Ple-Sen
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It didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, but oh well. I'll die first anyway. I might change the Commander perks later. And thanks to Героист for the table I stole from his post!
The light of the oil lamps illuminated the small room where two people were currently present. The first was an imposing Deutzian, with fair hair and a bushy but well-groomed beard. He looked to be easily around fifty years old. Apparently, he had been waiting for someone for some time. The second was a black-haired Yagensdorfian, who could barely be twenty years old. The young man's gaze made it easy to tell that he was in this place for the first time.
— So, you're the new recruit I was told about? — the Deutzian's question was an empty formality. He understood perfectly well that his interlocutor could be no one else.
— Exactly, — the Yagensdorfian nodded politely. — Aldrik von Falkenrath. Pleased to meet you.
— Likewise, Klaus Messer.
Sealing the acquaintance with a handshake, the men moved on to more important matters.
— I think you've already been told that I need to assess the level of your combat training. However, along the way, I'd also like to ask you a few questions. I hope that won't make you uncomfortable?
— Not at all. The reasons for this desire of yours are quite understandable.
— Excellent! — Klaus's face lit up with a smile. Throwing open the door leading to a long corridor, the giant beckoned the young man to follow. — And you, well, relax. I may look intimidating, but I don't bite.
— I'll try. So, what did you want to ask me?
— First of all, what made you want to join the "Pack"? I don't want to seem rude, but you reek of Yagensdorf. Not just your accent, but your manner of speech, the way you carry yourself... that's more typical of Knights than mercenaries. So what could a representative of the nobility possibly want with us? No need to go into details if it's something personal. You don't have to say anything at all. But I'd be curious to hear the answer to this question.
— To be honest, I expected something like this. And the answer, in fact, is simple — I need money. As for the reason for this need, — Aldrik took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, — that's more complicated. I'll be blunt, I don't have a strong desire to go into details. But I suppose it's worth telling you about it, at least briefly. As a result of, how to put it mildly, some not-so-wise decisions by my father, he's now rotting away in some foreign land, while we pay for his debts. Debts that cost us our social standing and, no less importantly, our reputation. That's the whole story, without unnecessary details.
The young man's honesty seemed to surprise Klaus somewhat. Given Aldrik's previous reticence, he had probably expected a shorter answer.
— Heh, I don't even know what to say, I can only offer my sympathies.
— That's quite enough. I was just answering your question, — the young man said distantly. — Are there any other questions?
— Actually, yes. There are. What do you plan to do once you've paid off the debts? Do you hope to restore your family's name?
— I'm a realist; I don't even count on anything like that. I don't look that far into the future. First, I need to at least get back on my feet and deal with the immediate problems. Then I'll see.
Klaus chuckled.
— Remarkable modesty, for a nobleman!
— I'll take that as a compliment, — the giant's reaction didn't impress Aldrik too much. — Anything else?
— Sorry, couldn't help myself. Yes, I have one more question for you. Why did you choose our squad specifically, and not some other one?
— Because, based on my information, I considered the "Pack" the most reasonable choice. Factors such as a good reputation, a decent track reco... — the Yagensdorfian began to list, but was almost immediately stopped by his interlocutor.
— No need. I understand you. Besides, — Klaus pointed his palm at the door that had appeared before them, — we're here.
The new room was significantly larger than the previous one. Which is hardly surprising, given the furnishings, as they were now in a training hall. To Aldrik's surprise, there were hardly any people here. The only person inside, besides the two of them, was a fair-haired girl. She looked about his age, perhaps a couple of years younger. And, judging by the fact that she was diligently continuing to beat a training dummy with a practice sword, the arrival of Klaus and Aldrik either went unnoticed or simply didn't concern her.
— Reinhild, — the giant addressed the girl, but his words were met only with dead silence. — Reinhild!
The man had to shout several more times before the young swordswoman finally paid him any attention. Judging by her look, the presence of other people in the hall was a surprise to her.
— Sorry, Uncle Klaus, I was completely absorbed in training.
— Training is important, of course, but it's equally important to stay alert! — the Deutzian frowned and raised his index finger importantly. — What would have happened if it weren't me with the new recruit, but a couple of bandits?
