“As is often the case, most mercenary companies without a permanent base took their followers and families along with them wherever they went, with their families often also being part of their camp followers and support staff. Many children were born and raised in such a setting, who later grew up and often joined the business themselves. These in turn would have their own children, perpetuating the cycle onwards through generations.” - Excerpt from “The Life and Times of Mercenaries: A Dissertation” by Sedgewick Fenton, Sociology researcher from the Levain Institute of Higher Learning, Circa 411 FP.
“Welcome to the Free Lances,” said Reinhardt as he welcomed Soledad and her band that evening at their encampment outside the western gate of Dvergarder. He was accompanied by many of his lieutenant amongst the lances, amongst which were Lars, Elfriede, Salicia, Mischka, Nicole, and others.
Two of the newer lieutenants were like Mischka, formerly captain or commander of their own company, before they decided to join a larger one for various reasons. Egil of the Yellowtooth Tribe was once part of a large mixed mercenary company called the Rimmon’s Ravagers which got devastated during the Clangeddin civil wars, and had brought the last thirty or so survivors of his units in search of jobs when Reinhart met him three years ago.
His unit was entirely composed of goblins like him, and most of them were slingers and skirmishers, with a few scouts. They had proven to be a valuable auxiliary component to the Free Lances in the past few years, and the goblin himself made fast friends with nearly everyone, especially with Ylisera over their shared love of fucking.
Fatimah ibn Haimool on the other hand, was a visitor from the southern continent, who had taken her small company of fifty to Alcidea when she caught wind of the ongoing conflicts there, after she inherited its leadership from her late father. Several years and many close calls for her company made her realize that her band was simply too small to survive on its own in the turmoil, and she had applied to join the Free Lances with her band around two years ago.
Soledad had dismounted as she entered the encampment, and most of her group had led their horses and wagons where their followers and dependents were to the living area. The woman herself met Reinhardt along with a similarly aged half-orcish man, and both accepted the welcome from the company.
“A pleasure to be here, Captain,” said the woman with a smile. She seemed like the sort who wore her feelings on her sleeves, from the short acquaintance Reinhardt had with her. “This is my husband, Anatoli of Clan Fleetstride. He leads our light cavalry contingent.”
“Nice to meet you. This is my wife Elfriede, and those are my lieutenants…” said Reinhardt as he introduced the rest of the command crew in turn. Anatoli seemed like a typical stoic, rugged warrior type that mostly stereotyped the orcish part of his heritage, and calmly shook hands with everyone.
Ever since the failed crusades two centuries ago, the orcs of the northern plains had began to become a more common sight in the nations of Alcidea, as curious young orcs left behind the plains they lived in to see the “outside world” for themselves, sometimes living their entire lives that way.
The mother of his late friend Kasimir was one such orc. Anatoli was likely descended from another, given his thick orcish blood, as while those wandering orcs often left children behind, their blood often thinned over generations. Anatoli’s features hinted of him being a first-generation descendant of a wanderer.
“Oh, and that bookworm there is our son Juan…” the woman trailed off when a young boy, maybe eight or nine years of age dressed in a robe rushed over to look for her. Then a thought came to her mind and her brows furrowed with consternation. “Wait a moment. Juan? Where is your sister?”
“That’s why I’m looking for you, mom!” said the boy with some urgency in his voice. He panted to catch his breath for a moment, clearly not one used to intense physical activities, before he finally continued his words. “Sis took off to look for the local kids. Again.”
“Oh… bugger,” cursed Soledad as she covered her face with the callused palm of her hand.
“What’s wrong?” Reinhardt asked her out of curiosity.
“I have to beg your apology beforehand, Captain,” said the woman with an exasperated sigh. “You see, my daughter Valeria was very close to her late grandfather, my father-in-law. She was fascinated with his tales of life in the Orcish plains.”
