South; “go south,” they said, “plenty of gold” they said – sure as sure they were screwing with us. The lads and I went south as planned and we lost ten of our own to just not wanting to fight so far south where it is ungodly hot – they just disappeared at night and took their gear with them (they should have at least had the decency to say goodbye – I’m not hiring those cunts again). Down to thirty we kept going until grass became sand and the sun was so hot I swear the armor felt less protective than naked skin and loin cloths (I still kept my jerkin on – getting slashed by a good cut means I’ll have no work afterwards).
Some lord calling himself: “the Magistrate” hired us to protect some wagons going to an army camp; and here I was thinking it was a war they were waging (though despite what I said earlier about gold being a lie, he paid a lot). Looking at the Magistrate’s troops all they cared about was drinking and whoring (some soldiers they turned out to be) – nevertheless we were paid to protect so protect we did. Some bandits decided to try their luck and I decided that their heads would fly farther if I cut faster – I lost that bet to me own lads and ended up emptying a purse because of it.
I mean sure I should appreciate the calm guard duties, but I wanted to fight! Here I was guarding who knows what in those wagons and some thirty of us marching alongside another twelve soldiers belonging to the city-lord which I felt were there for show – total overkill for a handful of wagons going to an army camp.
We reached the place and the supposed: “logistics officer” paid us with a chest. Afterwards he offered us more work fighting in a battle that was in a few days; I spoke to the lads and they said “sure” so I said sure.
When we went to “war” it was pitiful – the opposition were a bunch of farmers with pitchforks while our patron fielded enough infantry in heavy armour to make the earth sink a few inches. Those farmers stood no chance and by nightfall we didn’t even bother to look over the dead of the enemy for goods to take home (though the dead on our side were fair game – no one was going to look over corpses so a few helmets, swords, coin purses – the usual goodies).
Good thing we did; the officer decided that because the enemy was no threat that our pay could be less – rather than argue I took the small sack of coin and hurried off to the armoury. Now why would I do that? Simple, we Sellswords need to be paid, and if you don’t pay up, we’ll get paid via supplies – couple of swords, some more helmets, some armour, and of course a pile of food so we can save coin from having to purchase our own.
Hopefully the man didn’t notice – not like their war was going badly so I figured we take our share as: “the good lord’s soldiers” and be on our way.
Sand and cheap paymasters – think I’ll take the lads back up north; they pay better at least.