The Last Charger

by Chengar Qordath

First published 14th of September, 2018

When Belladon Striker, a down-on-his-luck mercenary captain, crosses paths with Torch Charger, the last survivor of his clan, it sets in motion a chain of events that will redefine the very face of Freeport itself.

It has been four hundred and fifty years since the clans of Old Pegasopolis went into exile. The island-nation of Freeport languishes under the rule of the Necrocrats; what began as an idealistic experiment has become a new form of corruption, the ideals of the past lost amid the greed and vain ambition of lesser men. Clan Charger has been all but destroyed, while the Strikers and Doos teeter upon the brink of collapse. There is no hope for the future.

However, when a down-on-his-luck mercenary captain crosses paths with Torch, the last survivor of Clan Charger, it sets in motion a chain of events that will redefine the very face of Freeport itself.

The Last Charger 1

It has been four hundred and fifty years since the clans of Old Pegasopolis went into exile. The island-nation of Freeport languishes under the rule of the Necrocrats; what began as an idealistic experiment has become a new form of corruption, the ideals of the past lost amid the greed and vain ambition of lesser men. Clan Charger has been all but destroyed, while the Strikers and Doos teeter upon the brink of collapse. There is no hope for the future.

I woke up in a dingy tavern room with a nag of a hangover. It probably says a lot about my life that I was used to that kind of thing.

It took a couple minutes for me to realize that the pounding sound echoing through my skull wasn’t just a headache, but someone hammering on the door. I groaned and forced myself out of bed, eventually figuring out how to walk once more. I really needed to tone down the drinking. Soon as life stopped sucking so feathering much.

I groaned and pulled the door open, glaring blearily at whoever I could blame for my current problems. Under any other circumstances, I probably would’ve been happy to see an attractive pegasus mare waiting on the other side. She had a nice blue coat and a short-cut teal mane with just a few red accents. She didn’t look like a hardened merc who’d been with the company since she was old enough to hold a crossbow; she had the sort of lithe build that seemed like it belonged on a dancer, not a warrior. Though anyone who thought that made her a damsel wouldn’t live long enough to regret saying that.

Of course, the usual reasons for me being happy about having an attractive mare showing up at my room went right out the window when the mare in question was family, not to mention my second-in-command: Lieutenant Talon met me with a level gaze, not even flinching when I muttered several less-than-flattering things about her personally and her lineage (the latter of which was particularly ineffective, given we shared ancestors). Probably because she was used to dealing with me when I was drunk and/or hungover. “What is it, Talon?”

“You asked me to wake you up an hour before the meeting with our prospective clients, Captain Belladon,” my second answered dutifully. She always seemed to get a bit more formal with me after I’d tied one on. Probably just to remind me of what state I was in, and how I should be acting. “Will I need to make arrangements for one of your ... ladies of the evening?”

“Didn’t get one,” I groaned, trying to rub some unidentifiable gunk out of my eyes. “Couldn’t find a free one.”

“They do generally expect to be paid,” Talon commented dryly.

“Do I look like I’m in the mood for sarcasm?” I growled. I trotted over to the sink and dunked my head into the water, trying to kickstart my brain into something resembling working order. “This rathole of an island only has slave whores. At least when they’re free I can almost trick myself into thinking they might actually like it.”

Talon cleared her throat. “Nice to know you have some standards with your whoring, at least.” She picked up an empty bottle of wine and sniffed disdainfully. “I suppose you have to make up for your terrible taste in liquor somehow. Are you trying to drink yourself to death?”

“There’s worse ways to go,” I grunted. I’d seen plenty of them.

Talon sighed and ran a hoof through her short-cut mane. “Captain, I know you probably don’t want to hear it, but—”

“You’re right,” I shot back, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“—Tenth Company can’t afford to lose you,” she continued on heedlessly.

I whirled around, glaring blearily at her. “We are not the Tenth Company of Clan Striker. We haven’t been that for more than a decade. We’re Belladon’s Brawlers.”

Talon weathered my displeasure, then nodded sharply. “As you say, Captain.” A second later her disapproving frown was back in place. “In any case, I wanted to discuss the prospective clients you planned on meeting with.”

“What about them?” I grunted, rubbing at my chin to see check just how scraggly my beard felt. Apparently I would need to shave before I met with the client. Well, unless they liked their mercs ragged and desperate-looking.

“They’re slavers,” Talon answered.

“They’re clients,” I shot right back. “Considering how the job we came out here to do fell apart and left us with nothing to show for it but a month of lost wages and traveling expenses, we can’t afford to be picky.”

“I’m aware of our financial situation,” Talon countered tersely. “Managing the company’s books has been one of my duties while Gold’s recovering from that infection. It’s just ... escorting a slave ship isn’t exactly honorable.”

“Honor,” I scoffed. “Tell me something Talon, what does honor taste like? Will it fill our bellies when we’re hungry? Will it keep us warm at night, or give us shelter from the rain? Will it help the soldiers take care of their families?” She started to open her mouth, but I didn’t give her the chance to answer. “No, we need money for that. In case you forgot, we’re mercenaries. We don’t have to like our clients or what they do. We just have to like getting paid once the job’s done.”

Talon stared at me for several seconds, her face unreadably blank. When she finally broke her silence, her tone was a lot sharper than I was used to. “Money means more than honor. That’s not the Belladon Striker I remember.”

I grimaced and shook my head. “You said you were looking over our books earlier, you know how close to gone we are. Do you know what happens to a mercenary company that doesn’t have enough money to pay their troops?”

Talon took a deep breath and very slowly let it out, closing her eyes. “I’m aware. We’ll barely make next month’s payroll, and the month after that...”

“Exactly,” I concluded. “If we don’t take this job, I might as well tell the men to put up their swords and take up farming on the out-islands.” Not that they were likely to make much of a living doing that. The big plantation owners had slaves they could work to death, then pay a necro to bring back and quite literally work to the bone. The only reason they hadn’t completely squeezed out the small out-islander farms was that the plantations only cared about the big cash crops like sugar.

“Right.” Talon fixed me with a piercing stare. “So getting enough money to make the next payday is the only thing that matters right now.”

“Exactly,” I poked at the empty bottles littering the room, eventually finding one that still had a bit left in it. No sense letting it go to waste, and maybe some hair of the dog was exactly what I needed to—

She leveled her eyes on mine. “So does that mean that if you had it to do over, you’d take the Charger Contract?”

The bottle slipped out of my grasp, hitting the floor and shattering into a dozen pieces. The wine leaked out and started soaking into the floorboards, but I didn’t give a damn. “Get out.”

Talon took half a step back, swallowing nervously. “Sir, I didn’t—”

“Get. Out,” I snarled. For a moment I was tempted to grab one of the intact bottles and chuck it at her, but she backed off and shut the door behind her before the idea became anything more than a passing fancy.

So there I was, alone in a seedy tavern room that smelled of booze, shame, and failure. A pretty good summary of my life to date.

I groaned and dunked my head into the washbasin again, briefly pondering whether I should just stay under forever. No point; drowning took too long, and was a nasty way to go. I’d chicken out. Says something when I didn’t even have the guts to take the coward’s way out.

I pulled my head out and rubbed at my eyes, trying to smooth out the bags hanging underneath them and generally clean up enough that it wasn’t obvious I was dealing with the after-effects of an all-night bender. There was nothing I could do about the my blue eyes being so bloodshot they were closer to purple, but hopefully they wouldn’t be looking all that closely. Or they’d just draw the wrong conclusion. Everyone expected mercs to party hard, but the captain of the company was supposed to be in better shape. Not to mention there was a huge difference between having a couple drinks after a hard fight and a good paycheck and retiring to a seedy room all by myself to empty out several of the tavern’s cheapest wine bottles.

Sure, I was well within my rights to be depressed after we’d spent a month sailing out to a place that was so far from anywhere worth being they called it Port Nowhere, only to find out that the job was a dud because our client got himself killed in the meantime. Anyone’d want to crawl into a wine bottle for a couple days after that. But it wasn’t exactly the look you wanted when it came to making a good first impression on a prospective client. Sure, in this case our client was a slaving scumbag, but we needed his bits bad enough that I’d treat him like a saint if that was what it took to land the job. Once we were back in Freeport proper we could find respectable work. Or at least a job that didn’t make me want to throw up every time I thought about it.

Okay, maybe the nausea was just coming from the hangover. Probably.

I groaned and grabbed my dagger off the pile of equipment I’d shoved into one corner of the room, then took a look at myself in the dirty, smudged mirror. I didn’t like what I saw, which meant my client probably wouldn’t either. A stallion with a nose that had been broken too many times to stay straight and old enough to be past his prime, but not so old he had any of the dignity that came with old age. At least I hadn’t hit the age where muscle had started turning into fat, and I still had plenty of muscle to spare. Not that I was likely to ever be one of those dignified old men in the first place. Assuming I didn’t get killed in battle or drink myself to death like Talon kept nagging me about, I’d probably spend all day wandering around and yammering at strangers about things that happened fifty years ago.

I did my best to start shaving the scraggliest parts of my gray beard, and cut out a couple clumps of my mane that had grown a bit too long and looked beyond saving. There was nothing wrong with a merc captain looking a little rough around the edges, but right now I looked like the captain of a down-on-their-luck company that was one bad job away from collapsing. Which is exactly what I was, but looking like that was a bad idea. Slavers are used to the smell of desperation, and they wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of it.

Once I had my beard and mane looking at least halfway groomed I moved on to my wings and coat. It was hard to make a dark reddish-brown color that looked a bit too much like dried blood look good, but I could at least get all the grime out and take a quick bath to get rid of the lingering smell of stale wine.

By that time I was done with that, I’d almost started feeling like a reasonable healthy, normal stallion. More importantly, I was cautiously optimistic about my ability to pass for that when meeting with prospective clients. I pulled my knife belt on, and for the first time since I’d gotten to Port Nowhere I was grateful for the stifling tropical heat and humidity; the weather meant I’d left my gambeson back on the ship. Past experience told me that getting the smell of stale wine and vomit out of a gambeson was the next best thing to impossible.

I opened up the door to my room and stepped outside. The fresh air hit me like a slap in the face after I’d been cooped in that miserable room all morning. I was a bit surprised to see Talon dutifully waiting for me outside. If I’d been her, I would’ve left me out to dry. Guess that means she’s a better pony than me. “Sir, about what I said—“

“Forget about it,” I cut her off. “Talking about it’ll just make things worse.”

She grimaced and nodded. “Very good, sir.” She reached into her pack and pulled out my gambeson along with a few medals, ribbons, and other decorations I’d earned what felt like a lifetime ago. Much like their owner, they had seen better days. “I took the liberty of having your uniform prepared.”

“Good mare.” I pulled my armor on, almost instantly regretting it in the tropical heat. I might have avoided making my armor smell like wine, but in this heat it would start picking up plenty of body odor in short order. And considering how much I’d had to drink last night, my sweat would probably smell like alcohol too.

Once I’d dressed, the two of us started trotting along the streets. Port Nowhere was one of the stranger parts of the already strange land that was Freeport. Mostly because it wasn’t part of Freeport at all, at least not properly.

Around the tail end of when Ushabti finished tossing the out the Zebrican occupation they’d collapsed into another one of their perennial succession wars. Ushabti had decided not to stop at Freeport’s old borders and had gone after Zebrica’s coastal and island possessions. For the most part, it had just been a raid to wreck harbors and burn shipyards so Zebrica couldn’t try another invasion.

Ushabti hadn’t been stupid enough to try and hold onto any of the mainland, but he did decide to keep some of the islands. With Zebrica’s navy in ruins and their army busy killing each other, there wasn’t anything they could really do to stop him. By the time the civil war was over Freeport had already dug in, and the Zebras were too damned war-weary to want to start up another fight. The Zebrican Empire talked about taking the islands back someday, but nothing had come of it yet. Ushabti only bothered taking the islands because they were low-hanging fruit while Zebrica was weak and distracted. They weren’t worth fighting a war over on their own.

Walking through the streets while I tried to settle my gambeson gave ample evidence of the island’s history of changing hands. Half the buildings were still done in the Zebrican style of dome-shaped buildings with pointed roofs while the rest were done in the usual eclectic mix of styles that typified Freeport. That wasn’t even mentioning the ancient buildings built by some race of lizards that had owned the islands who knows how long ago. A couple of the old buildings had been repurposed, but supposedly there were still death traps in most of them. That was more than enough to make people wary of using them.

I caught my reflection in one of the windows. Huh. Evidently I’d managed to clean up into something that almost looked respectable. Not bad for a guy still nursing a hangover. It’d probably take a barber to get me all the way to looking decent, but there was no harm in looking a little rough around the edges. Never trust a merc who looks completely clean-cut; it probably meant he was trying to put you off your guard so you wouldn’t see the knife coming for your back.

That, or it was someone like Talon. Still don’t know how I wound up with a second like her, though it was probably by sticking to the old saying about how your second should be someone who’s as different from you as possible. A straight-laced, stiff-necked mare who insisted on doing things properly and insisted on keeping herself immaculately groomed qualified. She belonged in a proper army somewhere, climbing her way up to a general’s hat. Not slumming it as second-in-command of a failing merc company. Maybe it was just my good luck to have her ... or her bad luck to be stuck with me. More likely the latter, considering what she had to put up with. “Thanks for the help, Talon. Couldn’t manage without you.”

Talon nodded, only the barest hint of a grateful smile maring her normally stoic features. “It's my duty, sir.”

I snorted and shook my head. “I don’t pay you enough for you to owe me any duties.”

“Without duty, what do we have?” she countered.

“Our wealth and the joy we take in life,” I answered bitterly. “And we can’t forget our charming personalities.”

Talon shot a dry look my way. “I believe we’re short on all of those, sir.”

“Speak for yourself,” I grumbled good-naturedly. “I happen to be quite charming.” Talon stared at me levelly for several long seconds, saying nothing. “What?”

“Without making any untoward comments about a superior officer,” Talon began, which made me pretty sure she was about to do exactly that, “I feel compelled to point out that one of the side effects of alcohol is an inflated opinion of one’s own social skills.”

Considering that it’d been over a decade since I’d gotten any action without paying for it first, she probably had a point. “So not so charming then. In that case, I guess I’d best learn to love duty if it’s all I have.” I sighed and rubbed at my face, trying to get rid of the last remnants of sleep and hangover. “Alright, fine. Let’s go hammer out the latest contract and hopefully get a bit more money, at least. We’ve got all the basics down, but the Nightmare’s in the details.”

Talon nodded. “That’s been my experience. Though before we get to that, I did have a few things I wanted to ask about. Best we’re on the same page when we meet the client.” She waited until I waved my permission for her to go ahead and ask. “Do you know how many slaves are going to be on the ship?”

