Undying Blood - Beta - Chapter 04 (Patreon)

"You're certain you want a helm? If you haven't trained with one it might be hard to fight with one."

"I'm certain," Francis stated as the armor smith stared at him, arms crossed over his large chest. "Tell me I'm wrong.  Not having one would be foolish in a fight like what we are headed into."

"No... you're right... which is surprising because I'm certain most of your companions spent all their money last night at the local bathhouses."

Sighing, Francish shrugged.

"I'd like to consider a lifetime of getting to enjoy that versus one night.  Besides, a brother of mine got a case of crotch rot and I really don't want to risk that before a battle."

The large man nodded, chuckling as he turned around, pulling off three different types of helmets from the shelf behind him.

"No, that wouldn't make for a good time at all.  Very well let's try these three."

Two of the three the man set on the counter were a padded leather variation, not going to do much against an arrow or sword but might help against a shield or off strike from a club.

"This one is actually more than you have but I'll be honest, a part of me wants to offer it if you're willing to give me all  your silver."

"All my silver?"

Holding up the chain helmet which had a padded cap for underneath the armorer nodded.

"I know you got seven silver, we all did, but I also won a little bit last night at the gate betting on you.  For that... let's assume you have six silver as I know what the fee was last night at the Dancing Bear.  I'll let you have it for five which means you can enjoy one more night of drinking and eating.  If you live, come back one day and give me the other fifteen silver I would normally need for such a helm."

"And if I die?"

"Just make sure it happens from a blow to some other part of your body," he replied with a grin.

Not waiting at all, Francis pulled out five pieces of silver and set them on the counter.

"Sounds like a deal.  Hopefully I can pay you back someday."

The older man nodded and frowned.  

His large, stubby fingers slid the coins off the wood counter and into his other hand.

"Truthfully, if you live, that means we have actually won a battle.  That alone would give me hope we might be able to win this war.  You know what we're facing don't you?"

Grimacing, Francis shrugged.

"Kind of... lots of casters, very fast and armed men, and --"

"No... not men," the armor replied, leaning against the counter and motioning for Francis to come closer.  

He spoke quieter as he glanced out the door.

"Beastmen... they call them beastkin but they are different.  Something none of us have ever seen nor heard of. No one knows where they come from but rumor is they aren't of this world."

Those were rumors... surely this guy can't be serious...

"Are you certain?"

Both green eyes locked onto him and the man's weathered brow drew together.  Gone was the jovial expression, now replaced with a tight frown as his lips pressed hard together.

"I would bet my shop on it, boy.  The gods have been quiet.  None have answered our prayers.  Even our mages and other masters have found no success.  Surely you know what I'm speaking of?"

"I do... but the sages... They haven't come and the grand masters are all quiet. If that is the case, then what?"

Neither spoke for a few as the sounds of a hammer on metal across the street carried into the shop.  Dozens of times it rang out and each of them stood there, watching the other.

"I have no idea. Just be safe and pray the grandmasters or sages answer.  Surely the King has called them.  I know the noble houses have asked their patriarchs to assist.  If none answer the call, we are destined to fall."

Pounding his fist on the counter, the older man stood up and tapped the helm.

"Let's get you fitted. Perhaps you can be the one we're looking for."

Laughing, Francis shook his head.

"I'm the ninth son. You know what that means."

Groaning, the armorer bounced the coins together in his meaty palm and smirked.

"Perhaps I shouldn't sell you the helmet then," he joked. "Basically it means I'm donating that helmet to the next guy!"

"Exactly!" Francis exclaimed as he grabbed the padded cap and started putting it on.  "You're helping someone who is probably the sixth son instead!"

***

Poking his food, Francis looked up at his brother who sat across from him in their room.  

It was tiny, two beds crammed together, a chamberpot between the two of them and a tiny shelving system where a single chain coif waited for its first battle.

"You're right, eating down stairs doesn't feel like what we should be doing. We could still run together, see if we have a chance as a pair."

"Seriously Michael? We know what happens. Every major city would get our description.  Unless we plan on shaving our heads and changing our names to something like Max or Seth, how the heck would we even survive? Besides that would mean traveling through the forest and I don't want to be out there with those freaking pumas."

His older brother shuddered and then nodded once, rubbing his hand through his blond hair.

"I guess that means tomorrow we'll go face an army we both thought wasn't real.  I mean... Why hasn't Sir Asshole talked about them more? Aren't they worried about how we might react when we get there and find out?"

"No... it makes sense.  If they wait till then, we're there and fleeing the army would be much harder.  At that point what else can we do but fight.  I... no we both know if you had to trick people like us, this is the way."

Smacking his tongue against his teeth a few times, Michael nodded as he poked at the smoked meat with his fork.  

"Kind of makes me not hungry."

"And yet we're both going to eat it all because we know that it will be a long time before we see this kind of food again."

"True," the older brother stated. "Still... know that you've always been my favorite brother."

Acting shocked, Francis leaned back against the wall, his mouth open as he winked.

"Not your favorite sibling?"

"God no, Isabella is so much better than you."

Each of them chuckled and then took another bite, able to enjoy the meal a little more and knowing that tomorrow would change everything.

***

"Look out there men! That is where you shall try to earn glory!"

Long steady lines of wagons ran both ways toward the horde of troops stationed in a clearing.  Brown tents were set in rows upon rows, numbering in the thousands and further back were larger tents until one that looked like it was at least a quarter mile long rose up above them all.  The Wolf banner furled in the wind, red and gold coloring the white fabric that showed where the King was.

