Terrible Company - Chapter 6 - Part 1

Chapter 6: Judging A Book By Its Cover

Ivy scratched her chin with the nail of her thumb, deep in thought as they rode. "So, I think that, since I'm the new leader, I shou-"

"Whoa," Val said. "Just, whoa. First of all, way too soon." The others nodded in solemn agreement. Everyone but Mathilda, anyway. The color had not yet returned to the dwarf's face nearly a full day later. She merely sat quietly in her saddle, staring ahead without seeing. "Second of all, you're not in charge. We didn't vote on that."

"Everyone else got to try being in charge. Weren't we were taking turns?"

"We kinda were," Katsa whispered through the side of her mouth.

Mathilda's reign, days longer than Val's but well short of the Arcanists, had come to a sudden and inglorious end that none of them were yet willing to speak of (and would only refer to in the future as 'The Piggyback Incident'). Her wanton abuse of power had resulted in her immediate removal from office. Ayen had refused to accept an authoritative role, abdicating immediately, four times, before the matter was dropped.

"We're not putting her in charge," Val said flatly.

"In charge of what exactly?" Katsa gave her a rueful grin. "Just let her have it."

"Fine," Val relented, throwing her hands in the air. "I'm gonna go scout ahead." She kicked her heels into the sides of her enormous horse, and the great beast lurched ahead.

"That's an excellent idea!" the buxom redhead said brightly. "I approve!"

"Not looking for your approval," Val shouted angrily, as she trotted off.

"I better be careful," Ivy observed, as she pulled out her pad and quill, "or all this power is going to go to my head."

"It's certainly going to go somewhere," Ayen added.

Ivy turned to look at Mathilda, but felt comfortable making that judgement call all on her own. She started making notes on the yellow paper. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "That reminds me. When we stop, I need to get some hats."

A minute passed in almost-quiet.

"What are the hats for, exactly?" Ayen could barely contain his giggles.

"Well I'm pulling double duty as President and Secretary now, and I don't want there to be a conflict of interest."

Katsa pinched her nose in disgust, while Ayen continued to titter. "And the hats will help how?"

"I thought wearing actual hats might help me keep the roles separate," she explained calmly. "I'll have a presidential hat and a secretarial hat."

"Well," Ayen interjected, "secretaries sometimes wear skirts. Perhaps we could get you a few skirts instead. That would probably be cheaper."

"And I would... switch skirts every time I changed roles?"

"Exactly!"

Ivy looked up to the sky, deep in thought, while Katsa internally disavowed herself of the entire conversation.

Suddenly, Mathilda cleared her throat loudly, making sound for the first time that day. "We'll get ye some 'ats, lass."

"Oh! Good," Ivy said with a relieved smile. "I wasn't sure if that meant I needed to start wearing underwear again." Ayen buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Look at that! Two executive orders in the books before lunch! I'm gonna make a great president!"

---

The trees around her swayed slowly and Val sighed. "Yesterday, you told me the answer was ahead of me, but today it's behind me? How about a straight answer for once!" To that, there was no response, and Val hung her head. "Sometimes I think I'm doing this wrong." The wind shifted, and Val's ears immediately perked up. Her horse, an irritable stallion who resented her presence on him as much as he enjoyed the exercise after so long cooped up at the Bandit camp, perked up as well.

She sniffed. Humans. Almost on top of her. She schooled herself, forcing her very best warm smile, as the forest thinned ahead. Two men in shoddy, ill-fitting chainmail stood just beside the road ahead, their pikes leaned back against their shoulders.

"Evening!" she called, as she and her horse broke clear of the tree line. Both guards turned and nodded... and Val sighed as she watched their casual stances turn martial. Pikes moved forward, their points arcing toward her to bar her path. Both men moved to the center of the dirt road.

"Where you headed, stranger?" the first guard asked, his rounded belly ready to burst through his protective covering at a moment's notice.

Val frowned and looked around. "This is the road to Gahlston, ain't it?"

"And what kind of business would an Orc have in Gahlston?"

"Just passing through," the big Orc sighed, suddenly feeling much more like a sitting duck from up there atop her unruly mount. "Looking for someone I know."

"They ain't here." The first guard paused to spit before continuing, "Maybe it's best you turn around and head back the way you came."

"Look. I don't want any trouble-"

"You got any papers for that horse?" the second one chimed in.

"Papers?" Val answered incredulously. "Of course I don't have any papers!"