“Last I heard, a bit over four hundred,” I answered. “Mix of zebras stolen from coastal villages and sailors snagged by the local pirates.”

“Mmm.” Despite her best efforts to keep her face stoically neutral, I caught the frown that briefly slipped onto her lips. “I suppose we should be glad that at least they don’t want us to help them when it comes to acquiring their cargo.”

“We’re poor and desperate, but we’re not that hard up,” I grunted.

“Truth.” Talon grimaced. “Still, between the ship’s crew, the cargo, and our company it’s going to be a whole lot of bodies in a small area.”

“Probably why they have us on a seperate ship,” I answered. “The ... cargo will be staying in a big lumbering freighter, while we’re in an escort sloop.”

“So we’re not even on the same ship?” That unhappy frown of hers grew a couple sizes. “And they’re not just hiring extra guards, they’ve got a whole escort ship with a company of hardened mercs on board. Obviously they don’t need us keeping the cargo in line if we’re not even on the same ship. So that begs the question...”

“Why they feel like they need that much protection,” I concluded. “Not that hard to guess, really. It’s a long trip, and there are plenty of people who have an interest in a ship full of slaves.”

“Like all those Equestrian naval patrols,” Talon pointed out.

“Right, we get to worry about those.” I felt a new headache rising that had nothing to do with my hangover. “The Equestrians assuming any Freeport-flagged ship is a pirate or slaver was enough of a pain when we didn’t have anything to hide. Guess even after ten years they still haven’t gotten over Magnus’s Folly.”

“Or Celestia really does think piracy and slavery are a bane upon civilization and wants to stop them,” Talon countered. “It’s hard to fault them for being suspicious of every Freeport ship they come across when a lot of them are guilty. The only reason the pirates and slavers haven’t been hitting Equestria’s shores is because of all the naval patrols and how bulked up their coast guard is. I’ve heard rumors the Equestrians might have even started lurking around in the out-islands.”

“Wouldn’t be shocked.” It certainly looked like Celestia was gearing up for a full-scale war with Freeport. Whether it was a moral crusade against slavery, piracy, and necromancy, or just her punishing us for Magnus’s Folly wouldn’t matter once things started in earnest. It wasn’t my problem, at least for now. There were plenty of things that might kill us before things heated up enough for a full-on war.

Things like this job. “Assuming the Equestrians don’t get us, there’s the pirates themselves. Half of them will want to steal our cargo and the other half’ll want to recruit it. Plus any enemies of our client who want to take them out for pure spite.”

“Do they have those?” Talon sighed and shook her head a second later. “Why am I asking? Of course they do. So our job is to crack the head of anyone that tries to steal the cargo? Simple enough, and since we won’t even be on the same ship we can almost pretend it’s like any other cargo protection run. At least, as long as the Equestrians don’t show up. You know what they do to anyone they catch slaving.”

“Right.” The admiralty courts the Equestrians had set up for any slavers and pirates they captured weren’t shy about leaving the accused with a short rope and a long drop if they had the evidence to back up the charges. Odds were decent they’d consider us running escort duty for a slave ship enough to make us accessories.

Which put things in pretty clear perspective. “If we run up against the Equestrians, it really depends on how strong they show up. I'm not averse to taking out an Equestrian patrol boat, but if we run across one of their full-fledged pirate hunter squadrons...” I grimaced and shook my head. “You know I don’t like to to drop a contract and leave the client high and dry, but I like getting strung up from the closest yardarm a lot less.”

Talon frowned at me. “So we’re turning our coats if things look bad enough?”

I shook my head. “Backstabbing’s not on the table. The most we’ll do is bail.”

Talon pointed out toward the ocean. “It might be hard to bail when we’re out in the open sea hundreds of miles from land. We might be able to hop from cloud to cloud until we get back to Freeport, but if we hit a storm or there aren’t any clouds for us to land on to rest...”

I shrugged. “Not a perfect plan, but better the risks of running than the certainty of death. Besides, nobody hangs around in the open water just hoping a ship will pass by. If we get hit, odds are there’ll be some sort of land close by.”

“Unless our captain heads out into open seas to try and lose a pirate chasing us,” Talon pointed out. She sighed and shook her head. “I can’t say I’m wild about it, either way. If we bail and news gets back to Freeport that we’re not likely to stick around for a tough fight, it’ll just make it harder for us to get jobs. The last thing we need is another reason for clients to pass us by.”

She wasn’t wrong, but... “If we bail, it’s because sticking around would give us much bigger problems than our reputation. Better a living coward than a dead hero, especially since nobody’d think we’re heroes for dying while protecting feathering slavers.”

“Right, that.” Talon sighed. “Talking about betraying our client is a bit easier when they’re so contemptible. At least tell me they’re paying us well.”

“Our books will look a lot healthier, and we’ll have the breathing room we need to find better jobs,” I assured her. “Not to mention we’ll be back in Freeport instead of stuck out in Port Feathering Nowhere. I don’t like it either, but if we just hold our nose and get through it...”

“Right.” Talon’s eyes flicked back and forth over the messy streets. “Can't say I’ll miss this place. It’s got everything I hate about Freeport and none of the good bits.”

“Wouldn’t go that far,” I countered. “None of the Necrocrats are out here, so at least we don’t have to worry about undead all over the place.”

“Point.” She took one last look around the town, then shook her head. “I do have a little bit of good news: I managed to find a pretty solid new recruit for the company. Been a long time since we had any fresh blood.”

“That so?” I was a little curious, mostly because nobody with actual potential would ever be interested in joining up with us. “What’s he like?”

Talon took a long time to answer. “I’ll let you find out for yourself. Pretty sure you wouldn’t believe half of it until you met him. I have a meeting set up for after we wrap things up with the client. He’s got his own gear and knows how to use it, so that won’t be an issue.”

“That’s something.” I scratched my chin. “He got a name?”

A faint grin tugged at her lips. “That’s where it gets interesting...”

The contract negotiations with the slavers were pretty mundane. The usual stuff about hammering out an exact price and getting everything we were responsible for in writing. They only ever called their slaves ‘the cargo’, which was vague enough that I could almost forget about what they were actually hauling. Almost.

At least the money was good enough that I wouldn’t need to worry about keeping any of my soldiers fed and sheltered for the next few months. A bit of financial security would give me time to find better jobs, and hopefully we’d never have to do something like this again.

Once we were done I headed back to the tavern. Not for a drink, though I could sure feathering use one after the negotiations. No, I had a new recruit to meet, and I needed to do it without slurring all my speech.

He was already waiting for me when I got there. I was instantly wary of the guy, mostly because he looked far too good for someone desperate enough to think joining my company was a good idea. His slightly off-white coat and wings were immaculately groomed, there was just a tiny dash of stubble of his chin to give him a roguish air, his long black mane looked freshly washed, and those baby blue eyes probably made mares swoon over him. He looked more like a big-city dandy than a mercenary.

At least his gear matched. His armor was in decent shape, but he’d clearly assembled the suit out of scraps and cast-offs. Somehow, he managed to make it actually look like it all belonged together. The only weapon I saw on him was a sheathed sword, but past experience told me there could be half a dozen more hidden on him elsewhere. That fancy blue cloak that matched his eyes was a great place to hide a few backup daggers.

I sank down into the chair across from him. “So, you’re Torch Charger, are you?”

He turned to face me with a disarming grin. “Last time I checked.”

I scoffed and glowered at him. “You forget how to greet an officer?”

Torch blinked and shot to his hooves, saluting smartly. “Forgive me, Captain. I didn’t know we were on full military discipline already. I didn’t even know you’d hired me yet.”

“If Talon likes you, that’s good enough for me.” Though considering she still thought sticking with me was a good idea, maybe she wasn’t the best judge of character. “Can’t blame you for being lax; I know most of the other clan companies don’t bother with the details.” To be honest I usually didn’t either, but it was always nice to give the new recruits a kick in the rump early on.

“Quite,” Torch agreed dryly. “Not that I’ve been working with them lately.”

“Right.” With any other clan company he wouldn’t want to join, and they wouldn’t have him. “So what have you been doing for the last ten years?”

“Surviving,” Torch answered simply. “That’s not easy for a stallion without a clan.”

“Right.” I decided to go ahead and ask the question that had been burning in the back of my mind ever since Talon told me his name. “And how’re you still alive when all the Chargers are supposed to be dead?”

Torch grimaced. “Not everyone was in the compound when the hammer came down. There used to be more of us left, but the last decade hasn’t been any kinder. As I said, it’s not easy to survive in Freeport with no clan.”

“That’s true enough.” Not like me and mine were doing all that well surviving even with the supposed protection of the ancient and noble Striker clan. Not that I’d ever ask those sacks of horseapples for help. “So where have you been all these years? I would’ve thought a Charger running around would cause more of a stir.”

“I try to keep a low profile,” he answered simply. “I’ve been doing what any proper wandering vagabond should. Odd jobs from whoever will have me and help me buy my next meal.” He grinned at me. “And today, it seems that will be you. That lovely Talon of yours tells me you’re escorting a ship heading back to Freeport.”

“Right.” I flagged down one of the barmaids and ordered a beer. “You got any problems escorting some slaves back to Freeport?”

Torch shook his head. “It’s not an ideal job, but if it puts money in my pocket and gives me a free boat trip back to civilization, I’ll take it.”

“Exactly.” Nice to know he was on the same page as me. Last thing I needed was to put up with him complaining about the job for the whole trip. Or him being too eager about it. “So you know how to take care of yourself?”

He reached back and rapped a hoof on the hilt of his sword. “I know how to use this in a fight, and a few other things. After all, I’ve survived the last decade against everyone who’d rather make a clean sweep of the Chargers.”

That sounded just a bit ominous. “They gonna be a problem for us?”

He shrugged. “Not that I know of. Nothing serious or organized, just one or two clanners who didn’t like knowing they’d missed a Charger. I would be quite shocked if we crossed paths with any of them.” His eyes narrowed in on me, and his voice got just a bit tense. “I trust nobody in your unit will start anything?”

I scowled and shook my head. “The Brawlers didn’t take the Charger Contract, and as far as I know none of the strays we picked up since then did either.” If I ever found out one of them did, they’d be gone. I’m not gonna say I’m some sort of moral paragon, but there are basic standards of common feathering decency.

Torch nodded slowly, his eyes focusing intensely on me for a second. “I know you weren’t involved. If you were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” A second later he relaxed and that disarming grin was back in place. “Well, it seems like a simple enough job. Anything else I should know about it? Or do you have any questions for me?”

“It’s all pretty straightforward.” There was one other thing I needed to know about. “So which branch of the Chargers are you from?”

Torch waved my concerns away. “Don’t worry, just a footsoldier from one of the low branches. I’m not going to conjure up a dozen zombies or unleash the howling spirits of the damned.”

I glowered at him. “So you don’t have any magical training?”

“Do you see a horn on my head?” he shot back.

“Your clan produced plenty of necromancers who had smooth heads and wings,” I countered.

“True, unicorn magic is far from the only tradition in the world.” He shrugged helplessly. “I suppose I know a bit more about necromancy than the average soldier, but that’s far from unusual. Anyone who serves as a house soldier for one of the necrocrats or mercs for them directly will probably pick up a couple things.”

“And the Chargers were neck-deep in necromancy,” I pointed out. “Before the purge they were one of the big player necrocrat families.”

“Mors Charger was one of Ushabti the Great’s closest friends,” Torch answered, sounding just a bit defensive. “It’s only natural we would carry on his legacy.”

“Right.” I dropped the subject. Last thing I needed to do was insult the memory of his dead family. “Anyway, no conjuring up undead.”

Torch nodded patiently. “If you see any, they’re not mine.”

“Good then.” My beer finally arrived, and I took a long pull off it. “Well, good news for you is that we can always use an extra set of hooves. Don’t make me regret hiring you.”

“I won’t,” he answered simply. “When do we ship out?

“With the tide, in two days time.” I looked down at my half-empty glass, pondering whether to order another one before my current glass ran out. “Be there; we won’t wait if you’re late. Talon will show you around and introduce you to everyone else.”

“Thank you, captain.” He smiled and shook my hoof. “I’m looking forward to working with you in the future.”

Author's Notes:

As always, thanks to my pre-reading and editing team for all their hard work. Also, I would like to thank all my dedicated Patreon supporters. You guys are awesome.

Click here if you want to join the list of awesome people who support my writing.

Aidan Hall
Albert Wen
Alt Grendel
Batbrony
Benjamin McLaren
BikerDash
Borg Lord
Brion Wauters
Charles M. Hagmaier
Chris Hall
ColdSilverD
Combine
Comma-Kazie
Creideiki
Cyanhyde
DaB.
Darkarma
Deep Cover
Dixie Daley
djthomp
dkia
Edmon Star
Emily Hartsay
Emlyn Costilow
Errant
FallenAngelXy
Forderz
Guldane
Jessica T
Mapguru
Peter Coulthard
Ponibius
Shank
Sweet Gale
Sylvain Colinet
Trinary
waritah
Web of Hope
Zennyth

The Last Charger 2

Three days later we were ready to get started on our new job. The escort ship was waiting for us in the harbor, and on first glance it looked almost tolerable. They’d set us up with a nice little two-masted battle sloop that looked like it should be able to sail circles around the big fat lumbering freighter we were supposed to be escorting. It might not be heavily armed enough to scare off a proper Equestrian naval squadron, but the heavy arbalests mounted along the railings and scorpions on the forecastle and poop deck would make for a fine deterrent against pirates.

I probably should’ve been happy about having a half-decent escort ship, but instead I just got suspicious. Our clients might be slavers, but they were also merchants. Merchants never skip on an opportunity to cheap out on expenses and keep a few more more ducats in their pockets. You’d think they would have the common sense to not skimp on essential maintenance for the ships that brought in their cargo, but greed is never rational.

That was why I’d sent Talon ahead to check the ship from stem to stern. My second was waiting for me when I arrived on the docks, and wasted no time getting down to business. “The ship could use a bit of dock time for a proper overhaul and general cleanup, but there aren’t any critical issues. It should get us back to Freeport just fine.”

I grunted. “So whatever’s wrong with it got covered up by a fresh coat of tar and paint, and they stacked the cargo over whatever else they don’t want us to see.”

“As always, your unceasing optimism inspires us all,” Talon answered dryly.

“Just dealing with the world as it is,” I grumbled. “No sense pretending it’s all sunshine and rainbows when the only color we’re dealing with is the one I wipe off my arse.”

“Class too,” Talon murmured. “Only the most sophisticated of wit from you, sir.”

I snorted and chuckled. “It’s part of my effervescent charm.” I gave the ship another once-over. “So it’s decent enough and should get us from here to Freeport. Assuming we don’t end up murdered by pirates, hung by Equestrians, captured and enslaved by a rival ship, or cut down by a bunch of those damn fool freedom fighters.”

“The joys of mercenary life,” Talon agreed.