— A couple of corpses on the floor, I suppose, — Reinhild's tone seemed surprisingly indifferent to Aldrik.
— Oh, you little brat, — Klaus laughed and ruffled his niece's hair. — If you're so eager for battle, I have just the right task for you. This young lad here, goes by the name of Aldrik von Falkenrath, wants to become part of our squad. And I want you to have a sparring match with him. No corpses on the floor! Well, with a training sword, although... no, you could do it even with that.
— I could, — the girl confirmed her uncle's words.
Aldrik was, at the very least, surprised by the dialogue unfolding between Klaus and Reinhild, so much so that he didn't even know if he should say anything.
— Here, — the Deutzian woman interrupted the Yagensdorfian's thoughts, handing him a training sword, — I hope you know how to use it.
The young man was somewhat taken aback by such insolence, but his manners prevented him from responding in kind. Instead, he coldly thanked his opponent:
— Thank you for your concern.
Armed, Aldrik and Reinhild stood opposite each other, awaiting Klaus's command to start the duel. Someone else in the Yagensdorfian's place would have been filled with a desire to show his opponent that she was wrong to underestimate him. He himself, however, understood perfectly well that the Deutzian's self-confidence did not come from nowhere. Moreover, such an attitude on her part did not guarantee that she wouldn't put in extra effort. Quite the opposite — the focused look in his opponent's eyes said otherwise.
— Begin.
No sooner had Klaus given the command than Reinhild immediately launched herself forward and went on the offensive. Aldrik barely managed to dodge the girl's strike. However, the first attack was followed by a second. The second was followed by a third. With each blow from his opponent, holding the defense became more and more difficult. And then, it seemed, the long-awaited moment had arrived — a coveted gap in her defense, an opportunity to seize the initiative. But the counterattack was not destined to succeed — the Yagensdorfian's weapon only slightly grazed the Deutzian, after which she resumed her onslaught. Aldrik could not hold out against such an opponent for long, and over time, more and more blows bypassed his defense. The winner of the fight was clear, and not wanting to prolong the duel, Klaus gave the signal to stop.
— Was hoping for more, but it'll do, — the Deutzian woman concluded, breathing heavily, in response to which she caught her uncle's disapproving look.
— Reinhild, — the veteran cleared his throat, — actually, the decision is mine to make. Although I can't say you're that far off the mark. The lad's fit to be a mercenary, though I did expect something more from a Yagensdorfian Knight.
The young man wasn't sure what to make of the Messers' behavior. Whether it was a lack of tact, quite typical for mercenaries, or if they had decided to test not only his skills, but also the strength of his nerves.
— I'd like to note that I was taught not only how to handle a sword, but also how to lead people and conduct myself properly in society. A Knight's life doesn't consist solely of battles. And a squire's life even less so.
— Well, you won't be leading people anytime soon, I can guarantee you that. Any fool can command, blue blood or not, — Klaus laughed and clapped Aldrik on the shoulder. — Besides, I didn't deny that you can fight. No need to make excuses.
— Perhaps. I apologize.
— Oh, none of that needed. We're not touchy here. Right, Reinhild?
In response to her uncle's words, the girl said nothing and merely shrugged indifferently.
— Once you catch your breath, I'll show you where everything is. Welcome to the "Pack", Aldrik!
Six years later
The clang of steel on steel and the cries of dying men filled the surrounding area. The battlefield was littered with the corpses of both Heckelian soldiers and mercenaries. And with every minute, the number of casualties only grew. The torn banner of the "Pack", like a shroud, covered Aldrik's mutilated body, as he could only helplessly watch the course of the battle. Everything was supposed to have turned out completely differently. Victory should already have been in their hands. Instead, most of the squad would never see the light of day again. The remaining living members, those still able to stand and fight, were desperately fending off enemy attacks. And the fact that the Heckelian forces were also at their limit did not inspire much hope. It was all over. For him, and for the "Pack".
