A Soldier's Life - 225 - (Patreon)

Chapter 225

Cornelius sifted through the papers, “Eryk Marco. Previously sentinel to Chancellor High Mage Zyna and, before that, a porter in Mage Castile’s Company.”

The unfit man took the sheet and narrowed his eyes as he read it. He started sucking his teeth loudly and annoyingly. He looked up, “How big is your box?”

I felt the familiar itching along my forearms that told me someone was using a discern truth spell on me. With my hands, I made a box about fifteen inches to the side, “This large, Centurion.”

He nodded, and his chin wobbled a little, accepting my answer before returning to his sheet. “A weak spell form for self-healing and air shield.” He let out a rasp and tossed the sheet on the table. “I am sure you will be taking this one, Cornelius. You have the first selection this cycle.”

Cornelius took the sheet on the table and pretended to read it repeatedly. Whereas Cornelius was straight-backed and rigid, with a deep tan, Sergius slouched slightly in his chair and was pale. He obviously did not work in the field often, if ever.

“The reports are almost too good to be true,” Cornelius finally said. “Unfortunately, I need to replenish my packs. Lone wolf agents are not a priority for me. And he is one of the commoners and from outside the Empire at that. I am leaning toward this pack here.” He patted a stack of papers.”

“You have lost a lot of Hounds recently.” He tsked. “Perhaps I should assume control of training the pups until the issues in the east are resolved,” he added sardonically. Cornelius’ jaw clenched out of sight of the man. He took the paper back with my evaluation.

Cornelius pretended to ignore him while he looked through the other sheets. From what Konstantin had told me, there were five teams of five, each called a hunting pack, and three individuals, Sigma, Val, and myself.  

“Why don’t we have his records?” Sergius asked.

Cornelius paged through some papers, “Lost in the siege of Macha. The only copy went to the commander. We can get his tablet readings sent by Centurion Silas.”

“They should have already been here,” Centurion Sergius grumbled. “Where are you from, boy, and how were you conscripted into the legion?”

My arms tingled again as Sergius used the Truthseeker spell form on me. “I was traveling with a caravan from Tsinga. I got drunk one night and fell asleep in a farmer’s barn. Since I couldn’t speak Telhian at the time I ended up in legion to pay my fines.”

Sergius nodded like that made sense. “And how loyal are you to the Empire now?”

“I have killed unerringly, both man and beast in defense of it,” I replied while remaining at attention. Sergius had a malicious smile form.

“Can you speak any languages besides Telhian and Tsinga?” he asked, and my blood froze as I shook my head no. If this asshole spoke Tsinga, my ruse was up.

“Pity. I could use a man fluent in Boutan. Still—if you give this one to me, you can take all the packs from this cycle.” Sergius offered with false generosity.

“I thought you needed a Hunting Pack for the south?” Cornelius said, surprised.

“The goblins are stirring again, but it will be years before the next horde rises.” Sergius waved his hand unconcerned.

Cornelius put down his papers and seemed to contemplate for a long moment. “I will concede the three lone wolves to you, but I was interested in the weak Truthseeker, Sigma. Give me the first selection for the next training cycle as well, and you can have the three lone wolves.”

Sergius’ face soured. “Fine,” he grunted. These pups are only half-trained anyway. “When is the training cycle complete?”

“Two weeks,” Konstantin’s voice echoed behind me, and I was proud I hadn’t jumped. The bastard was wearing one of the pairs of silent boots. “I feel confident this pup could leave today if you needed him.”

The Centurion’s eyes glittered like a fat man at a buffet. “Fantastic. This would be the fastest selection on record! I have business in the Citadel. Make sure he has a mount and is ready to leave with me in the morning, Hound,” he said, addressing Konstantin.

Sergius stood and collected the three sheets on Val, Sigma, and myself. I watched him as he left, and although overweight, the hint of a fit past lingered in his movements. As he descended the stairs, Konstantin shook his head, “That was easier than I thought it would be.”