“Storms too,” I continued on. “We get hit by a nasty storm, it’ll probably snap those masts like twigs and leave us dead in the water a thousand miles away from land.”

Torch, who’d been resting against one of the railings nearby, leaned over to not-quite whisper. “Is the captain always like this?”

“No, he’s usually not this cheerful.” Talon shot back, not even pretending to make an effort to keep her volume down. She turned back to me and answered my original concern. “If we do get caught in a storm the ship should manage, so long as the crew does the same.”

“Right, the crew.” I scowled and gave the ship a second look-over, but none of the sailors were close enough for a proper inspection. “Even the best ship in the world is just a bunch of wood and canvas without a crew. So what are we dealing with?”

Talon shrugged. “They look like the usual Freeport dock scum. I can’t say much for their appearance or hygiene, but they seem to know what they’re doing. The captain’s an old sea dog of a gryphon who probably drinks salt water. Started off scrubbing decks when he was a kid and worked his way up. Smells a bit of grog, so the two of you should get along famously. He’s been making this run for a few years now, so he knows the waters and our route.”

“That'll just have to do then.” I took a deep breath, grimacing at the mixture of sea air, wet wood and tar that accompanied any sailing ship. Not to mention the dozen or so other odors of an active dockside. “So he makes slave runs all the time. Guess that figures. Well, at least that means he knows his business.”

“Right. Our business now too.” Talon grimaced, her eyes flicking across the harbor towards the big fat-bellied freighter we’d be escorting. The ship’s crew was loading up a long chain gang of hollow-eyed zebras and gryphons, shuffling them down into the hold. The wind shifted, and I could swear I smelled the damned ship. It wasn’t pretty. That many creatures crammed into a small space for a month’s time never was.

Worse than the smell, there was something else about the whole ship that just put me on edge. I’d never been one for magic or superstition, but there was something about that ship that just felt ... wrong. Like ... like all the misery, pain, and despair of all the thousands of slaves it had hauled had somehow soaked into the very boards of the ship, contaminating the whole damned thing.

Feathers, we hadn’t even started the job and I already couldn’t wait for it to be over.

I grimaced and turned away, doing my best to put the ship out of my mind. “That isn’t our responsibility. We’re just supposed to be some extra muscle if anyone tries to attack them. Makes no difference what the cargo is.”

“That is what they say, isn’t it?” Torch cut in. “But none of the others in the company seem to agree this is just the same as any other escort job.”

“Morale could be better,” Talon agreed, speaking a bit more carefully than the new recruit. “Some of the men are saying we should’ve stayed in Port Nowhere and looked for another job, and the rest are probably thinking it.”

Big surprise. I’d probably be saying the exact same thing if I were in their shoes. But then, they didn’t know how bad the company’s finances were or how little luck I’d had finding anything else. “This is the only way to get back to Freeport with an intact company and the money to keep them from scattering to the winds once they find out they aren’t getting paid. You got a better idea, I’d be happy to hear it.”

“It’s a bad situation, sir.” Talon sighed and shook her head. “The men understand. They don’t like it, but they understand.”

“Though there are a few unanswered questions about what exactly our job is,” Torch chimed in once more. “Everyone knows about seeing off pirates and thieves, and that we’re not supposed to get involved with the actual slaves, but what do we do if they break out on the other ship? Do we step in to protect our clients, or is that not our problem?”

I grimaced and shook my head. “Nothing official one way or the other in our contract, but if we show up in port without the cargo we’re escorting I doubt we’ll get paid.” There was technically an exception for if the ship sank due to weather or captain error, but that was only for half pay and required us to rescue the captain of the slave ship so he could testify we’d done everything we could to save the ship and its cargo. Any storm nasty enough to sink a big freighter like that probably wouldn’t leave us in any shape to mount a rescue, and if the captain ran into a reef he wouldn’t admit it just to save our pay.

Torch frowned and shook his head. “So we do whatever it takes to get the cargo there?”

“That’s what they’re paying us for,” Talon answered simply.

I grunted and nodded along. “Any other circumstances, if the slaves busted out I’d make a snack and sit back and watch them go on their merry way. But right now we have a job. Getting back to Freeport won’t do us much good if we end up too poor to buy our next meal. Odds are we’d end up in chains ourselves to replace the slaves we let get away.”

“Quite.” Torch sighed and nodded. “Like you said, far from ideal.”

“Life has a way of putting us in spots like that.” I sighed and shook my head. “We’ll find something better when we get back to Freeport.” Maybe if I kept repeating that to myself I’d eventually believe it. It was nice to believe that we just had to do the one bad job before everything cleared up, but the ugly truth was that jobs where we got to keep our noses clean and feel good about ourselves were few and far between. Merc work tended to be ugly, especially when the necrocrats were the ones with all the money and power in Freeport.

Even the jobs we got that sounded clean on the surface probably had all kinds of nasty stuff going on underneath. The job we’d originally come to Port Nowhere for had been to recover some exotic creatures from the mostly unexplored continent to the southwest. Says a lot when going into a tropical jungle hellscape full of huge killer lizards constituted a clean job. And even then, the necrocrat who was paying us probably wanted the creatures to find some way to turn them into giant killer zombie monsters.

Torch grimaced and flicked a bit of dirt off his cloak. “So we’re just holding our nose and getting through this one nasty job before finding better work.”

“Yes.” There was something about his tone I didn’t care for. Almost as if he was judging me. The last thing I needed was the new meat in the company looking down on me and having an opinion. “That a problem?”

Torch shrugged and answered with a disarming smile. “Not really. Just getting a feel for the company and my commander.”

I grunted and shook my head. It was a good answer, but the fact that I had to ask the question in the first place... “My job is to look out for the soldiers under my command, and sometimes that means taking jobs that stink. Mercenary work isn’t for saints or people with too much of a conscience, especially not in Freeport. We do the job, and then we get paid enough to keep our heads above the water for a bit longer.”

“I see.” Torch’s eyes lingered on me for several seconds. “When was the last time you took a job you were proud of?”

“Pride’s like honor: it doesn’t pay the bills.” The closest I could think of to something like that was being proud of the job I didn’t take. Yeah, a merc being happy about not working. Do the numbers on that. Still, ancient history, and bringing up the Charger Contract in front of Torch would just feel like I was fishing for his approval or something. I frowned at the young stallion. “You ever been responsible for anything?”

“Yes,” Torch answered.

For a moment I was curious to ask what a homeless merc with no family who was desperate enough to sign up with us could’ve been in charge of, but no sense getting sidetracked. “So you know what's it’s like to be a leader. You’ve had to deal with the pressure of everyone else counting on you to get it right, and knowing that if you feather up they’re all screwed.”

“It’s a heavy responsibility,” Torch agreed. “And sometimes it requires doing things you don’t want to. Like taking an ugly, amoral job just to pay the bills.”

I grunted again, not quite acknowledging his point but certainly not disagreeing with it. The wind shifted again, bringing us all a fresh wave of the damned awful stink coming off the slave ship. It served as a rather pointed reminder of just how terrible our job was. “Any other questions?”

Torch shook his head, leaning back against the railing. “Nothing for now.”

“Right.” I looked him over again, an idea coming together. “If you’ve got time to lean, you’ve got time to clean. Being out on the ocean surrounded by salt water isn’t going to do our gear any favors. Might as well put you to work cleaning it.”

Torch regarded me with a raised eyebrow. “I thought each of us was responsible for keeping up our own gear?”

“Yes, but we also keep a cache of company steel.” Equipment broke sometimes, and keeping a few backups for new hires who didn’t have their own gear was just common sense. “You’re the new meat, so you get to fix it all. Do a good job and I might even let you spend the rest of the trip looking after everyone else’s gear too.”

“An excellent motivator for me to apply myself.” Torch commented dryly. “I thought the Striker Clan tradition was to never let someone else take care of your own gear?”

“It’s been a long time since we were part of the clan,” I growled. “And even back in the old days, we had inspections to make sure everyone was doing it properly. Besides, it’s a good way to get to know the rest of the troops. You’ll meet each one of them, and by the time you’re done you’ll know their weapons and armor.”

“Plus all the other details you might glean,” Talon chimed in. “Which soldiers are studious about keeping their gear in top condition, and who slacks on it. The ones who are willing to do the job themselves and just pass it off to you for approval versus the ones who leave you to do all the work yourself. The ones who go over every detail of how you should handle their gear, and who doesn’t give a damn about it.”

Torch nodded along slowly. “That makes sense. It doesn’t make me look forward to it any more than I was before, but it makes sense.”

“Good.” Talon turned to me. “Speaking of gear inspections, we should also have the men run regular combat drills. On top of familiarizing ourselves with the ship and making sure everyone’s sharp, it would be best to avoid having them lounging about for too long with nothing to do.”

“Good thinking.” I nodded to her. “Well, let’s see where they’ve got us bunked. Hope there’s enough room for some actual airflow, or our ship’ll stink as bad as the one we’re protecting once the month’s done.”

A few initial hiccups aside, we managed to get underway with relatively little trouble. Talon and I both had private cabins as befit our rank, and the rest of the troops had decent enough quarters down in the hold. Tighter than I liked, but nowhere near as cramped as I’d been afraid of. They’d handled a lot worse.

Not to say they loved the conditions so much they’d lounge around down there outside of bunk time. Most of them stayed out on deck as much as possible, getting fresh air. Talon decided to keep them from getting bored and restless by giving them plenty to do; right now the sergeants putting the men through the paces until they were all so worn out from training they wouldn’t even think of getting rowdy. She was a big believer in the old adage about making training so hellish that actual combat seemed easy by comparison. After a week of drills from her the soldiers would be praying for an enemy attack.

Torch was hard at work with the rest of them, swinging his sword through attack routines. I couldn’t quite identify what it was that was so odd about his combat style, but it’s not like most mercs had an especially consistent one. He was probably using whatever the Charger drillmasters had put into his head before the house fell and combining it with a dozen other random bits and pieces of inspiration from random mercs and travellers he’d come across since. It’s how most mercs developed their skills.

I shrugged and squared off against him, drawing my old double-headed axe. “Might as well get a look at what you’re capable of.”

Torch paused for a moment’s thought, then shrugged. “A spar? Certainly.” He drew his sword, letting me get a good look at it for the first time. The blade looked way too good for a normal merc; there wasn’t a single chip or spot of rust on it, and the ripple-pattern on the blade looked like something a lot more special than plain old steel. From the way he flourished the blade he clearly knew how to use it, and the long single-edged sword looked like it’d lop off a limb if he got a solid hit in. Good thing we both had plenty of practice padding.

I grunted and hefted up my axe. “Nice sword. Where’d you get it?”

“Family heirloom,” Torch answered, sounding a lot more terse than usual. No surprise, given the subject. “It’s about the only thing I have left.”

“Right.” I stood there, feeling unusually awkward about the conversation. I mean, the feather do you even say to something like that? I eventually found a safe enough topic. “So it’s an heirloom. That sword got a name?”

“None that I know of.” He shrugged, then saluted me with it. “It’s a very good sword though. What about your axe?”

I twirled it around a few times. “Nope. A gryphon reiver tried to take my head off with it, and when I stuck my sword between his ribs the blade got stuck. Couldn’t spare a couple minutes to wrestle it out, so I just grabbed the axe and carried on. Think I like the axe better anyway; don’t have to be as fancy with it.”

“I’m surprised,” Torch murmured. “I didn’t think it would have a story at all, even one as bare-bones as that. You don’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

I shrugged. “Don’t have much to be sentimental about. In my experience, people going on about the good old days are just deluding themselves with some rose-tinted fantasy of back when they were too young and stupid to see the world for what it is.”

Torch chuckled softly. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a terrible cynic?”

“Only everyone I’ve ever met,” I shot back with a faint smirk.

“You don’t believe in much, do you?” he asked.

“Believing in things makes you stupid and gets you killed,” I groused. “There’s nothing like a good cause to bring out the worst in everyone. Just look at what happened to the old clans. Telling themselves they’re freeing Equestria, when they’re really just so determined to protect their old privileges they thought teaming up with Nightmare Feathering Moon was a good idea.”

“Mmm.” I caught a flicker of a disapproving scowl on Torch’s lips before he managed to hide it. Guess he was one of those types who got all starry-eyed about the honor and glory of the old clans. Guess I could get it. Who didn’t love the idea of our noble ancestors fighting for truth, justice, freedom and all that rot? Too bad the reality was that the clans’ idea of justice was a world where they got to be the warrior elite, and everyone else served them. I’ll trust someone who admits they’re an asshole backstabber way faster than someone who tries to act noble. At least the first guy’s being honest with you.

Torch brought his blade into a high guard, evidently expecting me to try and chop down through his defenses. “Well, shall we dance?”

“I’m not a dancer.” I decided to accommodate him for the first strike. After all, beating him wasn’t the goal, it was figuring out how good he was.

Torch caught the flat of my axe with the flat of his own blade, smoothly parrying it even as he sidestepped to make sure he was clear. I grunted and nodded. At least he knew how to properly defend against someone trying to smash his skull in, redirecting my attacks rather than trying to block them with brute force. It was one of the most basic lessons any fighter learns, but having competence was more than I could say for some of the fresh meat I’d recruited. If there was one thing I missed about being on good terms with the rest of the clan, it was getting a steady supply of new recruits who at least had a solid foundation of all the basic skills a merc needed.

I picked up the pace, tossing out a few feints to see if he’d fall for them. The kid was good, keeping his guard up and not getting pulled out of position. This wouldn’t be an easy one. He was lot nimbler with his sword than I was with my axe, and I couldn’t really take advantage of the fact that an axe could hit harder. If I hit him while I was going all out it could do some serious damage even with all the padding, and while I wasn’t averse to giving the new meat a hard time I drew the line at actually hurting them. Besides, last thing I needed was to put one of my own soldiers out of action with cracked ribs when we might have a fight coming up..

Torch was only making me happier the longer we went on. It was hard to be sure when it was all a practice match where neither of us was serious, but I had a feeling that if we were going at it for real he’d make me work for it. This kid was a real find, probably officer material once he got a bit of experience and seniority with the company.

He caught my axe in another parry, this time hooking his blade under the curve of my axe to pull it a bit further out of position than I would’ve liked. Then he did something weird. He started to make an odd sort of hoof gesture but froze halfway through, hesitating for a critical half-second.

I wasn’t sure what he was doing, but I wasn’t going to let the opening go to waste. Rather than fight the lock on he had on my blade I struck with the base of my axe handle, thumping him in the chest. It didn’t do much more than knock him off balance for a second, but that was enough for me to get my axe free and bring the blade around, stopping my swing well before it would’ve connected, but close enough to make my point.

Torch grimaced and let his blade dip down until the point tapped the deck. “Well played, sir.”