Coming to his senses, Aldrik, to his surprise, found himself not on the battlefield, surrounded by the corpses of his comrades. He found himself in a bed, in a small but cozy room. Someone had carefully treated and bandaged his wounds. And although his body still ached with pain, death no longer threatened him. On a chair opposite him, like a watchful guard dog, sat Reinhild. Unlike the Yagensdorfian, the Deutzian woman's body had hardly any wounds. The bags under her eyes and the exhausted expression on her face spoke volumes about how poorly she had slept.
— So we did win after all, — Aldrik concluded. But there was no joy in his voice.
— We didn't win, — Reinhild shook her head negatively, — we survived. Only a few people, including you and me.
— Klaus?
— Died on the battlefield. As befits a warrior, — the girl replied after a long pause. — Now it's just you and me.
— My condolences, — Aldrik could hardly imagine how she must be feeling right now. Even though he had lost his father in a similar way, their relationship had never been particularly close. Klaus, despite the strange decision to drag his niece into the mercenary business, cared for her. And, as far as the young man knew, was her only living relative. He felt obligated to somehow support Reinhild, but didn't even know how to begin. — If you ever want to talk about it, or just need to vent, I'm always here.
— Thanks, Al, — the mercenary smiled sadly. — To tell the truth, I've been preparing myself for something like this for a long time. In our line of work, going into battle at such a young age is pure suicide. But you know us Messers. We're stubborn as mules. At least I can console myself with the fact that my uncle died the way he always wanted — on the battlefield, not from old age or illness.
The pair spent the rest of the day reminiscing about various stories involving Klaus himself as well as their other fallen comrades. Gradually, the feeling of sadness gave way to a feeling of nostalgia. And although the regrets themselves hadn't gone anywhere, Aldrik and Reinhild greeted the new day in a more uplifted spirit.
Four years later
After the "Pack" met its unfortunate end, Aldrik and Reinhild decided to travel around Tiaral. They had more than enough savings for such a trip. Besides, they both wanted a rest from the horrors of war. Currently, the pair were staying in Celia.
— Reinhild, — the Yagensdorfian dropped three sugar cubes into his cup of tea and carefully stirred its contents, — I'd like to talk to you about something.
The Deutzian woman, who had been chewing on a cabbage pie and looking thoughtfully out the window, slowly turned towards the man and raised an eyebrow questioningly:
— M?
— As you may have already noticed, the situation in Tiaral is far from stable. Military conflicts between countries are flaring up more and more often. And with each passing month, these conflicts become more and more serious. Soon, traveling across the continent will become completely unsafe. At the same time, although we still have a considerable portion of our funds, it won't last us a lifetime, — the man paused briefly, — so, I'm thinking about forming a mercenary squad.
— You're thinking about it, but not completely sure yet?
— Exactly. It would require a certain investment on our part, after all. Not to mention the risks of mercenary work, which we know all too well. And while I have no doubt about your ability to defend yourself, I have some doubts about my own. I was a fairly mediocre swordsman even before, and after losing an eye, I've become even worse.
— Well, — Reinhild grinned slyly, — I wouldn't say it's affected your skills with all types of swords.
The unexpectedness of such a phrase caused Aldrik, who was drinking his tea at that very moment, to choke:
— I hope that if I form a squad, you'll refrain from such jokes in front of my subordinates.
— Maybe, — the Deutzian woman drawled mysteriously. — As for your idea, I'm not against it. You seem to be aware of the potential risks yourself. And I can't argue with you about the situation on the continent. Besides, I've already started to miss the practice a bit. Just tell me one thing, Al, you're not planning to create a second "Pack", are you?
— Not at all, — the Yagensdorfian shook his head negatively. — This is purely a way to earn money, not an attempt to bring back the past.
— That's reassuring. And what will our "not-the-Pack" be called?
— The "Iron Hearts".
Reinhild frowned uncertainly:
— You could have come up with something better.
The light of the oil lamps illuminated the small room where two people were currently present. The first was an imposing Deutzian, with fair hair and a bushy but well-groomed beard. He looked to be easily around fifty years old. Apparently, he had been waiting for someone for some time. The second was a black-haired Yagensdorfian, who could barely be twenty years old. The young man's gaze made it easy to tell that he was in this place for the first time.
— So, you're the new recruit I was told about? — the Deutzian's question was an empty formality. He understood perfectly well that his interlocutor could be no one else.