The first guard frowned in an unsurprised fashion. "There's been some theft in the area recently."

"Some folks been seein' someone lurking about." The second one was practically drooling with excitement. "Filin' reports of a suspicious person matching your description.

"My desc-" Val took a deep breath. "You mean green?"

"There's no call to make this a race thing, ma'am."

"My... ugh." Val rolled her eyes, hating to admit it out loud. "My party is right behind me. They'll t-"

"There's more of them!" the first guard said hurriedly to the second one. "Signal for backup!" The second guard immediately ran back down the dusty street flailing his arms.

Val lifted her head and groaned in frustration; the guard house was neither small nor far.

"Ma'am I need you to dismount the horse right now." His body language was practically screaming at her.

"No," Val scoffed. "I have every-"

"She's resisting arrest!" the first guard screamed. "I need backup now! Tell'm we've got an irate Orc!"

"Okay! Fine!" Val bit down hard on her tongue as she swung her leg up over the saddle.

"She's reaching for a weapon!!"

"Oh come on!" she shouted.

"What's going on here?" a new voice demanded.

Val's eyes nearly bugged out of her head as another rider emerged from the forest behind her; one she hadn't heard coming and had gotten between her and the rest of the group. She ground her teeth as she weighed the risk of turning her back on so many guards to find out who might be behind her, but the steady clop-clop of hooves on hard-packed road mercifully took the choice out of her hands. The rider slowly passed around her on her left.

"You should stand back, M'lord. We'll handle this one."

"Yes, she does look very dangerous." It took Val a moment to catch the dry, sarcastic tone. "It's a good thing there's ten of you."

"Right you are, Sir, but I need you to clear the field of engagement straight away!"

"What's the charge, then?" The rider moved past her, and Val chanced a glance in his direction. Human, male, with shoulder-length dark blonde hair and a subtle smirk she thought she might be the only one understanding right now.

"We think she might be the one been stealin' them horses, Sir."

"I didn't steal it," Val growled. "The horse is mine." She tried to think of a more elegant way of saying she'd procured it from Bandits she'd thoroughly maimed and beaten with her bare hands, and decided it might be best to end it where she had.

"Exactly what a horse thief would say."

"I can put this to bed right now," said the mysterious rider. "All the horses missing in the area either are mine or were, and that isn't one of them."

The guard was unfazed. "All the same, sir, I think it's best we take her back to the holding cell and make su-"

"That won't be necessary, Captain," the rider said pointedly, sitting up a little straighter in his saddle. He was tall and, she had to admit, ruggedly handsome. He was at least 30% chin. And tall! Fuck... Almost as tall as her? Maybe... it was hard to tell while he was mounted. "I'll escort her into town myself."

The first guard gawked, his mind racing to recover. "M'lord!"

Val smirked as she awkwardly remounted her stallion and followed after her timely benefactor.

"Thank you for your diligence, Captain!" The man rode slowly, clearly comfortable in the saddle.

Val gave him an appraising look as she caught up and rode alongside him

---

"Oh no," Mathilda groaned, as they and their horses ambled toward the small mining outpost of Gahlston. "Dwarves." A troup of them marched across the street ahead, going from one establishment to another.

Marched is perhaps too strong of a word.

"Finally!" Ayen exclaimed. "Someone your own size to pick on!"

"Didn't think we'd find Dwarves this far south," Katsa mused.

"Oh these aren't Dwarves of the 'true' Southern Kingdom," Ivy said, miming air quotes. "They're all dead. Those," she pointed for clarity, "are resettlers."

"Criminals," the Divinist snarled. "Outcasts an' buffooons."

"Do you like anyone?" Ayen asked.

"Lemme pu' it this way," she answered, finding some of her old voice. She held up her thumb. "Ah don' like Dwarves. Unruly, ungrateful, an' stubborn." Index finger. "Ah don' like Southern Dwarves even more. Ridiculous numbskulls. The Necromancers did us a kindness by riddin' the world of 'em." Middle finger. "First thing these degenera' ingrates did was appropriate an entire dead culture withou' the sligh'est sense 'o digni'y!" She stared daggers down the road. "One'f em found a corpse that'd had a birdcage slammed onto 'er head as 'er town was razed. Suddenly, there's a whole village of these gene pool trespassers wearin' cages as 'ats!"

"G'day, mates!" one of the dwarves said cheerily as he passed them in the street.