I frowned at him. “You hesitated there. That’ll kill you against an opponent that knows what they’re doing.”

“Right, I should have known better.” He sighed and shook his head. “I was trying to judge whether the strike I had in mind was safe for a spar.”

“Fair enough,” I grunted, seeing no reason to push the issue. The last thing I wanted was to lose an ear to some overeager young whelp trying too damn hard to impress me. “Want a bit more padding, or are we good?”

Torch shook his head. “This should be fine.”

“Then get your guard up.” I came at him again, pushing a little bit harder this time. Torch continued to match me, but the longer the spar went the more I started to notice something a bit off about his combat style. It kind of reminded me of one time when I’d gone up against Nimble Doo. The guy liked to use an offhoof dagger along with his sword. About halfway through I’d knocked away his dagger, and after that the fight went all wrong for him. The guy was used to having two weapons, and trying to go back to just one threw off his style.

So was that what it was? There was a missing element to how he fought, and it was showing up as we went at it. Not the craziest thing. I knew plenty of moves that wouldn’t be showing up in a friendly spar with a new recruit.

Still, it was a weakness I planned to make him pay for. A merc needs to be adaptable, and if you’re no good without all your favorite tricks it’ll go bad whenever you can’t use them. If I could hammer that weakness out of Torch early on, before he got too set in his ways... “You’re doing it again.”

“Am I?” When I made my next strike to take advantage of the opening he brought his sword around whip-quick, catching the haft and nudging my strike wide. I expected him to try and get his sword around for another strike, but instead he stepped inside my guard and shoulder-checked me. While I was off-balance he shifted his sword to fully lock my blade, and he had the position and leverage to disarm me with little more than a flick of his wrist.

Right as the triumphant smirk was working its way onto his lips I pulled one of my hidden daggers, bringing it right up to his throat. Torch blinked, then reluctantly let his sword fall once more. “I'm impressed, sir. That's two for you.”

I put the dagger away. “Word of advice: always keep back a couple tricks they won’t see coming. You’d be surprised how many times a hidden knife will turn a loss into a win.”

“Didn’t you just give your trick away?” Torch pointed out.

I grunted and put the dagger away. “If you think that’s the only one I’ve got...”

“The captain likes to keep three or four hidden daggers on himself at all times,” Talon chimed in. “The one he used then was the obvious one that’s supposed to get found whenever someone checks him for hidden weapons. He always says that nobody trusts a merc who isn’t hiding at least one weapon.”

“Because all mercs keep a hidden backup,” I shot back. “Every single one. If a search doesn’t turn one up, it just means he’s hiding it really well. It’s why I keep the one there, and the others in places nobody knows about.”

“I’d wager half the whores in Freeport could tell you exactly where they are,” Talon murmured not quite loud enough for me to call her on it.

“I’ll remember that, sir,” Torch answered dutifully.

“Right.” I was about to let it drop when an ugly thought sprang to mind. Torch was fighting like there was something missing from his style, and we’d just been talking about keeping a knife hidden for just in case. What if it wasn’t a weakness in how he fought or some piece of gear he’d lost, but something he was deliberately holding back?

That made entirely too much sense, and I didn’t like it. Then again, it wasn’t like I’d ever turned out Talon’s gear and made her tell me where she kept all her hidden weapons. She had even more than me, considering she liked to keep throwing knives for when her crossbow was out of ammo or taking too long to reload. If I jumped on every merc who kept a couple secrets from me, I wouldn’t have a merc company left.

I scowled and shook my head. “I’m getting old. If I was a decade younger I’d be taking you apart right now. Not sure what’s going on with your style, but it’s off.”

Torch shrugged, an easy grin on his lips. “I suppose I might just be out of practice.”

I didn’t like that answer. It was too neat and simple. The truth is usually a lot uglier and way more complicated. Whatever, let him keep his secret if he cared that much about it. As long as he wasn’t planning to put that hidden dagger in my back, it made no difference to me. “Come on, we’re doing this until you get it right or I get tired of trying to teach you. Probably the latter, if I had to guess.”

Torch chuckled and flourished his sword before coming in to start the next round. “Come now sir, I’m not that bad. I’ve had the same clan training as you, after all.”

I fell into the easy rhythm of sparring, taking my time to feel him out and try to suss out what it was he was holding back. “Yeah? Is that all?”

Torch shrugged and matched my pace. “Well, as far as formal training goes. I’ve picked up a few bits and pieces from all manner of other sources over the years. After the fall of my clan I did quite a bit of travelling. I suppose there’s something about my face that just makes everyone want to teach me a few useful combat tricks.”

“Right.” I scowled at the reminder of what happened to his clan. “Foul business, that.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He sighed and shook his head, dropping his blade to a rest position. “Magnus's Folly, they called it. If only they knew how right they were.”

I followed his lead. I hadn’t been eager to bring it up, but as long as we were discussing the whole damned mess... “Normally not one to speak ill of the dead, but Magnus was a vainglorious fool who got a lot of ponies killed. The idiot couldn't get it through his head that Pegasopolis is dead, and has been for a long time. Thinking he could take on Equestria with a few hundred warriors was lunacy.”

“The folly goes far deeper than that.” Torch sheathed his blade and took a seat. “Magnus saw the rift developing between the clans. The Doos went from escorting merchant ships to owning them. My own family became more and more embroiled with the Necrocrats, to the point of learning their arts. And your clan remained mercenaries. The old bonds were fading as the clans diverged, and he thought the best way to rekindle them was to try and rekindle an old hate for the homeland that exiled us centuries ago.”

I snorted and shook my head. “If I hated everyone who crossed one of my great-great-ancestors, I’d hate the whole world, and probably myself in the bargain.”

“Yes,” Torch agreed. “The idea that the clans could be bound together by rekindling the old hates of the war from centuries ago...” He shook his head. “Hate never builds anything, it’s only good for destruction. Not to mention the whole plan hinged on a string of desperate gambles and a fool’s hope. When the clans wouldn’t join him for the attack, he hoped that they’d change their minds if he won a couple battles.”

“Everyone loves to be on the winning side,” I agreed. “Only problem is they all knew that would be Equestria. Even if he caught them off guard and sacked a coastal town or two after beating up the local militia, he was sure to lose as soon as they mounted a proper response.”

“And as it was he didn’t even get that far.” Torch scowled, pacing over the side of the ship. “The Equestrians were ready for him when he landed. Considering what happened after that, I’m inclined to think someone forewarned them. My family had its share of rivals among the other necrocrats, and once Magnus’s Folly destroyed a large portion of our fighting strength we were an easy target.”

“Especially when nobody saw the final hammer coming,” I grunted.

Torch sighed and shook his head. “For a moment, we dared to hope the other clans were coming to help us in our hour of need. Then the first volley came in.”

“Not all of us,” I grunted, a bit of the old anger stirring in my heart.

Torch looked back and me and nodded. “No. Not all of you. It’s why I’m here.”

“Surprised you haven’t spent the last decade killing as many Strikers and Doos as you can get your hooves on.” I snorted and shook my head. “It’s what I’d do.”

Torch’s eyes narrowed, and I heard a hint of a furious growl in his voice. “Don’t think I’m not tempted. No offense, but if I’m ever alone in a room with the pater of your clan...”

“If I was there I’d hold him down for you,” I mumbled under my breath, hopefully not loud enough for him to hear. After all, Nightshade was a cousin. I might not give much of a damn about being proper, but openly discussing kinslaying was too much. Especially in front of a guy I barely knew.

Torch sighed and slumped back against the railing. “Revenge might be momentarily satisfying, but I doubt it would do any good. After all, the clans were just mercenaries. The worst of the Necrocrats are ruling over Freeport, and Ushabti's dream is dead.” He snorted and shook his head. “It makes you wonder if that’s the fate of all idealists. To see everything they built collapse into misery and ruin.”

“Probably,” I agreed. “That’s the problem with dreams and grand plans: they don’t survive in the real world. Reminds me of that old saying about how you should never meet your heroes. The guy you’ve never met can get put up on a pedestal, and you can believe in him ‘cause he’ll never do wrong. Real people can only ever disappoint you.”

“You really are a cynic.” Torch chuckled. “Well, I suppose I knew that at the start of this conversation. Anyway, I think that’s enough of maudlin dwelling on the past. You said you could win five rounds against me.” He stepped back into the center of the deck. “I say we put that boast to the test.”

I smirked and readied my axe. “Five? Feather it, I’ll go ten.”

Author's Notes:

As always, thanks to my pre-reading and editing team for all their hard work. Also, I would like to thank all my dedicated Patreon supporters. You guys are awesome.

Click here if you want to join the list of awesome people who support my writing.

Aidan Hall
Albert Wen
Alt Grendel
Batbrony
Benjamin McLaren
BikerDash
Borg Lord
Brion Wauters
Charles M. Hagmaier
Chris Hall
ColdSilverD
Combine
Comma-Kazie
Creideiki
Cyanhyde
DaB.
Darkarma
Deep Cover
Dixie Daley
djthomp
dkia
Edmon Star
Emily Hartsay
Emlyn Costilow
Errant
FallenAngelXy
Forderz
Guldane
Jessica T
Mapguru
Peter Coulthard
Ponibius
Shank
Sweet Gale
Sylvain Colinet
Trinary
waritah
Web of Hope
Zennyth

The Last Charger 3

I woke up to someone pounding on my cabin door. There was only one pony on the ship with the guts to wake me up with a knock that annoying. The worst part was, Talon wouldn’t be doing this without a damn good reason, which almost certainly meant we were about to earn our pay.

I grunted and hauled myself out of bed, wincing when my hooves hit the deck. One of the joys of getting older; my knees spent the first couple moments complaining whenever I got out of bed. It was only gonna get worse. I wasn’t getting any younger, and every single step I took meant getting one step closer to my last. Between that and the headache I was nursing from not getting enough grog, it wasn’t a pleasant wake-up.

I hauled myself over to the door and pulled it open. “Yes?”

The frown on Talon’s face instantly confirmed my fears. “We’ve got trouble. There’s a ship ghosting us.”

Well ... that’s just feathering typical. Of course this couldn’t just be a milk run where nothing went wrong. “What type of ship is it?”

“Sloop-of-war, according to the captain.” She grimaced. “Apparently, that’s the naval term for a sloop that’s bigger and faster than us.”

“Bigger and faster? Hardly seems fair,” I grumbled. Though I suppose it shouldn’t have come as a surprise; not like life had ever been fair in the first place. “It showing its flag?”

Talon nodded. “A Freeport one, but that hardly means they’re friends.”

I grimaced and nodded. “Not if they’re tailing us. If it was a merchant ship I'd guess they were just shadowing us for protection, but nobody hauls cargo on a ship like that. I guess they could be a naval escort of some kind, but...”

“I’m not half as cynical as you and I know we’re not that lucky,” Talon agreed. “Not to mention they’d be doing something to signal they were friendlies, since anyone with a functioning brain knows how it looks when a warship with a lot of heavily armed crew starts tailing another vessel. I suppose we should just be glad it’s thieves instead of the Council or Equestrians.”

“Too right.” Crooks could give a toss about the escorts; all they wanted was the cargo. If the Equestrians caught us we’d get a quick trial and a short drop. If the Emancipation Council caught us, it’d be less fancy but with the same end result. Granted, if we got between the pirates and their quarry like we were supposed to they wouldn’t hesitate to kill us too. They just might not bother running us down if we ran.

“Best to rally the soldiers then,” I ordered. “Maybe we can scare them off. It’s only one ship, and most pirates would rather hit a soft target than one that can actually fight back.”

“Worth a try,” Talon agreed. “And best to have the troops ready whether we scare them off or it comes down to a fight.” She started to march off to rouse everyone, then paused and glanced back at me. “Torch is in the crow’s nest keeping an eye on them. You want to go up and check in with him, or should I?”

“I’d better,” I answered. “I want to get a look at this ship myself.” Part of being a leader might be delegating things to others, but there’s no substitute for seeing it yourself. Lot faster to put my own eyeballs on the enemy than to make Torch try to describe it all.

Talon nodded sharply and wasted no more time, setting off at a brisk trot and calling out orders in her best parade ground voice. Stars above, I couldn’t run this company without her to whip everyone back into line. Feathers, she could probably do my job better than I did most days.

I’d be lying if I said I’d never considered handing it over to her. Probably be better for her and for the troops. Not for me though. Needing to be the responsible captain was probably the only thing keeping me from drinking my way into an early grave, or finding some other fittingly disreputable demise.

Instead, I could look forward to getting myself killed doing such glamorous work as keeping pirates from stealing a slave ship. The joys of being a mercenary.

I flew up to the crow’s nest to find Torch. The new recruit had the ship’s telescope fixed on the small but growing dot on the horizon that had to be the enemy ship. Somehow, he still looked presentable despite two weeks on a ship and being several hours into crow’s nest duty. It was enough to make me wonder if he was crossing the line between fastidious and foppish. I cleared my throat to get his attention. “What’re they doing?”

“Gaining on us,” he answered tersely. I was a bit surprised—normally Torch liked to talk a bit more and always seemed so friendly it kinda pissed me off. Which I suppose ought to mean that terse was an improvement. “Also, I can’t be sure, but...” He pulled the telescope back and offered it to me. “Look for yourself, sir.”

I took it and had a look. The ship was still too far away to make out much in the way of details, but what little I made out was enough to make the bottom drop out of my stomach. Way too many sets of wings for a normal pirate crew. And then I saw one of them marching around in a fancy breastplate that was so polished up I could practically feel it stabbing me in the eyes. Only one merc around wore something like that.

“Dammit.” I scowled and passed the telescope back to Torch. “Those aren’t just pirates, we’re up against a Striker company.”

“I take it that’s bad news?” Torch asked.

“Very bad,” I confirmed. “Especially with that bastard Glory leading them. Guy’s got enough of an ego for any three captains, there’s no way he’d back off or go easy on us.” Especially not when I’d taken a swing at him once. It was over a decade ago, back when we’d been Tenth Company rather than Belladon’s Brawlers, but Glory was the kind of guy who didn’t forget or forgive stuff like that. He’d want a fight as soon as he found out it was me, and probably not the sort of nonlethal ritual honor duels the clans used to do when they had conflicting jobs. That practice had been a relic of the good old days, before we’d murder an entire friendly clan if the price was right.

Torch scowled out at the ship. “Glory Striker. That’s ... Third Company, right?” I nodded, and his scowl deepened. “They were one of the companies in the vanguard when...” Torch grimaced and shook his head. “What’s the plan, captain?”

I sighed and ran a hoof through my mane. “We try and make this look like too big of a fight to be worth it. Talk to ‘em if they’ll listen. Maybe they'll blanch at fighting other Strikers. If not, I doubt they’ll want to bleed too much to steal a bunch of slaves.” I didn’t actually believe any of that could happen, but I’d give it a shot. I was a decade past overdue for some good luck.

