouth. “I don’t believe it. The company loves digging holes.”

As they watched the training session, Lys felt a sense of belonging wash over her. The smell of sweat and sword oil, the sound of sparring—it all felt like home. Maybe, just maybe, she had found her place after all.

“Lys Trekhill!” A deep voice cut through the din, causing Lys and her companions to turn. A large man in leather armor stood nearby, his full beard and broad shoulders giving him an imposing presence.

Lys straightened. “Sir?”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Pathwarden,” he corrected gruffly. He strode closer, his gaze sweeping over Lys and her friends. “It’s about time they stopped hiding you.”

[End Book 1]

**

Yeah, I hear lots of groans from people at ending at this point... gotta look forward to it in book 2. Not sure when I will get to releasing it, I have a pretty full schedule, but I definitely don't want to stop the story here. When I first started with the story I had planned for there to be at least 3 book in Lastia, for sure. With room for more of course. But for now I need to dip back to ShipCore and Sigma. Probably need to update the schedule thing again. So far it hasn't been very accurate, lol. (Either way too long, or too short.) Problems of being a torch-y writer.

Hope you enjoyed the book! I am thinking about starting to release it on RR, or possibly just keeping it on Patreon only for a while. Eventually (probably when Book 2 is done, or working on Book 3) I'd like to try releasing it on Amazon, with an audiobook etc.

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