“Because of that, practically every town we’ve been to, she would seek out the local kid and have a brawl with them to set up a pecking order,” she added as she shook her head. “I scolded her many times but she had never grown out of that habit. I’m really sorry. I didn’t expect her to do this the moment we got here.”
To her surprise, Reinhardt and the rest of his group laughed heartily at her apology, with some even laughing so hard until they wheezed for breath. Egil even rolled on and pounded the ground as he held his stomach in throes of laughter.
“Haah, no worries, no worries. Kids will be kids,” said Reinhardt as he wiped a tear from laughing too much. “Just let the kids sort things out between themselves.”
******************************
Valeria de Guzman-Fleetstride walked through the mercenary camp partly impressed by the size of the city of tents and wagons where they lived. She asked some young children about whoever was the “boss” of the local kids, and found that the very first kid she asked knew what she was talking about.
She followed the pretty blonde little girl - couldn’t be more than five or six years of age, she thought - towards a small hill a short distance away from the camp. On the top of the hill grew a large tree, one that grew taller than all the buildings she had seen in her life, and around its roots, were a large group of around two dozen children of various races.
Amongst them were at least half a dozen children around her age from larger breeds of therians, who towered over her in size and bulk, playfully wrestling against each other. Some of the other kids were younger, while others were older. The oldest and tallest kid of the bunch, an elven mixed-breed girl of maybe fourteen or fifteen with a large scar over her left eye, walked towards them as she noticed her approach.
“Heya, lil’ Aly. What’s up? And who’s this one?” she asked with familiarity to the small girl that brought Valeria there.
“I dunno, she’s looking for big sis, sister Ayrie,” said the young girl in reply.
“Ah, another one, eh? Come along, I’ll take you to the little boss,” said Ayrie with a smile as she beckoned Valeria to follow her.
The part-elven girl led her to the tree where a trio of human children - two of whom looked so similar Valeria pegged them as siblings - entertained a child even younger than the girl who brought her there in the first place.
“Yo, little boss! You got another challenger!” shouted the part-elven girl once they reached the tree, upwards at the canopy.
“As is often the case, most mercenary companies without a permanent base took their followers and families along with them wherever they went, with their families often also being part of their camp followers and support staff. Many children were born and raised in such a setting, who later grew up and often joined the business themselves. These in turn would have their own children, perpetuating the cycle onwards through generations.” - Excerpt from “The Life and Times of Mercenaries: A Dissertation” by Sedgewick Fenton, Sociology researcher from the Levain Institute of Higher Learning, Circa 411 FP.
“Welcome to the Free Lances,” said Reinhardt as he welcomed Soledad and her band that evening at their encampment outside the western gate of Dvergarder. He was accompanied by many of his lieutenant amongst the lances, amongst which were Lars, Elfriede, Salicia, Mischka, Nicole, and others.
Two of the newer lieutenants were like Mischka, formerly captain or commander of their own company, before they decided to join a larger one for various reasons. Egil of the Yellowtooth Tribe was once part of a large mixed mercenary company called the Rimmon’s Ravagers which got devastated during the Clangeddin civil wars, and had brought the last thirty or so survivors of his units in search of jobs when Reinhart met him three years ago.
His unit was entirely composed of goblins like him, and most of them were slingers and skirmishers, with a few scouts. They had proven to be a valuable auxiliary component to the Free Lances in the past few years, and the goblin himself made fast friends with nearly everyone, especially with Ylisera over their shared love of fucking.
Fatimah ibn Haimool on the other hand, was a visitor from the southern continent, who had taken her small company of fifty to Alcidea when she caught wind of the ongoing conflicts there, after she inherited its leadership from her late father. Several years and many close calls for her company made her realize that her band was simply too small to survive on its own in the turmoil, and she had applied to join the Free Lances with her band around two years ago.
Soledad had dismounted as she entered the encampment, and most of her group had led their horses and wagons where their followers and dependents were to the living area. The woman herself met Reinhardt along with a similarly aged half-orcish man, and both accepted the welcome from the company.