Then Torch asked the question that had been weighing on everyone’s mind. “And what happens if they don't back off?”

I shrugged. “Fight if we have to.”

“Even though they’re your kin?” Torch pressed.

“You got a better idea?” I growled. “If we don’t protect the cargo we aren’t going to be able to eat when we get back to Freeport, and I’m not going to let some bastard stick a knife in my back just because he happens to be a third cousin once removed.” I glowered at him, a bit surprised by the question. “And why’s it matter to you? I figured I’d need to hold you back from sticking that sword of yours into every single of them. Like you said, Third Company and Glory were there on the front lines of the attack on your family.”

Torch grimaced, and I could swear I heard his teeth grinding against each other. “Revenge ... is something I’ve had to learn to let go of. There was an old saying my father was fond of: if you’re out for vengeance, dig two graves. One for your enemy, and one for yourself.” His eyes narrowed. “They already destroyed the rest of my clan. I won’t let them have me too.”

“Right.” It was a noble sentiment, but I wasn’t sure I bought it. It’s one thing to say to you won’t go revenge crazy, and another to resist the urge to stab one of the featherers who killed your entire family when he’s standing right in front of you. “Just remember that. We’ve got a tense situation and potentially a nasty fight on our hooves. I don’t want everything going sideways on us because—”

“I’ll follow orders,” Torch cut me off. “All of us making it out of this in one piece is the most important thing.”

“Damn right it is.” I grimaced and looked down at the deck, seeing Talon whipping the rest of the troops into position. Only metaphorically thus far, but if I ever let her get her hooves on an actual whip I wouldn’t put it past her. “Best let everyone else know what we’re in for--better they hear it ahead of time and get used to the idea.” None of them would be wild about the idea of fighting other Strikers, but they’d handle it a lot better if it wasn’t a nasty surprise.

“Of course.” Torch turned his attention back to the approaching enemy ship. “Oh, and captain? Best let the troops know they’ve a necromancer on that ship. Undead thralls too.”

I frowned at the news. “How do you know that?”

Torch didn’t even spare me a glance. “I have been watching them with a telescope, sir. Even at this distance, it’s easy to tell the difference between the living and the dead.”

Oh. Right. Obviously. Shouldn’t be so damn paranoid. Not like it takes a necromancer to know what a zombie is. “Good spotting, I’ll tell the others.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I hadn’t thought it was possible, but I was in an even worse mood by the time I made it back down to the deck. I decided to start with the least bad part of it and work my way up. “Great news, Talon. They’ve got a necro.” I grimaced down at the deck. “No idea where a bunch of no-accounts dug one of those up.”

Talon shrugged. “Probably just a cheap thug caster with barely any talent. Not like Freeport’s short on aspiring necros who think knowing how to make a couple basic zombies is their ticket to power and influence.”

I grunted and scowled at the other ship. “Small surprise when Freeport’s the only nation on the planet that not only tolerates necromancy, but outright encourages it. I’d bet the only reason Equestria and the rest let us get away with that is because we’re giving their warlock hunters an extended vacation.”

“No reason to stay in a nation that hunts them when we’ll welcome them,” Talon agreed. “Not that Equestria will thank us for taking the warlocks off their hooves. After all, when there’s nowhere safe for necromancers to hide, there are a lot less necromancers.”

“Right.” I grimaced, my thoughts sliding back to Torch and his clan. The Chargers never would’ve gotten mixed up in all that black magic otherwise. Mors was just another soldier who picked up a couple tricks while he was helping Ushabti push the Zebras out. That could’ve been the end of it if not for the damned necrocrats. When the ruling class were all necros, it made everyone who wanted to be somebody start studying up. The Chargers wanted to climb the ladder, so they went from a few of Ushabti’s old war buddies picking up a few tricks to being full-on necros. Nothing good was ever gonna come of that.

Talon snapped me out of my idle thoughts. “The men are as ready as they’ll get. Want to say anything to them before it starts?”

I snorted and shook my head. “Have you forgotten what happened the last time I tried that?”

Talon frowned though I caught a hint of teasing light in her eyes. “I forget, was last time the one where you were so drunk nobody could understand a word you were saying, or the one where you got interrupted by a crossbow bolt bouncing off your helmet three words in and defaulted to ‘Kill the feathering sons of whores!’”

I shrugged. “Like I said, speeches aren’t for me. Keeping everyone else alive is more important than saying a few pretty words before the part that actually matters.”

“Right.” Talon frowned at me. “You seem even grumpier than usual, and I didn’t know that was possible. What’s the bad news you haven’t told me yet?”

Damn. The mare knew me entirely too well. Nothing for it but to tell her the truth; not like she wouldn’t find out soon enough either way. “We’re dealing with other Strikers.”

“Oh.” Talon fell silent, her eyes flicking back to the other ship pursuing us. “That’s ... oh. Who is it? Maybe we can—”

“Glory and Third Company,” I answered. Nothing more needed to be said.

“Damn.” Talon scowled at the distant vessel. “Of course it would be him. If we hadn’t been working off the books I’d wonder if Nightshade...” She grimaced and shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Think there’s any chance he’d back off?”

I shrugged. “Depends on how much of an ass he feels like being.”

“So he definitely won’t back off,” Talon concluded.

“Wouldn’t bet on it.” Glory was the sort of asshole who never passed on a chance to climb up, especially if he could step on someone else to boost himself up a little higher. In other words, exactly the sort of asshole Nightshade liked. No way Glory’d take the hit of leaving a contract unfulfilled for my sake.

Talon sighed and nodded. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out. Give him a warning shot to see what he has to say?”

“Right.” I grimaced at the other ship. “Best move we’ve got.”

It took us more than an hour to get into position to fire that warning shot. That was the ugly part of escort duty: we had to position ourselves so we were between them and the slave ship while at the same time avoiding putting ourselves in a bad position. Since getting in position to fire a warning shot at them necessarily meant putting ourselves in range for them to shoot back, I couldn’t fault the captain for wanting to play it safe and take his time maneuvering. If the ship sank, we were all doomed.

It felt wrong to be running things without Talon right there to bounce ideas off of, but she was more useful where she was. Once we’d started closing in on us she’d booted Torch out of the crow’s nest and taken it for herself, along with that fancy crossbow of hers. She’d taken it as a trophy off a mixed company of gryphons and zebras five years back. It might not have quite as much stopping power as the larger rail-mounted arbalests, but I’d seen Talon nail shots from over a hundred meters away. If it did come to a fight, hopefully she’d put a bolt in Glory’s head early on and stop things from getting worse.

After what felt like far too long, we got into position for Talon to take her shot. The other ship was too far away for me to see how Glory reacted to having a crossbow bolt slam into the mast a few inches away from his head, but I liked to imagine he dropped an entire load of horseapples onto the deck right then and there.

By the time Glory got around to actually answering, if he was still panicked he’d gotten it under control. “So that is you, Belladon! I thought I smelled stale booze and failure on the wind but I couldn’t be sure. Now though ... nobody else would say hello by shooting at me!”

“Just making sure you're being honest, Glory!” I shot back at him. “Can’t help but notice that you're chasing me at the moment!”

“Just your cargo, old man,” Glory answered. “Stand aside, go run off and find a bottle to crawl into. You might not be much in the way of family, but I’ve still got no wish to damn myself for a kinslayer if I can avoid it.”

“Can’t do that, I’ve got a contract,” I answered simply. “You know how this ends: we’ll each pick our champions for the honor duel.”

“An honor duel?” Glory scoffed. “You think I’m coming up on your ship to play at games? You took a shot at me, Bell. It’s over for you, and for that pet nag of yours. You should’ve told her to aim better because both of you are dead!”

Damn. I should’ve known ... scaring the crap out of him with a warning shot had seemed like a good way to mess with him, but maybe it had worked a bit too well. Glory had always been a bit too damn full of himself, and when you have as much ego as he does there’s nothing that hurts more than getting it deflated. Still, this was too far. “You’re gonna attack your own kin? Think the elders back home will like that?”

“Nobody in the clan gives a damn about you, Belladon!” Glory snarled. “I could come back into port with your head mounted on the mast and they wouldn’t even feathering blink! Besides, you fired the first shot and refused to stand aside. It’s on your head.”

“Horseapples!” I snarled. “That was a warning shot and you know it! If Talon wanted you dead, she would’ve hit! You’re just looking for an excuse, you sorry bastard!”

“Bell, we both know that if there’s anyone in the whole clan looking for an excuse to kill his own kin, it’d be you.” Contempt laced his words. “Think you’re better than the rest of us just ‘cause you’re too stupid to take good money for a bad job. Not like it stopped you from working with feathering slavers. Don’t worry, I’ll tell my archers not to put a single shaft into you. I always hoped that whenever you feathered up bad enough to bring down the hammer, I’d be the one swinging it.”

“Useless-ass pretty boy like you couldn’t even pick up a hammer with all four hooves and miserable little shaft you call a cock!” I shot back. I looked up at the crow’s nest. “Talon, new plan. He’s mine.”

Talon frowned down at me from the crow’s nest. “That’s stupid, sir.”

“Yeah well, what else is new?” I grumbled. Besides, once I planted my axe into the damn bastard’s neck the rest of his men might back off. I turned to the rest of them. “What the hay are you standing around for? Get ready for a fight! They say nopony is more accursed than a kinslayer but they’re starting the fight anyway.” I scoffed and shook my head. “Besides, it’s not like we’re not already damned.”

It took another few minutes before the fight actually started. I probably could’ve had Talon put a bolt into someone’s head before then, but just because Glory would claim we fired the first shot was no reason to make it true. I wanted every single one of my troops to know for sure that we hadn’t started this fight.

That said, as soon as they loosed the first volley from their arbalests we wasted no time responding in kind. Naval battles between two ships full of pegasi always had a precious sort of balance. The first instinct was to take the fight to the air, but open skies didn’t offer much in the way of cover to protect against the bolts flying between the ships. Any sort of long-range boarding risked the fliers getting shot to bits over open water.

That didn’t mean Glory wouldn’t try. He had enough in the way of numbers to keep the arbalests manned while he rushed in with a boarding party. In theory, his shooters could suppress mine while he closed in to board, which meant I’d need to go out and meet him. A big nasty aerial melee nobody could safely shoot into would leave our archers free to focus on each other, which I at least felt decent about. He might have a few more arbalests, but as long as Talon was free to put that fancy crossbow of hers to use I felt good about our chances. Quality over quantity.

That just left the melee to worry about. Odds were Glory would be leading the air attack force, since he was too much of a hothead for anything else, and he’d pretty much challenged me to face him on the field. I saw no reason not to accommodate him. I was mediocre with a bow, and if it looked like I was scared to face him one-on-one it wouldn’t be great for morale. Besides, I wanted to teach him a lesson. With my axe. Namely, a lesson in how an axe to the face feels.

When Glory made his move I flew out to meet him with our force. I waited as long as I safely could before countercharging, mostly so Talon and the other archers could pick off a couple of them. Anything to help even the odds.

Of course, that put a big target on her head. I wasn’t sure how much Glory knew or remembered about Talon from back before the clan fell apart, but if he’d forgotten just how devastating she was with a crossbow she’d been doing a good job reminding him. Three of his troops went rushing up for the crows nest, dodging and weaving as much as they could to throw off her aim. She managed to pick one of them off, but I didn’t like her odds of getting the other two before they closed in on her.

No way I’d risk getting my best shooter tied up in melee. I signalled Torch, and the two of us rushed up to intercept the attackers. They were so focused on not getting hit by Talon that they never saw us coming.

Torch flicked past his opponent lightning-quick, a flash of steel accompanying the move. I couldn’t tell exactly where or how he hit the other Striker, but whatever he did made the soldier drop like a stone.

My approach wasn’t anywhere near as elegant. I planted my axe in between the bastard’s ribs with a satisfyingly meaty thunk. The pegasus full out of the sky, his weight wrenching my axe head free as he went. He tried to stay airborne, but between the pain, bleeding, and whatever damage I’d done to muscles and organs he couldn’t manage. He hit the water hard enough to bounce, and then slammed into the hull of our ship with bone-breaking force. He sank under the water and didn’t come back up.

A moment later a crossbow bolt whipped over my shoulder, thudding into the face of another of the Third Company men who’d been trying to come up on my back. Even without checking the angle or the bolt I knew who’d taken that shot, and I waved a quick thanks to Talon before whirling about to find a new opponent. Glory had to be hunting for me, and I saw no reason not to find him first.

I spotted the bastard right above us, chucking a javelin down down at Torch. I tried to call out a warning, but by the time I’d said anything it would’ve been too late. Good thing Torch was on the ball and dodged away before he got skewered.

Still, if the kid had been just a bit slower ... there aren’t a lot of things that really piss me off, but the idea that a low-down bastard like Glory had come within a hair’s breadth of killing the last surviving Charger was enough. “Glory you son of a dried up old nag, I’m coming for you!”

Glory grinned down at me, bringing his glaive to bear. “Ah, there you are. I was afraid you’d gone and hid in another bottle of rum.” He twirled his polearm around. “Let’s give the men a good show, shall we? Just because your life was a total waste doesn’t mean you can’t at least die in a suitably inspiring fashion.”

“I’m not here to die,” I growled. “And it’d take a far better warrior than you to pull it off.”

I swept my axe in a broad arc to test his defenses. Glory easily flicked down so my axe swept over his head, then countered with a wide sweep of his glaive to force me back. “There are no men better than me, and you’re just a miserable old drunk who should’ve died with the damned necromancers you loved so much!”

“This miserable old drunk’s still got more fight in him on his worst day than you ever had.” I took a few more swings to check his speed. I didn’t like what I learned: he was slipping and sliding around my attacks, dodging past them without even trying all that hard. The Glory I’d known ten years ago had been quick on his hooves and quicker in the air, but didn’t always know how to use it. A decade of experience had taught him that, but he wasn’t old enough that he’d started seriously slowing down yet. Which was more than I could say about myself.

Then again, I’d never been all that fast in the first place. And I was still every bit as tough and strong as I’d been back when I was young buck. Maybe even tougher. And a hay of a lot meaner. I slowly dropped height, letting him follow me along until we were barely above the water. Glory grinned and pushed in a bit more aggressively. “Getting tired already?”

“Nah, just suckering you.” I dropped down and smacked at an especially tall wave, sending salt water flying into his eyes. Glory snarled and fell back, whirling his glaive through the air in a wild defensive pattern. I tried throwing a knife at him while he was blind, but the lucky bastard managed to deflect it with his wild swinging.

“You dirty...” Glory glared at me through reddened eyes.

“You’re in no position to call anyone else dirty,” I shot back. “Sorry if you don’t like someone fighting back, I know you’re used to butchering children.”