Mathilda turned, fuming, to Katsa, her short arms held straight out at her sides. " 'oo talks like tha'?!" They both shook their heads as they rode on, although for different reasons. "Look't 'em. Like a flock o' cows blitherin' about."

"Herd," Katsa corrected.

"Heard what?"

"Herd of cows."

" 'course Ah heard o' cows," Mathilda scoffed. "Are ye daft? Think Ah don' know what cows are jus' because Ah grew up under a mountain?" She continued to mutter under her breath about the pervasive racism she faced on a day-to-day basis simply because she was a Dwarf, while Katsa sighed, missing the cultured conversations and learned debates of the Arcanist Guild and not for the first time.

Val's towering stallion wasn't hard to find, staked out near the road at one of the only two inns in town.

Mathilda shivered in disgust at the common room full of drunk (and disorderly) Dwarves, and bore a sour expression as they made their way to the table where Val was seated. "Wha's she doin' with 'er face?"

"I think she's smiling," Katsa said with a smirk.

Mathilda glared up at the Arcanist. " 'ave you ever known that grea' lump 'o muscle to smile?"

Katsa rolled her eyes... but no. No, she hadn't.

"Ah ha!" laughed a mountain of a man seated next to Val. At least, he would have appeared so next to anyone other than Val; as it was, he was just shy of being her equal. "The rest of your party has arrived!"

Katsa, Mathilda, and Ayen stopped and looked at each other, but Ivy happily stepped forward and extended her hand. "Hello," she said brightly. "I'm Ivy, Party President." The fabric of her shirt groaned fearfully as she leaned forward.

"You were not kidding," he whispered to Val with a smirk. He vigorously returned the handshake and gestured to the empty chairs around the rest of the table. "Please, everyone! Join us!"

Ivy wasted no time picking a comfortable-looking chair, while the others continued to stare at Val in quiet disbelief. For her part, Val... Katsa had to blink before she knew what she was seeing. Val was most definitely blushing. Ayen settled into a chair opposite the newcomer, while Katsa and the Dwarf moved to the last of the empty chairs.

"I am Jerrod, first of House Clayborne. My family owns most of the land in the area, as well as the mountain these good dwarves are hollowing out one shovel-full at a time!"

Everyone looked sideways toward each other, trying to sort out who would handle question answering before Ivy took it upon herself to speak for them, but she removed herself from the equation politely to go and have a private word with the innkeeper.

"So Val tells me you just rid our fair town of a problem before it had a chance to rear it's ugly, yodeling head?"

"I think they mostly were into show tunes," Val said thoughtfully, as she took a sip of her lager.

"Ugh," Jerrod groaned. "Was there a lot of jazz hands?"

"Yes!"

Val and Jerrod shared a frustrated groan, and immediately began swapping war stories about Bards.

---

"And, I'm telling you, the minute- the second, that room was clear, that's when when he finally hit the high note."

Val laughed and dabbed at her eye. They just managed to get themselves composed as Ivy was returning.

"I spoke with the Mistress of the house," Ivy said with a sly grin, "worked a little Bardic magic, and secured some lodgings for the night!"

"How?" Katsa asked flatly. "We don't have any money. Like... at all."

"Once all the dwarves clear out," Ivy said, very proud of herself, "we just need to straighten up a bit and we'll be allowed to sleep by the fire!"

Ayen arched an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. "So what you're saying is that you signed us up for manual labor."

"Not much!" Ivy said brightly. "And then we'll be out of the wind tonight!"

Katsa and Ayen sulked in their chairs. Val barely heard a word of it, absorbed as she was in pretending not to notice how Jerrod was staring at her out of the corner of his eye. Mathilda frowned at all of them. "Ye did good, lass."

"Thanks!" Ivy preened in her chair. "Oh, and some rabbit stew should be out in a bit for dinner!"

Val smiled. "It'll be just you guys. Jerrod has invited me to dine with him at his estate tonight."

"But," Jerrod added, "how about a round of ale to go with that stew for the rest of you?"

The Bard and Mathilda perked up at the mention of a bit of alcohol to go with what could be the best meal they'd had in weeks. Katsa and Ayen frowned suspiciously, but Val was ignorant of all of it. There was a table full of attractive people (by her reckoning, anyway), and Jerrod was looking at her.

---

"Whoa," Val said, as she stepped through the massive front doors of the main house.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Val stared curiously at the vast, open space. "It's so... sparse."

"I know," Jerrod said, with an air of pride. "Don't you just love the clean lines of it?"

"Sure," Val reasoned. "Very spartan."