“A pleasure to be here, Captain,” said the woman with a smile. She seemed like the sort who wore her feelings on her sleeves, from the short acquaintance Reinhardt had with her. “This is my husband, Anatoli of Clan Fleetstride. He leads our light cavalry contingent.”
“Nice to meet you. This is my wife Elfriede, and those are my lieutenants…” said Reinhardt as he introduced the rest of the command crew in turn. Anatoli seemed like a typical stoic, rugged warrior type that mostly stereotyped the orcish part of his heritage, and calmly shook hands with everyone.
Ever since the failed crusades two centuries ago, the orcs of the northern plains had began to become a more common sight in the nations of Alcidea, as curious young orcs left behind the plains they lived in to see the “outside world” for themselves, sometimes living their entire lives that way.
The mother of his late friend Kasimir was one such orc. Anatoli was likely descended from another, given his thick orcish blood, as while those wandering orcs often left children behind, their blood often thinned over generations. Anatoli’s features hinted of him being a first-generation descendant of a wanderer.
“Oh, and that bookworm there is our son Juan…” the woman trailed off when a young boy, maybe eight or nine years of age dressed in a robe rushed over to look for her. Then a thought came to her mind and her brows furrowed with consternation. “Wait a moment. Juan? Where is your sister?”
“That’s why I’m looking for you, mom!” said the boy with some urgency in his voice. He panted to catch his breath for a moment, clearly not one used to intense physical activities, before he finally continued his words. “Sis took off to look for the local kids. Again.”
“Oh… bugger,” cursed Soledad as she covered her face with the callused palm of her hand.
“What’s wrong?” Reinhardt asked her out of curiosity.
“I have to beg your apology beforehand, Captain,” said the woman with an exasperated sigh. “You see, my daughter Valeria was very close to her late grandfather, my father-in-law. She was fascinated with his tales of life in the Orcish plains.”
“Because of that, practically every town we’ve been to, she would seek out the local kid and have a brawl with them to set up a pecking order,” she added as she shook her head. “I scolded her many times but she had never grown out of that habit. I’m really sorry. I didn’t expect her to do this the moment we got here.”
To her surprise, Reinhardt and the rest of his group laughed heartily at her apology, with some even laughing so hard until they wheezed for breath. Egil even rolled on and pounded the ground as he held his stomach in throes of laughter.
“Haah, no worries, no worries. Kids will be kids,” said Reinhardt as he wiped a tear from laughing too much. “Just let the kids sort things out between themselves.”
******************************
Valeria de Guzman-Fleetstride walked through the mercenary camp partly impressed by the size of the city of tents and wagons where they lived. She asked some young children about whoever was the “boss” of the local kids, and found that the very first kid she asked knew what she was talking about.
She followed the pretty blonde little girl - couldn’t be more than five or six years of age, she thought - towards a small hill a short distance away from the camp. On the top of the hill grew a large tree, one that grew taller than all the buildings she had seen in her life, and around its roots, were a large group of around two dozen children of various races.
Amongst them were at least half a dozen children around her age from larger breeds of therians, who towered over her in size and bulk, playfully wrestling against each other. Some of the other kids were younger, while others were older. The oldest and tallest kid of the bunch, an elven mixed-breed girl of maybe fourteen or fifteen with a large scar over her left eye, walked towards them as she noticed her approach.
“Heya, lil’ Aly. What’s up? And who’s this one?” she asked with familiarity to the small girl that brought Valeria there.
“I dunno, she’s looking for big sis, sister Ayrie,” said the young girl in reply.
“Ah, another one, eh? Come along, I’ll take you to the little boss,” said Ayrie with a smile as she beckoned Valeria to follow her.
The part-elven girl led her to the tree where a trio of human children - two of whom looked so similar Valeria pegged them as siblings - entertained a child even younger than the girl who brought her there in the first place.
“Yo, little boss! You got another challenger!” shouted the part-elven girl once they reached the tree, upwards at the canopy.