“Are you still on about that?” He closed back in on pushing a bit more cautiously than he had been and taking full advantage of his huge advantage in reach. With his glaive being nearly twice as long as my axe, it wasn’t hard for him to hold me off. “It was over a decade ago.”

“The blood of innocents doesn’t wash off that easily.” Despite my bravado, I knew I was in for a tough fight. He was faster than me and his glaive had a big reach advantage over my axe. That was a really bad combination.

I took the fight up high again, forcing him into a power climb that limited how much he could use his superior speed and maneuverability. He might be agile, but going straight up was far more about muscle mass than being quick on your hooves. As we climbed I did my best to keep up the pressure, but he’d evidently learned his lesson and wasn’t having any of it. Eventually he managed to land a glancing hit on my cheek, laying it open. That was going to hurt like a nag once the adrenaline wore off. Glory smirked. “And first blood to me. I’d worry about it ruining your good looks, but you never had those to begin with.”

“It’s a scar,” I grunted, wiping the blood away. “Not the first I’ve gotten, and it won’t be the last. Don’t think that just because you’ve got a pretty face you’re on the side of the angels. Before I met you, I never even knew you could stack a pile of horseapples that high and polish it up enough to pass for an actual pony.”

Glory snarled and pushed a bit harder, and I had to twist to make sure his glaive only met armor. My chain was holding up so far, but I wasn’t optimistic about it lasting forever when he kept landing hard hits on me. I still had my gambeson underneath that, but that wouldn’t last long without the chain backing it up. Glory smirked as the momentum shifted in his favor. “You talk a lot for a dead stallion.”

I backed away and did my best to just survive the next minute. I wasn’t going to win this unless Glory screwed up, and that was only a matter of time. Especially if I tweaked his ego a bit more. “Talk’s all you’ve ever been. Look at you—you’re nothing more than a pirate. And stealing slaves at that.”

“Slaves you’re escorting,” Glory shot back.

“Mercs don’t always get the jobs they want,” I countered.

“That’s not the story you told ten years ago,” Glory landed a solid hit on my chest, popping a bunch of rings off my mail. “What happened to the sanctimonious ass who wouldn’t shut up about how the Charger contract was wrong? Face it, we’re both mercenaries. The only difference is I’m ten times better at it than you could ever hope to be!”

I winced at the blow, but I knew it was working. His attacks were coming in harder, and more direct, easier to predict. “You know how you’ll go down in the history books, Glory? As a child-murdering, backstabbing, gloryhog kinslayer.” I parried his glaive aside and hit him with my best verbal shot. “Assuming anyone even bothers to ever remember a two-bit asshole like you.”

I knew I’d hit the mark when Glory’s eyes narrowed and his teeth clenched. Punch a man in the face and he’ll forgive you the next day; wound his pride and he’ll hate you until his dying day. And Glory had a lot of pride to wound. “And you'll be remembered as dead!” He snarled and threw caution to the wind, trying to skewer me through the weak point in my armor.

It was a mistake. The attack was too obvious, and he’d telegraphed the hell out of it. I got the haft of my axe behind the blade and shoved it wide, then rushed in before he could recover. I’d gotten too close to him for my own axe, let alone his polearm. My helmet, however, was just fine. Normally headbutts are a bad move. When you’ve got a helmet on and the other guy doesn’t, that changes. Glory’s nose made a very satisfying crunch when my steel-covered forehead slammed into it.

While Glory was still reeling from the first hit I pulled another one of my hidden daggers and jammed into a gap in that fancy breastplate of his, right where it opened up for his wing. The knife bit deep into the muscle, and I gave the blade a nice twist just to add to the fun.

I backed away a step to bring my axe to bear for a killing blow, but Glory must have recovered enough sense to realize he had only one winning move left. He dropped straight down before I could take off his head, managing something between a glide and limp sort of one-winged flying as he headed back to his own ship.

No way I was letting him get away that easy. “Did I say I was done with you?!” I decided to milk the situation for all it was worth, shouting as loud as I could. “Look at your captain, Third Company! Running away like a beaten dog with his tail tucked between his legs!”

Glory managed to make it back to his ship, crashing down on the deck in way that probably made his wound even worse. He’d only barely managed to keep a hold of his weapon, but the long polearm had splayed out on the deck, lying flat with most of its length exposed.

I wasn’t one to waste a golden opportunity, and I brought my axe straight down onto it. Normally chopping the head off a polearm in the middle of a battle isn’t an option unless the wood is way too thin or low quality. When it’s lying flat against a hard surface...

Glory stumbled back to his hooves, wincing with every move as he cast aside his broken weapon. “Damn.” He started to draw his sidearm, but paused with the blade half out of its sheath. Even if he’d been healthy, taking a spindly little smallsword up against a proper axe wouldn’t go well. Trying to make it work while I’d landed a near-disabling wound...

His eyes flicked to the other Third Company ponies, who’d been sitting back and watching the fight play out. “Someone give me a weapon!” Nobody seemed to be in any rush to do so. Especially after some of my Brawlers started landing on the deck. The low-level defiance set him off even more. “What are you waiting for! Rush the fool! He’s only one pony!”

That tore it completely. Being honorless scum was one thing, especially when Glory’s lot were pretty sorry excuses for soldiers and some of the worst of the clan, but nobody likes serving under a coward. When Glory tried to limp over to one of his men to take away his weapon, the soldier pointedly backed away. Maybe it was some last scrap of honor left in them. Or maybe they’d all just realized that if Glory died, one of them would be the new captain.

That’s when Glory played the last card he had left. His eyes settled on the black-robed unicon and his accompanying zombies. “I’ll triple your pay!”

The unicorn shrugged, and a second later his zombies rushed me. There were about a dozen different curses I wanted to shout out all at once, but there wasn’t time for any of them.

I had far too much experience in dealing with the undead. By most standards these would be pretty piss-poor zombies. They didn’t have much in the way of equipment, and from the way they rushed in like blind idiots the necromancer either didn’t have the talent or brains to give them proper combat skills. They did have one really big advantage, though: there were ten of them and only one of me.

I put my axe to work lopping off limbs, but I couldn’t kill them anywhere close to fast enough. The wall of undead flesh slammed into me and bore me down to the deck, getting in too close for me to do any more axe work. I pulled a couple more daggers, but they weren’t made for taking out the undead. A zombie doesn’t give a damn if you stick a knife in their heart or slit their throat, though I did manage to land a lucky shot and put a dagger through one’s eye and into its brain, dropping it. Another snapped back with one of Talon’s crossbow bolts in its skull, but I doubted I’d have time for her to reload and pick the rest of them off me.

Just as I was getting ready for an especially nasty and painful death as half a dozen zombies mobbed me, there was a flash of purple light that blasted the undead away. I had no idea what it was, but I wasn’t going to waste any time asking questions when I had the opening I needed. I planted my axe in one zombie’s head, then brought it around to decapitate a second.

Then Torch was at my side, putting that fancy sword of his to work. Despite it not having anywhere near the weight of my axe, it still seemed just as capable of lopping off a zombie’s head. For a second I could swear I saw the blade glowing, and when he made his next attack it dropped another zombie. Not lopping off the head or doing so much damage it couldn’t move anymore, the zombie just ... dropped.

The necromancer snarled and his horn lit up, firing off a beam of pitch-black energy at the both of us. Torch brought his sword around and deflected the spell before it came close to connecting. Then he did something that really surprised me.

Torch extended a hoof and murmured a few words I couldn’t make out. A second later several amethyst bolts shot out of his hoof, slamming into the unicorn. Where the attacks hit the necromancer’s skin turned dead and grey, almost like a corpse.

I needed a few seconds to realize what had just happened. Torch had feathering lied to me. He was a feathering necromancer too!

The unicorn seemed just as flabbergasted as everyone else there. “But how ... you don’t even have a horn!”

Torch drew himself up to his full height. “How? Because I am Torch Charger, and you are just a two-bit thug who can’t even begin to grasp the truth of the high arts.” His next attack struck the unicorn, and for a second I could swear I saw two of the unicorn, as a weird sort of ghostly afterimage got ripped out of the unicorn’s body.

The necromancer fell to the ground, dead as a stone.

I still had a lot of questions, but they could all wait. For right now, I had a chance to end this stupid fight. “Surrender! The lot of ya!”

None of the Third Company troops moved. Glory had slumped down and looked like he was struggling to stay sensible through the pain and blood loss, and most of the rest were nervously looking between the dead necromancer and my new pet warlock.

One of the remaining Third Company officers stepped up. “We still outnumber them! Just because Glory’s down doesn’t mean—”

Talon’s next bolt caught him in the throat before he could get any further into his inspiring speech. There were times I truly loved that mare.

I put my axe into the officer’s head to finish him off. “Anyone else wanna be a hero?”

I managed a weary smile as blades started hitting the deck. At least this damned stupid fight was over. Now I just had to figure out what to do with most of a company’s worth of captured Strikers. Not to mention Torch.

Author's Notes:

As always, thanks to my pre-reading and editing team for all their hard work. Also, I would like to thank all my dedicated Patreon supporters. You guys are awesome.

Click here if you want to join the list of awesome people who support my writing.

Aidan Hall
Alt Grendel
Batbrony
Benjamin McLaren
BikerDash
Borg Lord
Brion Wauters
Charles M. Hagmaier
ColdSilverD
Combine
Comma-Kazie
Creideiki
Cyanhyde
DaB.
Darkarma
Deep Cover
Dixie Daley
djthomp
dkia
Edmon Star
Emily Hartsay
Emlyn Costilow
Errant
FallenAngelXy
Forderz
Guldane
Jessica T
Mapguru
Peter Coulthard
Ponibius
Rowan Yote
Shank
Sweet Gale
Sylvain Colinet
Trinary
waritah
Zennyth

The Last Charger 4

Winning a battle is always nice. Surviving it is even better. Managing to pull off both was a rare treat. However, it came with a bunch of complications, especially when the only reason we won it was thanks to the newest member of my company pulling a rather big surprise out of his plot. Soon as things were settled enough that I felt safe leaving Talon in charge for a tick, I dragged Torch off to my cabin for a little chat. “The feather was that?!” I snarled at him.

Torch weathered my wrath with a stoic sort of calm that just pissed me off even more. “I believe they call it magic, sir.”

“You gave me your word that you weren’t some damned necromancer like the rest of your clan turned into.” I stomped up to him and glared into his eyes. “I don’t like being lied to. I suggest you start explaining yourself fast, before I decide to toss you in with the rest of our prisoners.”

“I saved your life,” Torch pointed out calmly. “And what I did was not necromancy. You asked me if I was a necromancer, and I told you I was not. You never asked if I had training in any other magical arts.”

I scowled and took a seat, waving for him to occupy the other. “You didn’t think that maybe you should mention that at some point?”

Torch settled in and shrugged. “Do you tell everyone where you hide all your backup daggers? A mercenary’s life is a dangerous one, and I only just met you. It’s only prudent to keep one or two hidden backups for any nasty surprises your enemies might have in store. Or your friends.” He met my glare with a much calmer, unwavering gaze. “I like you, captain. I think you’re a good stallion who’s fallen on hard times. I think you deserve better than the hand life has dealt you, and I doubt you have any evil intentions towards me.” His eyes narrowed just a bit. “But I’ve been wrong about that before.”

I wanted to argue the point, but the damned fool was right. Mercenary life isn’t pretty, and I’d run into plenty of mercs who’d decided that putting a knife in my back meant one less person to split the profits with. Torch didn’t seem like the sort to do that, but the good backstabbers never were. After all, you never turn your back on a greedy asshole you know will betray you as soon as he gets a better offer. After what happened to his clan Torch had no reason to trust anyone named Striker or Doo, so I couldn’t really blame him for keeping stuff back. Didn’t mean I had to be happy about it.

Speaking of his clan... “You said you were just a common clanpony. Magical training like that wasn’t something they offered the grunts.”

Torch sighed and nodded. “Yes, I suppose I did lie to you about that.” He took a deep breath and sat up a bit straighter. “I am Torch Charger, son of Sanguine Charger and Firebrand. And yes, as you guessed, I came from a bit higher up in the clan.”

“A bit higher up...” I snorted and quickly consulted my vague memories of what the upper echelons of the Charger family tree used to look like. “Feather me sideways, you’re Magnus’s nephew! If...”

He nodded glumly. “Yes, I would be the leader of my clan if it still existed.” A bitter twist of a smile pulled at his lips. “Though only because my uncle went rushing towards his doom, and then the rest of my family, including several older siblings, died in the purge. Being the Paterfamilias by default is nothing to be proud of.”

I grunted and nodded. “Right. So fine, you can do magic. If it’s not necromancy, then what the feather is it?”

Torch sighed. “How much do you know about the twelve classical elements of Zebrican shamanism?”

“Why don’t you just take it from the top.” I’d picked up a fair bit over the years, but having it all laid out by a supposed expert wouldn’t hurt. If nothing else, it’d help me figure out a bit more about what his deal was.

“Alright then.” He took a deep breath. “So, the zebras believe everything in the world can be divided into twelve elements. The corporeal elements of Earth, Fire, Air, Water, Wood, and Metal, and the ethereal elements of Light, Dark, Order, Chaos, Life, and Death. The magic I use taps into the last of those elements, Death.”

I crossed my forelegs over my chest. “And I assume that’s different from necromancy?”

“Incredibly so.” I caught a hint of a scowl on Torch’s lips. “Death is an inevitability for everything that lives. Even the likes of Celestia and Argentium who are untouched by the passage of time will eventually meet their end. Necromancy seeks to pervert the natural order, to deny one of the most fundamental laws of the universe and twist beings into something that is neither dead nor alive, and whose very existence is an insult to both.”

“Funny perspective from someone whose family were necrocrats,” I pointed out. “Surprised they trained you in a type of magic that goes against the sort they were using.”

Torch closed his eyes for several seconds. “Considering most of our rivals were other necrocrats, is it really that surprising? Not to mention we spent a long time trying to diversify our skillset. My father married a unicorn pyromancer for a reason. And while I certainly began my training with my family, I have had other teachers in the decade since the purge. The whole reason I wasn’t there when it happened was because I was training under one of the old masters in Zebrica.” He grimaced and shook his head. “And ... I loved my family and my clan very much, but that doesn’t mean I agree with everything they did.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “That make you some kind of conscientious objector?”

Torch shook his head. “Nothing so grand as that. I wasn’t old enough to really object when my clan was still alive, and if they were still here I probably would’ve found a way to rationalize their practices. A decade without them grants a new perspective.”

“Sure does.” I’d certainly realised just how bad some of my clan’s horseapples was once I wasn’t mixed up in it anymore. No point dwelling on that; it’d just make things worse for both of us. “So, what am I supposed to do with you now?”