Along the widened road other carts were like theirs, young men, all wearing leather armor, each with a sword and wooden buckler, being transported by a pair of horses.

Five days of traveling to get here.  And now...

Glancing across the other side of the clearing where the forest almost seemed cut away as if by magic was black and blue tents that looked like a sea of fabric.  Far off in the distance a silver and gold tent shimmered in the afternoon sun, marking where the leader or whoever was in charge of this army was.

"Tens of thousands.... maybe a hundred thousand or more."

Someone had said what Francis and everyone else was thinking.

In the air black smoke billowed up from the battle field and carrion birds were swooping down, a dark cloud that shifted and moved as they came to enjoy the spoils of battle.

Sniffing, Francis rubbed his nose.

You can smell the burnt flesh... How many have died?

"Don't be afraid, men! Reports say that we have almost defeated the enemy! A few more pushes and the entire kingdom will be in your debt! Think about the glory and honor you will earn your families by serving but think about this even more!"

A smirk, that bastardly smirk that Phillip always had when something good was going to be said appeared.

"If you survive, think about how much fun it will be to return home and demand a share of the rewards the king has promised to any family whose son serves here! Think about the look on each of your fathers faces as they have to hand gold over to you and acknowledge you have earned it.  Never forget that moment when you prove to them that you are worth more than they ever imagined!"

A few cheers came at first and then more joined as the thought of that moment set in.

Even with everyone being nervous, each of them knew that longing.  The desire to prove they weren't nothing more than an accident.

To stand out above the chosen three... that would be...

Words couldn't describe how Francis felt.  All he knew was there wasn't much he desired more than that.

***

"Four to a tent this size? What do they want us to do? Spoon with each other?"

Gregory and Henry both chuckled at Michael's comment.  They were brothers from a lesser noble and being numbers six and seven meant even less as their family only handled fabric, taking what was produced like many and creating what the kingdom needed.

"I'm not sure what you do in your family, but we're not looking for that," Gregory stated.  

He was the sixth son, tall, dark hair, brown eyes and about as muscular as Michael.  

Henry was only a few inches shorter but was stocky, somehow looking almost exactly like his brother in the face but his body seemed like he hadn't missed a meal.

"I think we're supposed to get settled and meet at the mess tent.  After that we wait around until the horn sounds," Francis said. "Though Phillip didn't say when that might happen."

"But we know we're on this side," Henry said as he pointed to the left flank.  "It's not in the middle which is good but we're still kind of near the front.  I mean look at the number of tents behind us."

"Yeah, those are all the fifth sons," Michael joked as he tossed his bag inside the tent.  "Drop your stuff, keep your weapons and shields.  We need to go."

The four moved through the maze of tents, keeping note of the tall poles that marked each section.

Red, yellow, orange, red, yellow, orange... seventh row back.

Mentally having marked their section in his head, he strode toward the circle of brown flags that sat atop the poles which marked where food could be acquired.  

Even if one wasn't certain the smell of something being cooked should work, provided the wind blew the right way.  

***

"Ger yer bowl and spoon! Lose it and pay for it!"

Each of them took the items provided by the skinny man at the line who was missing about seven teeth.  His hair looked greasy and Francis couldn't help but wonder about his appearance.

"If he looks that bad, what is this food going to do to us?"

Michael chuckled and pointed at the larger man pouring something into the bowls of the soldiers in line before them.

"I think that one eats the other one's food."

Both were laughing until they got close and held out their bowl.

A mush of something gray with chunks that were brown filled their bowls.

"This aint the palace, so don't ask for seconds or what it is! Next!"

Francis felt his brother pushing him from behind and carefully poked his spoon into the mixture, watching as it seemed to grab hold of the wooden utensil and not let go.

"Look at those guys, they're sucking it down," Michael stated as he pointed with his spoon.

Sure enough a group of six soldiers were holding the bowls up to their mouths, using their spoons to shovel it in as they swallowed.

"I don't think they're even chewing."

"Macenburg men! To me!"

Their foursome turned and saw Phillip standing on a small tree stump, his eyes locked on them.

"Looks like we've been saved," Gregory announced as he started moving that way.

"What in the four kingdoms are you fools doing? Eat up! You need the bonus it provides!"

The four of them glanced at the others from their original seventeen, all bobbing their heads, empty bowls in hand.

"Here goes nothing," Francis muttered as he mimicked what he had seen, lifting the bowl up and tipping it toward his mouth.  

Shoveling the goop in, he tasted nothing at first and then suddenly it transformed into a watermelon taste.  Like a really fresh watermelon.  Memories of his childhood and how he had managed to liberate a few from a person in their father's land.

Before  he knew it the bowl was empty and a message appeared.

[ Well Fed - 1439 Minutes Remaining ]

[ + 1 Strength ]

[ +1 Endurance ]

"What in the kingdoms? A bonus for eating this?"

"Aye you sheet stains! What army wouldn't be smart enough to use magical power to keep an army fed.  One meal a day and the bonus to stats! Now stop acting like idiots and making me look bad.  We got three more to wait on and then it is time to prepare for what's coming."

"What's that sir?" Malcomb asked.

His voice had changed from the missing teeth and it took a little bit of willpower to not laugh at the man.

"Tomorrow we fight.  So when everyone is here you will follow me. I need to show you lot something."