— Exactly, — the Yagensdorfian nodded politely. — Aldrik von Falkenrath. Pleased to meet you.
— Likewise, Klaus Messer.
Sealing the acquaintance with a handshake, the men moved on to more important matters.
— I think you've already been told that I need to assess the level of your combat training. However, along the way, I'd also like to ask you a few questions. I hope that won't make you uncomfortable?
— Not at all. The reasons for this desire of yours are quite understandable.
— Excellent! — Klaus's face lit up with a smile. Throwing open the door leading to a long corridor, the giant beckoned the young man to follow. — And you, well, relax. I may look intimidating, but I don't bite.
— I'll try. So, what did you want to ask me?
— First of all, what made you want to join the "Pack"? I don't want to seem rude, but you reek of Yagensdorf. Not just your accent, but your manner of speech, the way you carry yourself... that's more typical of Knights than mercenaries. So what could a representative of the nobility possibly want with us? No need to go into details if it's something personal. You don't have to say anything at all. But I'd be curious to hear the answer to this question.
— To be honest, I expected something like this. And the answer, in fact, is simple — I need money. As for the reason for this need, — Aldrik took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, — that's more complicated. I'll be blunt, I don't have a strong desire to go into details. But I suppose it's worth telling you about it, at least briefly. As a result of, how to put it mildly, some not-so-wise decisions by my father, he's now rotting away in some foreign land, while we pay for his debts. Debts that cost us our social standing and, no less importantly, our reputation. That's the whole story, without unnecessary details.
The young man's honesty seemed to surprise Klaus somewhat. Given Aldrik's previous reticence, he had probably expected a shorter answer.
— Heh, I don't even know what to say, I can only offer my sympathies.
— That's quite enough. I was just answering your question, — the young man said distantly. — Are there any other questions?
— Actually, yes. There are. What do you plan to do once you've paid off the debts? Do you hope to restore your family's name?
— I'm a realist; I don't even count on anything like that. I don't look that far into the future. First, I need to at least get back on my feet and deal with the immediate problems. Then I'll see.
Klaus chuckled.
— Remarkable modesty, for a nobleman!
— I'll take that as a compliment, — the giant's reaction didn't impress Aldrik too much. — Anything else?
— Sorry, couldn't help myself. Yes, I have one more question for you. Why did you choose our squad specifically, and not some other one?
— Because, based on my information, I considered the "Pack" the most reasonable choice. Factors such as a good reputation, a decent track reco... — the Yagensdorfian began to list, but was almost immediately stopped by his interlocutor.
— No need. I understand you. Besides, — Klaus pointed his palm at the door that had appeared before them, — we're here.
The new room was significantly larger than the previous one. Which is hardly surprising, given the furnishings, as they were now in a training hall. To Aldrik's surprise, there were hardly any people here. The only person inside, besides the two of them, was a fair-haired girl. She looked about his age, perhaps a couple of years younger. And, judging by the fact that she was diligently continuing to beat a training dummy with a practice sword, the arrival of Klaus and Aldrik either went unnoticed or simply didn't concern her.
— Reinhild, — the giant addressed the girl, but his words were met only with dead silence. — Reinhild!
The man had to shout several more times before the young swordswoman finally paid him any attention. Judging by her look, the presence of other people in the hall was a surprise to her.
— Sorry, Uncle Klaus, I was completely absorbed in training.
— Training is important, of course, but it's equally important to stay alert! — the Deutzian frowned and raised his index finger importantly. — What would have happened if it weren't me with the new recruit, but a couple of bandits?
— A couple of corpses on the floor, I suppose, — Reinhild's tone seemed surprisingly indifferent to Aldrik.
— Oh, you little brat, — Klaus laughed and ruffled his niece's hair. — If you're so eager for battle, I have just the right task for you. This young lad here, goes by the name of Aldrik von Falkenrath, wants to become part of our squad. And I want you to have a sparring match with him. No corpses on the floor! Well, with a training sword, although... no, you could do it even with that.
— I could, — the girl confirmed her uncle's words.
Aldrik was, at the very least, surprised by the dialogue unfolding between Klaus and Reinhild, so much so that he didn't even know if he should say anything.