Cornelius grunted, “That pixie prick has too much power.” I relaxed from attention as the conversation seemed to be turning informal.

“Anything to worry about?” Konstantin asked softly.

“He has been spending too much time with Octavian. He may run the Hounds in Octavian’s province, but their interaction smells like two-week-old fish.” Cornelius paused and looked at me. “Go get yourself a horse and camping gear, Hound.”

I looked to Konstantin, “Go, Hound Eryk. Requisition what you need from the army barracks near the east gate.” I was being dismissed so they could talk privately, but they both acknowledged I was now a Hound. I was an Empire Hound just like that, with no ritual or graduation ceremony.

The walk to the barracks was quick. Old men and young boys in uniforms greeted me. The experienced men had been sent to protect the northern coast and eastern border. The horse master let me select from the patrol mounts, and I found a young, healthy gelding. He was a strong, decent size for my frame. The old horse master noted he was here because of his odd coloring. He was mostly black, with thick lines of white in his coat. I spent some time grooming him so he could familiarize himself with me.

I liked to talk to my mounts, and this new one was no exception. “You know this marking here looks like a lightning bolt. Do you want to be called Lightning or Bolt?” I asked the horse. It turned its head at me, chewing on hay noncommittedly. “No. How about Thunder? Flash? Comet?” The horse shivered and swished his tail. “Ok, Comet it is.” I rubbed his ears.

There was a large selection of new saddles and bridles. Many animals had been harvested for meat to get through the harsh winter, and the leather workers of Sierra worked long hours to supply the army. I got all new gear and then moved to stuff the saddlebags with a full legionnaire travel camping kit. I didn’t need the gear but it was best to appear that I did. When I returned to our barracks, the sun had set, and Cornelius was gone. Konstantin pulled me aside.

“Remember what I told you.” He said gruffly. I nodded at his advice to do what I was told and not hesitate or argue. “Take this.” He handed me a large medallion that appeared to be carved from bone. “That is a Hound token. It can be used to requisition equipment anywhere in the Empire and use the portals freely.” I turned over the carving; on one side was a hound howling, and on the other side was text with a number: 411. “The number is so they can track which Hound is requisitioning goods and using the portals. There is usually a master list for which numbers are currently active, so don’t try using a token from a Hound known to be dead.”

“Can I get gear for others I am traveling with? Take them through the portals?” I inquired, making the token vanish.

“Yes. But remember, everything will be logged and reported back to your Centurion.” He whispered. “Stay alive, and if you get to the archives, burn it down.”

“What?” I said, a little shocked.

“Kill the guards and destroy everything. I was supposed to give you a list of twenty samples you were to take but destroy everything.” My heart started racing a little. Whose side was Konstantin on?

I calmed down and was sure Konstantin had his reasons. “Okay. Well, don’t get yourself killed, old man.” I said with a slight smile.

He grunted, “Not all of us have Fortuna riding our shoulders. Don’t get too upset when you hear I have been sent to Pluto’s Realm.”

“You will just piss him off, and he will send you back,” I retorted, getting a chuckle from Konstantin and causing the room to look over at us. Konstantin didn’t laugh with you; he only laughed at you.

“You have the night off. I have to make sure none of these idiots get eaten by the first mimic they encounter.” Konstantin ended our heart-to-heart. Soon, the room of pups was being emptied so that they could head out on tonight’s tracking. I got a few nods as they passed me. Castian had his cohort, not so much, and I had a feeling I would be seeing them again.

Before my litter returned from the nightly training, a man in Hound clothing came up the stairs. He looked around the room and asked, “Eryk Marko?” I nodded. “Grag your things, we are leaving. Meet us at the west gate in thirty minutes.”

“We? I thought I was going with Centurion Sergius.” I inquired but still grabbed my pack.