Torch shrugged. “I see no reason you have to do anything. I've been helping your company and I intend to keep doing so for the foreseeable future. If anything, my value to you has increased substantially.” He smirked at me. “You’re getting a talented battlemage at the standard rates for a fresh recruit. Quite a bargain.”

I grimaced and shook my head. “If you’re going to be a feathering battlemage, we’ll pay you like one.” A good spellcaster would do a lot for the company’s image and ... maybe not quite respectability, but we’d get taken a lot more seriously by clients. “You having spells doesn’t bother me nearly as much as the fact that you lied to me about who and what you were. I get why, can’t even say I wouldn’t do the same in your shoes, but there’s a big gap between understanding it and liking it.”

“Indeed so.” Torch rose to his hooves, going over to the dingy cabin window and staring out it. “Telling you I was a Charger at all was a huge risk, and there are plenty who would kill me just for the name. Finding out I was one of the clan’s elites...”

“Right.” I scowled down at the decks. “The company’s coffers are looking a bit thin, and I could probably turn your head in for a fortune to the right people.”

“But we both know you would not.” Torch was infuriatingly calm. “For all your flaws, you still have far too much of a moral center to do something like that.”

I scoffed. “You think I’m one of the good guys? Just when you have me thinking you were a smart one. Even Talon knows I’m a washed-up old drunk who’s barely holding the company together when he’s sober.”

“Perhaps.” Torch’s eyes settled onto me. “But you weren’t an especially heavy drinker before the purge. Only someone who cares about right and wrong feel so much guilt over not being able to stop an evil that the pain of it drives them to self-destruction.”

I scoffed. “If how much I drink is a measure of my righteousness, then they oughta make me the next Pillar of Harmony. Speaking of which...” I stomped over to the cabinet and pulled out a bottle. “Nicked this out of Glory’s cabin. Let’s see if the bastard had better judgement in his booze than in the rest of his life.” I poured out two glasses and took a sip of the stuff. It made me want to gag; at once too sweet and too sour. “Nope.” I was still tempted to finish the bottle off on principle, but after the day I’d put up with I knew that once I started drinking I wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. Better to save that for once we got back to port. I offered the bottle to Torch. “You want it?”

“No thanks.” Torch set his untouched glass aside. “What do you intend to do with him, anyway?”

“That your way of asking if you can use that fancy sword of yours to make him a head shorter?” I thought it over for a moment, then snorted and shrugged. “Go for it. Probably shouldn’t be telling you to go ahead and kill one of my clanmates, even if he’s only family by technicality, but if anyone deserves a chance to kill him it’s you. Might even be a mercy, compared to letting him slowly bleed out or having the wounds get infected.”

Torch sighed and shook his head. “Revenge isn’t really a priority for me. Probably because if it was, I would’ve gone crazy a long time ago. Cutting off the head of a downed, wounded man ... no, not a line I feel like crossing. If he’ll already die of the wounds he took in battle I won’t shed any tears, but if I start killing for revenge I’m not sure if I’d be able to stop until half of Freeport was ashes. Dreams of revenge destroyed my uncle Magnus, and I won’t make the same mistake. There are ... better uses for my time and energy.” He took a deep breath. “What do you plan to do with the other Strikers we took prisoner?”

I shrugged helplessly. “I'm still figuring that out. Our contract says that we can turn over my prisoners to our employer to add to the cargo stocks. We’ll even get a nice cut of the action.” I scoffed and spat into the glass filled with Glory’s swill, then dumped it out the porthold. “Not gonna happen on my watch. We may have just fought them, but they’re still family, and I’ll be damned before I sell my kin as slaves.”

Even without the fact that it was just feathering wrong, doing that was the kind of thing that’d get every other Striker hunting for my head. Even if the bonds holding all the Strikers together didn’t count for much, selling clanmates into slavery would be enough to pull them all together for long enough to kill me. Not to mention they’d all rally behind feathering Nightshade, and the idea of giving that bastard any sort of moral high ground revolted me.

“The world doesn’t need more people in chains,” Torch agreed. “But if you’re not turning them over, what are you going to do with them? Leave them all locked up for the entire trip back to Freeport? We’d need half the company to act as jailors.”

I grimaced and briefly considered refilling the glass with something that was actually halfway drinkable. Not a good idea today. After going up against Glory, if I had a drink anytime soon I wouldn’t stop, and until we got back to Freeport I was on the job. A merc captain who ties one on between jobs is fine; one who’s getting hammered on the job won’t be getting work from anyone who can afford better. “Probably just going to head tax them and leave them as parolees until we can let them go in Freeport. Not like I can keep them prisoner once we hit the islands anyway.” Even if the other Strikers didn’t try to bust them out, it wasn’t like there were any authorities worth the name to turn them over to.

Torch took a deep breath. “There is another option.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” A second later I realized what he might be getting at. “You better not be about to suggest I kill or maim the lot of them, or I might reconsider some things about your place in our company.”

Torch scoffed and shook his head. “Hardly.” It still took a bit for him to actually make the proposal. “Your company is plainly understrength, and they are Strikers. Given their rather poor performance and how badly Glory failed in front of them, many would likely be eager to find greener pastures.”

“First time I’ve ever heard someone say joining my company would be a step up.” Though the kid wasn’t wrong. I might not be worth much, but Glory was the sort of leader whose value could only be measured with negative numbers. However, there was a big problem with taking in any of his leavings. “You know they were involved in the massacre of your clan, right?”

“I know Third Company was involved,” Torch answered. “I also know that it happened a decade ago, and mercenary companies have a high turnover rate.”

He wasn’t wrong. “A lot of them are like you, too young to have taken part in that mess. Half of them were probably still learning which end of a spear to hold when it all went down.” I sighed and ran a hoof down my face. “Doesn’t mean they’re angels. They still signed on with Third Company despite knowing what they did, and worked under Glory for years. Even if they didn’t do that, odds are they did something nasty.”

“We’ve all done things we regret,” Torch responded. “If you insist on only recruiting mercenaries with a clean conscience, you’ll have a very small company indeed. And you would have to resign as well. At the very least, we should make the offer and consider whether any of those who are interested would be worth having.”

“Right, not like we can’t just look over the ones who’d be willing to join up and turn down the bad seeds while keeping the good ones.” I frowned, tapping a hoof on the deck. “I’ll think it over and run it by Talon. ‘Course, that’s assuming there are enough of them interested in swapping sides to be worth the trouble. Glory wasn’t much of a leader, but loyalty still counts for something. Anyone who’s eager to turn on him would probably be just as quick to plant a knife in my back if I was on the losing team.”

“We certainly wouldn’t want to recruit any serial turncoats,” Torch agreed. “But there is no reason you cannot exclude them from consideration while taking in whichever Strikers you think can still be salvaged.”

I sighed and nodded. “We’ve got plenty of time before we reach Freeport, might as well make a project of it to fill in the idle hours. Even if only one or two of them are worth having, we could certainly use the new blood.”

“Just so, sir,” Torch agreed. “If you want any help with judging the candidates—”

“I’ll ask Talon,” I cut him off. Not that I minded him offering to help, but this was for the two officers to handle. Besides, I wasn’t sure about letting him do some sort of weird death magic on them to see if they passed muster or not. I’d mostly moved past him lying about his powers, but that didn’t mean I was on board with letting him throw magic all over the place. “You’re already busy checking over everyone’s gear. Now that we’ve got a whole bunch of fresh steel to go over you’ll be busy until we’re back in port. Though good news for you, if we get any defectors they’ll join you.”

Torch sighed and nodded. “Small favors. I don’t suppose you could give me something better to do with my time?”

I smirked. “Kid, you should know by now that that only reward a merc gets for a job well done is more work.”

Probably says something about the quality of my life that talking to the new recruit I suspected of being a necromancer was not the worst thing I had to do that day. After all, the chat with Torch had gone pretty well, all things considered. Not that I’d loved the fact he lied to me and left out some pretty damn important information, but at least I got why he did it. Probably would’ve done the same in his shoes. Didn’t exactly make the lies okay, but it was a lot easier for me to move past it than if he’d been lying just to be an asshole.

Speaking of assholes, that brought me to the next item on my to-do list. Glory.

Talon was keeping an eye on him when I got to the cabin we’d stuffed him into. It wasn’t one of the nicer ones, but on a ship even a small private cubbyhole was a luxury. Seemed the least we could do. Last I’d heard, the medics were still giving him a good going-over, but apparently they’d finished while I was talking things out with Torch. Judging by the grim frown on Talon’s face I already had a pretty good idea of what the news was going to be, but I asked anyway to get it confirmed. “How’s the prisoner doing?”

“Dying,” Talon answered bluntly. “Can’t say I’ll miss him, but it’s not going to be a pretty one. Doc says something in his guts is broken, and it’s going to poison his blood and kill him barring a miracle. Bad way to go.”

“There aren’t any good ones.” I grunted and scowled down at the planks. “But yeah, know what you mean. Dying quick in battle is a lot better than having it dragged out over a couple days in bed.” I wasn’t gonna say Glory deserved to die, but making a production of it wasn’t my style.

Talon seemed to agree, judging by her next remark. “Half-tempted to just leave a blade for him and walk out. Though knowing him, if we gave him a blade he’d try to plant it in one of us for a last bit of revenge rather than do the honorable thing.”

“Sounds like him,” I agreed. Still, there were ways to get around that. Not like he’d be in any shape to move fast, and I could always toss him the blade right before I closed and locked the door. “If someone’s gonna do that, it'll be me. One of the perks of being the big boss, I get to decide who gets offered the chance to off themselves. Besides, I’m the one who put him in that shape. Seems fitting.”

“As you say, sir,” Talon murmured. “Want to have a word with him? Been trying to keep someone nearby until he’s gone.”

“Good call.” Glory might have been a sorry excuse for a Striker, but he was enough of one to deserve a deathwatch. “Take a break. I’ll keep the bastard company until you can get a meal, and maybe once I’m done with him we won’t need anyone else to take over.”

Talon grimaced and nodded. “Thanks, sir.” She marched off down the narrow corridor, stretching her legs and wings as she went. “Might be a good idea to break out a bit of the spare grog ration. It’s been a rough day for everyone.”

“You’re telling me.” The only thing keeping me from crawling into a bottle for the next couple days was a stubborn sense of duty that probably wouldn’t last much longer. But I wasn’t quite ready to run away from my problems yet. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for whatever was waiting for me within.

The first thing I noticed when I stepped into the cabin was the smell. That disgusting, sickly-sweet of death and decay. I’d almost gotten to the point where the smell didn’t bother me anymore, but that just meant that now I was worried because it didn’t upset me anymore. When I stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind me Glory glared up at me. “Come to admire your handiwork?”

I scoffed and shook my head. “Nah, I’m not the sort of bloody-minded bastard who comes to gloat over someone while they’re dying.”

“Is it guilt then?” Glory spat out a mixture of phlegm and blood. “Come to ask my forgiveness for killing your own kin?”

“You killed yourself,” I snarled. “Gave you plenty of chances to back down or not have it end in blood. I’m not proud of killing you, but I’m not gonna lose any sleep over it.”

Glory tried to laugh, but it turned a series of painful wracking coughs. “I forgot how much of a self-righteous bastard you are. For a washed-up old old drunk you always seem real sure you’re the only guy who can tell what’s right, and everyone else is just an evil ass.”

I wasn’t about to get into an argument with the guy. Wouldn’t do any good, and getting pissed at a dead man was the very definition of pointless. “If you want, I can leave a dagger when I leave. No sense dragging it out for however long it’ll take when you can make it fast.”

Glory scoffed. “Why not just slit my throat yourself? You already killed me, making me finish the job doesn’t change that.”

“Didn’t think it would,” I grunted. “But I don't murder wounded soldiers who’ve surrendered to me. Just figured I’d give you a chance to cut the suffering short. If you want to make your death as long, ugly, and painful as possible it makes no difference to me.”

Glory glared at me. “Oh don’t pretend you’re not loving every minute of this. Bet you angled the knife to make sure I’d have the nastiest death you could manage.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I enjoyed giving you the kind of beating your momma should’ve given you when you were still kid. But watching you die slowly and painfully? Not my thing. I like my kills quick and simple, and honestly I would’ve been fine with sending you home with nothing more than a bunch of bruises and a bit more humility.”

“But I don’t see any tears over killing me,” Glory shot back. “And not like you tried to stick that knife somewhere safer.”

“Hard to stab a guy hard enough to take ‘em down without a risk of killing ‘em,” I countered. “But yeah, I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t enjoy it. Can’t say the world will miss a murderer like you. Could even call it justice. If Torch had asked for your head I wasn’t gonna tell him no.”

“Murder?” Glory scoffed. “We’re all killers, you stuck-up condescending fool. Only difference is you’re a bad at it, and try to make yourself think that makes you better than us.”

I scowled at him “I’ll kill someone in a fair fight, but I don’t execute people who are down, helpless, and begging for mercy. There’s a big difference between the two. If you can’t figure that out, then maybe I oughta just leave you to die slow.”

“Is that what you think I did?” Glory groaned and flopped weakly into his bedroll. “Feathers, it was just a job.”

“It wasn’t just a job,” I snarled at him. “You killed off an entire clan. One of the last remnants of Old Pegasopolis. Our ancestors fought by them for centuries. They’re practically family. You—”

“Family?” Glory cut in. “Maybe four hundred years ago, back when Pegasopolis was still around. But it’s time you woke up and realized that what happened centuries ago doesn’t matter anymore. Maybe they were our friends and allies once, but that’s ancient history. Out in the real world they were just a bunch of backstabby necros who got out-backstabbed. They were no more kin to us than half the other necros in Freeport, and you better believe they would’ve put a knife in our backs first if they thought they were getting something out of it!”

I sighed and shook my head. “Guess it was too much to hope for a bit of deathbed repentance. Least we can put on your grave that you died like you lived; a worthless sack of horseapples that the world’s better off without.”

Glory snarled. “Good thing you’re not leaving me a knife, ‘cause I’d bury it into you if it was the last thing I did. Go ahead and slit my throat and get it over with. Anything’s better than listening to more of your sanctimonious horseapples.”

I turned about and headed for the door. “Well good thing for you I’m done with this. Gotta see how many of your troops want to serve under a real commander.”

I was almost out the door when Glory fired off his parting shot. “None of my men are so desperate that they’d serve under a drunk and a kinslayer.”

I should’ve ignored the barb, but Glory had always had a knack for getting under my skin. “You started the fight, and you weren’t exactly pulling your punches. Bet you wouldn’t be feeling a lick of guilt if you’d skewered me or sliced my head off.”

“No,” Glory admitted. “You always were an asshole. Once you ran off with your company, changed the name, and stopped reporting in I knew you’d gone rogue. Nightshade just keeps your lot on the rolls to avoid admitting that he lost Tenth Company. Far as I and anyone else with a working brain is concerned, you’re not a Striker anymore. That’s what happens when you turn on your own kin.”