— Here, — the Deutzian woman interrupted the Yagensdorfian's thoughts, handing him a training sword, — I hope you know how to use it.
The young man was somewhat taken aback by such insolence, but his manners prevented him from responding in kind. Instead, he coldly thanked his opponent:
— Thank you for your concern.
Armed, Aldrik and Reinhild stood opposite each other, awaiting Klaus's command to start the duel. Someone else in the Yagensdorfian's place would have been filled with a desire to show his opponent that she was wrong to underestimate him. He himself, however, understood perfectly well that the Deutzian's self-confidence did not come from nowhere. Moreover, such an attitude on her part did not guarantee that she wouldn't put in extra effort. Quite the opposite — the focused look in his opponent's eyes said otherwise.
— Begin.
No sooner had Klaus given the command than Reinhild immediately launched herself forward and went on the offensive. Aldrik barely managed to dodge the girl's strike. However, the first attack was followed by a second. The second was followed by a third. With each blow from his opponent, holding the defense became more and more difficult. And then, it seemed, the long-awaited moment had arrived — a coveted gap in her defense, an opportunity to seize the initiative. But the counterattack was not destined to succeed — the Yagensdorfian's weapon only slightly grazed the Deutzian, after which she resumed her onslaught. Aldrik could not hold out against such an opponent for long, and over time, more and more blows bypassed his defense. The winner of the fight was clear, and not wanting to prolong the duel, Klaus gave the signal to stop.
— Was hoping for more, but it'll do, — the Deutzian woman concluded, breathing heavily, in response to which she caught her uncle's disapproving look.
— Reinhild, — the veteran cleared his throat, — actually, the decision is mine to make. Although I can't say you're that far off the mark. The lad's fit to be a mercenary, though I did expect something more from a Yagensdorfian Knight.
The young man wasn't sure what to make of the Messers' behavior. Whether it was a lack of tact, quite typical for mercenaries, or if they had decided to test not only his skills, but also the strength of his nerves.
— I'd like to note that I was taught not only how to handle a sword, but also how to lead people and conduct myself properly in society. A Knight's life doesn't consist solely of battles. And a squire's life even less so.
— Well, you won't be leading people anytime soon, I can guarantee you that. Any fool can command, blue blood or not, — Klaus laughed and clapped Aldrik on the shoulder. — Besides, I didn't deny that you can fight. No need to make excuses.
— Perhaps. I apologize.
— Oh, none of that needed. We're not touchy here. Right, Reinhild?
In response to her uncle's words, the girl said nothing and merely shrugged indifferently.
— Once you catch your breath, I'll show you where everything is. Welcome to the "Pack", Aldrik!
Six years later
The clang of steel on steel and the cries of dying men filled the surrounding area. The battlefield was littered with the corpses of both Heckelian soldiers and mercenaries. And with every minute, the number of casualties only grew. The torn banner of the "Pack", like a shroud, covered Aldrik's mutilated body, as he could only helplessly watch the course of the battle. Everything was supposed to have turned out completely differently. Victory should already have been in their hands. Instead, most of the squad would never see the light of day again. The remaining living members, those still able to stand and fight, were desperately fending off enemy attacks. And the fact that the Heckelian forces were also at their limit did not inspire much hope. It was all over. For him, and for the "Pack".
Coming to his senses, Aldrik, to his surprise, found himself not on the battlefield, surrounded by the corpses of his comrades. He found himself in a bed, in a small but cozy room. Someone had carefully treated and bandaged his wounds. And although his body still ached with pain, death no longer threatened him. On a chair opposite him, like a watchful guard dog, sat Reinhild. Unlike the Yagensdorfian, the Deutzian woman's body had hardly any wounds. The bags under her eyes and the exhausted expression on her face spoke volumes about how poorly she had slept.
— So we did win after all, — Aldrik concluded. But there was no joy in his voice.
— We didn't win, — Reinhild shook her head negatively, — we survived. Only a few people, including you and me.
— Klaus?
— Died on the battlefield. As befits a warrior, — the girl replied after a long pause. — Now it's just you and me.