"Who?"

"Nevermind." Val shook her head dismissively, and tried to focus on something else as they walked. "I really like the-"

"I just," he interrupted, talking right over her, "feel like so many members of the quote-unquote nobility get so caught up in the trappings of wealth, and it makes me sick. Who needs all that crap piling up?"

"Not me," Val agreed quickly.

"Cleaning this place out was my first order of business when I assumed control of the family."

"I can totally see that," Val said, nodding as she followed him down a side hallway and into the main part of the building. Part of her was shocked at her insipid behaviour, but mostly she was just excited. Excited and more than a little horny. Jerrod was a full axe handle across the shoulders. She shivered.

---

"You're dying to ask, aren't you?"

Val paused, spoon halfway to her mouth, and stared. She was. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jerrod smiled as he chewed on a bit of the duck they had prepared themselves. "You're wondering why there's no servants. Why we had to make the dinner ourselves."

Yes. "No. I assumed it was like you were saying before? About trappings?"

"That's part of it," he mulled, "but it just felt so lazy having everything done for me, you know?" Val nodded in agreement as he continued. "During my time serving in The War, I just... I don't know. I got used to roughing it." He gestured around at the huge room with his fork. "This was all so... soft. You know, after."

"I totally get that." Val's eye twitched as she caught herself rushing to agree with him. Again. She gave herself a shake, trying to come back to herself, but it was getting harder and harder. "Where did-" Val cut off with a squawk, her voice high and entirely too girlish. She hit herself hard in the center of her ribcage and cleared her throat roughly. "Did you do most of your fighting around here?"

"I was one of the lucky ones," he said, after taking a sip of his wine. "I didn't have to trek it out to the front line; the front line came to me."

Val thought for a moment. "So that was near the end, then?"

"No," Jerrod said with a thoughtful smile. "We held out here for months."

"Months?! In one place?"

He nodded. "Right when the dead started knocking on our door, who should show up but Orcs. Three full legions. We managed to save half of Gahlston, and they stayed to help rebuild the other half. Gained quite a bit of respect for them and their culture." He paused, and added, almost as an afterthought, "Your culture. But enough about that." Jerrod leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Why don't you tell me a little more about yourself. How did someone as beautiful as you end up with such an unglamorous job?"

Val blushed, causing the green in her cheeks to lighten considerable.

---

"I think you're really going to like this," he said over his shoulder with a grin, as they stumbled down a long, undecorated hallway. "I've got quite a collection."

"The suspense is killing me."

Jerrod just flashed another grin as he placed his hands on the handle of the door at the very end, and Val felt a flutter pass through her middle. "You're the first one I've ever shown it to."

Val flinched for a moment. "First one what?"

Jerrod stretched out the moment, grin widening as he kept her in suspense just that much longer, before throwing open both doors and proceeding inward with both arms held out at his side. Val followed behind him with her eyes widened.

She stood stunned, staring at the room. A crude recreation of a Varghul Orc hut stood in one corner. An ogre war banner was draped over a goblin mating totem amid a pile of various tribal weapons. The room was a hodge podge of looted and appropriated culture that left Val wincing.

"Take me." Jerrod turned around in slow motion, spinning and backing toward the bed with a hungry grin.

"Wait," Val uttered incredulously. "What?"

His eyes lit up. "Claim me as your war trophy, you savage brute!"

Val's expression darkened as she looked past him. A leopard-skin bra and loincloth lay alongside a heavy wooden club on the bed. Her mind... reeled. "That's what I'm here for?"

Jerrod beamed with pride as he hefted the club. "Carved this beauty myself." A wooden club. Val didn't even know how to respond to that. He turned to her, offering her the handle. "Want to try it out?"

Then she realized she did know how to respond to that.

Val made to reach for the club, but instead grabbed his wrist and yanked him toward her. His grin widened, thinking this was going to go a different route right up until the moment her fist connected just below his ribs. Jerrod fell to his knees, his face comically stretched out as the air was driven from his diaphragm. She drew her left arm back, high above her shoulder, and it came crashing down with every ounce of her frustration along for the ride. Jerrod twisted ferociously, hit the ground with a hard thud, and didn't move.

She grabbed the loincloth off the bed and tied it tightly around his ankles, then did the same around his wrists with the top. Shoving the handle of the club up into his ass was no small feat, but she felt much better having gotten it in there as she stormed back into the night with two of his wine bottles in hand.

Continued In Chapter 6 - Part 2

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