He sighed like he didn’t have the time or will to explain. “We are his personal Hounds. We guard him when he travels.” He didn’t wait, turned, and descended the stairs without a sound. I assumed he was wearing the boots of silence.

I went to the army stables and saddled Comet. He was excited to go for a ride as we trotted through the lower city toward the western gate. I diverted two streets up and didn’t see Acilia and Cantina with their cart out yet, which shouldn’t be a surprise as the morning sky was barely gray with the rising sun. I dismounted and knocked loudly on their door. Acilia opened a short while later, her hair a mess and still in a nightshirt, looking worried before she recognized me. “Sorry to wake you. I am leaving the city.” I held out a small pouch. Acilia was disoriented but took it. I mounted and rode away. One hundred single silver coins should be enough for them to stretch out into a year.

I arrived at the gate to find Sergius and six grizzled Hounds mounted and waiting for me. The man who came to get me in the barracks snickered. “That is a terrible choice for a mount, Hound. The white stripes will be easier to see at night. Keep charcoal on you to run into the markings.”

“Yes, Hound.” I said, patting Comet reassuringly for the slight. I leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I think your markings are beautiful.”

Centurion Sergius was impatient, and soon we were trotting down the road. Three Hounds rode a few lengths ahead, and three rode a few lengths behind. This left me riding next to Sergius and his majestic black steed. For all the man’s extra bulk, I could tell he was a competent rider and had chosen a mount fit for a duke. Not knowing what to do, I was silent while we made our way west past farms.

“I had an interesting dinner last night in the Citadel with some barons and the count. Apparently, there is a Hound running around with his own dreamscape amulet.” I tried to remain calm as my heart raced. I could already feel my arms tingling from his spell form.

“Really? I used to have one of those. I left mine in the Telha.” I replied calmly. With my eyes straight ahead, I could feel his eyes on me.

“Disappointing,” he finally said, letting his sentiment bleed into his voice. “What are you currently carrying in your dimensional space?”

“Lots of things. Twenty ration bars, my blood compass, a few coins, a spare set of clothes, my Hound thermal stone and fletching kit, the poisons.” I paused, pretending to think, but I had already filled up my dimensional crate. “Oh yes, one canteen of whisky and some healing paste.”

His spell form was active the entire time I had talked, and he grunted, disappointed when I finished. We didn’t talk for the rest of the ride and took rooms at an inn in a modest village. We didn’t pay for our rooms or meals, which the owner clearly didn’t appreciate. At least I got my own room, but I didn’t use the dreamscape amulet. In fact, I barely slept at all. It felt like I was traveling with a pack of feral dogs, one misstep, and they would turn on me.

No one disturbed me during the night, and I was up early in the morning. I found the local blacksmith and gave him a copper for some coal as the Hound had suggested. I had Comet saddled and ready to ride before the others even finished breakfast. We resumed our journey, but this time, I was rotated to the front and back of our guard. These Hounds were crass with their quiet discussions. But they were all well-trained, spotting things before I noticed them. I chose not to participate in their hushed conversations and just hoped whatever assignment Centurion Sergius gave me would be alone.

Around evening, we approached a large town with a wooden and stone stockade. Centurion Sergius pulled next to me. “There is a bold merchant named Janus within  Pontus’ walls who thought he could fool the Emperor.” I immediately thought I was going to be tasked with killing him, but it was much worse as I listened. “He smuggled olive pits out of the Empire and started a plantation in another kingdom two years ago. The plantation will be dealt with, but Janus needs to be taught a lesson.”

I nodded, remembering that only the Emperor was allowed to grow and sell olives. “What do you need me to do?” I asked, sounding committed to whatever task he would ask of me.

Centurion Sergius smiled devilishly, “Merchant Janus is currently away on business. He was warned and needs to learn the consequences of his actions. His wife, daughter, and son are home. Kill the children.” I nodded resolutely, but my gut was churning. Everything felt so surreal; how could I follow through with this?