— My condolences, — Aldrik could hardly imagine how she must be feeling right now. Even though he had lost his father in a similar way, their relationship had never been particularly close. Klaus, despite the strange decision to drag his niece into the mercenary business, cared for her. And, as far as the young man knew, was her only living relative. He felt obligated to somehow support Reinhild, but didn't even know how to begin. — If you ever want to talk about it, or just need to vent, I'm always here.
— Thanks, Al, — the mercenary smiled sadly. — To tell the truth, I've been preparing myself for something like this for a long time. In our line of work, going into battle at such a young age is pure suicide. But you know us Messers. We're stubborn as mules. At least I can console myself with the fact that my uncle died the way he always wanted — on the battlefield, not from old age or illness.
The pair spent the rest of the day reminiscing about various stories involving Klaus himself as well as their other fallen comrades. Gradually, the feeling of sadness gave way to a feeling of nostalgia. And although the regrets themselves hadn't gone anywhere, Aldrik and Reinhild greeted the new day in a more uplifted spirit.
Four years later
After the "Pack" met its unfortunate end, Aldrik and Reinhild decided to travel around Tiaral. They had more than enough savings for such a trip. Besides, they both wanted a rest from the horrors of war. Currently, the pair were staying in Celia.
— Reinhild, — the Yagensdorfian dropped three sugar cubes into his cup of tea and carefully stirred its contents, — I'd like to talk to you about something.
The Deutzian woman, who had been chewing on a cabbage pie and looking thoughtfully out the window, slowly turned towards the man and raised an eyebrow questioningly:
— M?
— As you may have already noticed, the situation in Tiaral is far from stable. Military conflicts between countries are flaring up more and more often. And with each passing month, these conflicts become more and more serious. Soon, traveling across the continent will become completely unsafe. At the same time, although we still have a considerable portion of our funds, it won't last us a lifetime, — the man paused briefly, — so, I'm thinking about forming a mercenary squad.
— You're thinking about it, but not completely sure yet?
— Exactly. It would require a certain investment on our part, after all. Not to mention the risks of mercenary work, which we know all too well. And while I have no doubt about your ability to defend yourself, I have some doubts about my own. I was a fairly mediocre swordsman even before, and after losing an eye, I've become even worse.
— Well, — Reinhild grinned slyly, — I wouldn't say it's affected your skills with all types of swords.
The unexpectedness of such a phrase caused Aldrik, who was drinking his tea at that very moment, to choke:
— I hope that if I form a squad, you'll refrain from such jokes in front of my subordinates.
— Maybe, — the Deutzian woman drawled mysteriously. — As for your idea, I'm not against it. You seem to be aware of the potential risks yourself. And I can't argue with you about the situation on the continent. Besides, I've already started to miss the practice a bit. Just tell me one thing, Al, you're not planning to create a second "Pack", are you?
— Not at all, — the Yagensdorfian shook his head negatively. — This is purely a way to earn money, not an attempt to bring back the past.
— That's reassuring. And what will our "not-the-Pack" be called?
— The "Iron Hearts".
Reinhild frowned uncertainly:
— You could have come up with something better.
| Origin | Skills | Beliefs | Perks | Characteristics | Inventory | |
Aldrik von FalkenrathImg | Yagensdorf +2 OY, +40 OX Standard Bearer As long as the character carries the organization's banner, his allies receive +0.5 to accuracy, initiative, and evasion for each point of his Charisma. | — Special Technique — Oratory — Special Technique — Tactics (Double Strike) — Special Technique — Strategy (Offensive Strategy) | Strength: 25 Intellect: 30 Will: 25 Agility: 25 Perception: 5 Wisdom: 30 Charisma: 50 | — One-handed sword — Armor not requiring skills (doesn't have to be leather, chainmail shirt is fine too!) — Banner of the "Iron Hearts" — Money — Tea | ||
Reinhild MesserImg | Deutzia Native inhabitants of the empire may choose an additional perk. | — Unwavering — Brilliance — Special Technique — Perfection | Strength: 50 Intellect: 10 Will: 5 Agility: 60 Perception: 40 Wisdom: 5 Charisma: 5 | — Bastard sword — Armor not requiring skills (doesn't have to be leather, chainmail shirt is fine too!) — Money |