“You...” For a moment I was tempted to go up to the worthless son of a nag and give him a couple swift kicks in the gut to teach him a lesson. Not that I gave into the temptation, but it was a pretty damn strong one. Only reason I didn’t, aside from basic decency, was to not give him the satisfaction of dragging me down to his level “Feather you too, butcher.”

I slammed the door behind me on my way out, snarling half a dozen colorful curses about Glory and his extended family tree. Which probably involved a fair bit of insulting my own ancestors as well, considering we were clanmates.

I was into my third minute of increasingly colorful language when Talon found me. She sighed softly. “Sounds like it went as expected.”

“I think I had more fun the last time I went to the dentist,” I growled.

“Sounds right.” She sighed and shook her head. “Not sure how we should feel about him dying. Glory wasn’t much of a Striker, but he was still one of us. It’s ... well I can’t say I feel guilty about it when he brought it on himself, but I suppose I feel guilty over the fact that I don’t feel more guilty. If that makes any sense.”

“Yeah, it does.” I sighed and scratched at my beard. Some dried blood flaked out of it, probably from one of the nicks I’d taken during the battle. Grooming hadn’t exactly been my top priority. “Big surprise, the old history came up again. The bastard is about to die, and he isn’t sorry for a single damned thing he’s ever done.”

Talon snorted. “Did you really think he would've learned by now? He’s spent his whole life being himself, not like he’d change his mind in the last five minutes.” She cocked her head to the side. “Not like you to try and see the better side of people, sir. It’s almost ... optimistic.”

She had a point. Maybe it was Torch’s perspective rubbing off on me a bit. I mean, the kid seemed to have held onto an awful lot of decency despite life dealing him enough of a shit hand that nobody would’ve blamed him for being an enraged revenge-seeking psycho. He didn’t want to lop off the head of a guy who deserved it, and was even willing to give a second chance to the soldiers who served under someone that had helped destroy his family. That was a lot more forgiveness than anyone had a right to expect. Probably part of why I’d let Torch’s lies slide.

Still, if the kid was having that much of an impact... I scoffed. “If I’m an optimist, then the world is in worse shape than I thought.”

Author's Notes:

As always, thanks to my pre-reading and editing team for all their hard work. Also, I would like to thank all my dedicated Patreon supporters. You guys are awesome.

Click here if you want to join the list of awesome people who support my writing.

Aidan Hall
Alt Grendel
Batbrony
Benjamin McLaren
BikerDash
Borg Lord
Brion Wauters
Charles M. Hagmaier
ColdSilverD
Combine
Comma-Kazie
Creideiki
Cyanhyde
DaB.
Darkarma
Deep Cover
Dixie Daley
djthomp
dkia
Edmon Star
Emily Hartsay
Emlyn Costilow
Errant
FallenAngelXy
Forderz
Guldane
Jessica T
Mapguru
Peter Coulthard
Ponibius
Rowan Yote
Shank
Sweet Gale
Sylvain Colinet
Trinary
waritah
Zennyth

The Last Charger 5

After all the horseapples I’d gone through I was ready for this damned day to be over. At least the day seemed to be accommodating me, considering the sun was finally going down. Wouldn’t have put it past Celestia to drag the day out a bit longer, just to mess with me. Not that I figured I was significant enough for her to notice, but life just seemed to love kicking me while I was down. It’d figure if she needed to make the day last a little longer for some reason, and it just so happened to fall on a day I couldn’t wait to see the tail end of.

I headed up to the crow’s nest. Spear was on watch duty, but all I had to do was order him off to get the place to myself. Not like anyone was likely to complain about being taken off watch duty. Once I was on my own, I pulled out what I’d planned to make my only companion for the evening; a bottle of grog. I couldn’t say much for the quality of it, but it was strong enough to get me good and drunk. That was all I needed.

When all I wanted was some time alone with a bottle of booze, you can imagine how happy I was when Torch showed up before I’d done much more than crack it open. “Sir.”

I groaned and quickly stashed my drink away. Letting the new recruit see me drinking myself into a stupor wasn’t something a responsible captain should do. I took a deep breath and tried to make myself look somewhat respectable. “I sure hope you’re not here to give me a bunch of bad news, because it’s supposed to be Talon’s turn to deal with trouble right now.”

Judging by the disapproving frown she’d shot my way when I turned command over to her for the night, she knew exactly what I was up to. Wouldn’t have put it past her to send the kid up here just to stop me. She hadn’t made a secret of her low opinion of my drinking, even if she’d given up on fighting me over it directly. Feather it, she was right that I needed to quit. Just ... tonight was no night to go sober.

“No news, sir.” He hovered in front of the crow’s nest. “Just thought maybe you could use a friendly face.”

For a moment I was tempted to grumble something about how I was fine, or just abandon any pretense of niceness and tell him to feather off. I shrugged off the impulse, and pulled out the bottle. “I don’t have any glasses, so if you want any sips you’re gonna have to drink from the bottle like me.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Torch answered, keeping his expression neutral enough that I couldn’t read whether he disapproved or just wasn’t in the mood for a drink. Whichever it was, he settled into a reasonably comfortable spot in the rigging that kept him close enough for conversation. “I presume this is because Glory passed.”

“And the world’s a better place for it,” I grunted, pulling out the cork and taking a swig. “Bastard should have died a long time ago.”

“I could hardly disagree,” Torch stretched out his wings. “So why did you go find somewhere to drink once you found out?”

I frowned, staring down at the bottle as I thought it over. “Too many damned memories. The clan, him, everything. You know how you said if you ever started thinking about revenge it’d drive you nuts? Well, this is how I keep from going crazy.” I snorted and took a pull from the bottle. “You know how many ponies from his company were willing to jump ship to my crew?”

“Yes, I heard.” He glanced back down at the crew quarters, which were a lot fuller than they’d been. “Even with casualties factored in, it’s a big net gain. I suppose you should be glad that tenth company is all the way back to full strength.”

“You’d think so.” I swirled my bottle a few times. “I’m not sure what bothers me more. That Glory was such a bastard that most of his company was willing to dump him the first chance they got, or that our clan’s in such bad shape that a de facto exile can so easily gain the loyalty of so many of them.” I scoffed and shook my head. “I know the clan elders don’t say anything good about me, so they’ve gotta know how it’s gonna look to sign up under me.”

“Is that what you think?” Torch chuckled softly. “Perhaps you don't know your reputation as well as you believe. Or you’re just so old and cynical you’ve forgotten how much young ponies disdain their elders and admire a rebel. The noble exile can easily be a figure of romantic mystery. Especially one who did so for your reasons.”

I scoffed and took another swig. “And what the romantic and daring lifestyle I’m leading. One more bad break away from my company falling apart from under me, and my employer pissed at me because I wouldn’t sell my kin as slaves. The only thing taking a noble stand did was keep the blood off my hooves. It didn’t stop the rest of them from going through with it anyway.”

“Perhaps,” Torch conceded. “But I recall an old saying I’m sure you're fond of. That we should never meet our heroes, because a hero is a perfect symbol no real living, breathing pony can live up to. If you actually meet them, they can only let you down and fall short of your expectations.”

“Sounds about right,” I agreed.

“Consider this, sir.” Torch tapped his hooved together. “You made a dramatic exit, walked away from the clan as part of a righteous moral stand, and for the last decade none of them have met you. If they chose to idolize you, they haven’t had to see you take an ugly job, or get drunk, or nursing wounds from a bar brawl. The only thing they know about you is your stand against the elders and your self-imposed exile. Their dreams and imagination fill in the rest.”

For the first time in years, I was gobsmacked. Torch ... wasn’t exactly wrong. Kids love anyone who talks back to authority figures, and could get a bunch of damn fool notions in their heads. “Guess that’s one way to look at it. Though it means that the best thing that can happen to them is that they never meet the actual, old, broken down, drunken fool I am. That’s why martyrs are always the best heroes; they die before they can let you down.” I sighed as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. “Not that having false hopes does anyone any good. It just leads to disappointment and delusion.”

“Yes,” Torch agreed, only to change courses a minute later. “False hopes do that.”

His tone piqued my interest. “Take it you’re about to make a counterpoint?”

“Call it the difference between false hope and optimism,” Torch answered. “Yes, our heroes aren’t perfect, but sometimes we need to believe in things that aren’t true. That's the only way we can make them real.”

Sounded like a load of horseapples to me, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. “If you think so. I’m no philosopher. They tried hammering some of that into my head back when I was a kid, and like most of the stuff they try to teach you at that age it went in one ear and out the other. Keep it simple, what’re you getting at?”

Torch shrugged, staring up at the stars. “Just thinking out loud.” He shifted around a bit so he could face me directly. “I know everyone says you’re a massive cynic, and you don’t seem inclined to argue with them, but I disagree. A cynic wouldn’t take a moral stand like you did. No, that takes something special. It takes belief.”

“Belief?” I repeated, not quite sure what to make of such a wild claim. “Belief in what?”

“Morals? Ethics?” He shrugged. “You’d know better than me.”

I grunted and shook my head. “Me, an idealist? Don’t think anyone’d go that far. All I know is that there are lines I won't cross. Nobody’s gonna tell their kids they should look up to me and follow my example, but at least I’m not a child-killing bastard or one of the other monsters I have to share the street with in Freeport.” I frowned down at the bottle in my hoof. “Maybe I was a bit more of an idealist ten years ago, but things change.”

“Yes, they do.” He turned to the side, directly facing me. “And so long as we’re on the topic. I am sure you know that there are those who want to change Freeport for the better.”

“And I want a bottomless bag of money and a bottle of rum that never goes empty,” I grumbled. “Might be you’ve noticed there’s a big gap between wanting something and making it happen. There're always people with big dreams like that, and you can see how much they’ve gotten done. There’s been talk about making Freeport a better place for centuries, and you can see how well it usually ends up going.”

“The Council seems to be making an effort and gaining momentum,” Torch pointed out.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “Oh yes, the glorious Council for the Emancipation of Freeport, we can’t forget them. What’re they really? Bunch of wide-eyed idealists and revolutionaries. Freeport’s had plenty of those before, and you know how most of them ended up. And that’s assuming they are what they say they are. Guys who run around with their faces covered ... well, hard not to wonder if maybe they’re hiding something.”

“A resistance movement does need a measure of anonymity,” Torch pointed out.

“Sure,” I granted. “Just saying, it could be a good excuse to cover up some kind of really dark secret. Not to mention rebellions aren’t cheap, and someone has to be paying the bills. Could be they’re catspaws for one of the necrocrats to screw over the others, though my money’s on the Equestrians. Not like it’s any secret they’ve got a beef with the ‘crats. Just saying, raises questions about their agenda.”

“What makes you assume there has to be more than what they say?” Torch asked. “An end to slavery and the necrocrats, and a new regime to replace them is already an ambitious enough goal, and rather objectively noble.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the kid. I knew I probably shouldn’t, but it was just so... “Have you read any of Freeport's history, Torch? ‘Cause if you had, you’d know the Council is just the same as every other group. When they’re first setting up and establishing their legitimacy they talked a big game about changing everything for the better.” I counted them off on my feathers. “The Shining Path said they were gonna make a morally pure and upstanding nation after they tossed out Blackbeak the Pirate King. What they did was make one of the most oppressive and dogmatic regimes Freeport ever saw, run by a bunch of loonies who thought sticking a spirit into a mortal body and driving them crazy in the process was a good idea.”

Torch started to open his mouth, but I didn’t let him get started. “Then the zebras came in and said they were gonna bring stability and order. What we got was constant war and chaos when everyone who didn’t fancy a stripey sultan took up arms to fight them.” I counted off the last point. “And the Necrocrats? Ushabti talked a good game about building a prosperous and stable nation that allowed intellectual freedom and the right to practice whatever sort of magic you wanted as long as you didn't hurt anyone. Look at what we wound up with: a bunch of backstabbing bastards who see everyone in Freeport as a future zombie to exploit for free labor.”

I swirled my bottle, staring down at the contents. “You ask me, idealists who’re sure they’re the good guys are dangerous. They’ll toss you aside if you get in the way of their greater good, and be convinced they’re a hero for doing it. Least with a stone cold bastard you always know where you stand.”

Torch waited a couple seconds to make sure I was done talking, then responded. “Yes, that’s true. And if the Council succeeds, then perhaps in time their successors will become just as decadent and corrupt as every other group of high-minded idealists. But that doesn’t change the good they can do here and now. Accepting a current evil for fear of a possible one in a vague, nebulous future seems like a poor decision.”

“Assuming they actually pull it off.” I took another swig from my bottle. “You know how many revolutions actually manage to overthrow whatever regime is pissing them off? It ain’t many. Odds are, they’ll just get a lot of people killed to not change a thing. But let’s say they do pull it off. First step of a successful rebellion is to purge the old guard. Means a short rope and a long drop for the necrocrats, and anyone even loosely connected to ‘em.” I frowned as a particularly worrying though sprang to mind. “Might be worth considering that they’d probably lump you into that group.”

Torch raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

I shrugged. “Your family were necrocrats, and not everyone’s going to stop and ask you for an explanation of why your death magic isn’t necromancy. Revolutionary bloodlust isn’t all that careful in picking its targets.”

“All too true,” Torch agreed. “Though I suppose if it comes to that, I could always emigrate to Equestria or Zebrica.” He shrugged. “And even in the worst case, I suspect I would be far down the list of enemies of the revolution. Well after the ones responsible for my clan’s death, since in all likelihood it was one of our rivals among the necrocrats. We certainly had no shortage of enemies plotting our downfall.”

“Only way to not piss someone off is to never do anything,” I agreed. “Actually, no. Plenty of folks hate apathy and inaction too.”

“Such as our clients,” Torch agreed. “I take it that if members of the Council attempted to free our client's slaves, you wouldn’t stand aside?”

“Don’t think I could,” I agreed. “I'd be very happy if we got through this job without any more trouble; Glory was bad enough.” I sighed and sipped a bit more grog. “I hate this job, but I made a contract. Took their money and promised I’d do everything I could protect them. Wouldn’t be right of me to leave them high and dry after that. Isn’t that part of my 'romantic image' you were going on about earlier?”

Torch frowned, turning his attention back to stars. “Hmm. I suppose it would be. Still, you hate our job and our client. I doubt most of the world would condemn you for letting the slaves go free.” He shook his head. “But then, I doubt you care what most of the world thinks one way or the other. For you, it’s a matter of personal integrity.”

“Something like that,” I conceded. “Reminds me of a saying my dad used to have: if the world says you’re wrong, you probably are. But if you sit down, think it over, and still decide you’re not, don’t be afraid to tell the whole world that they’re the ones who need to change their ways.” I took another drink. “Easier said than done. The problem isn’t that I’d make the world mad at me, it’s that I’d piss off exactly the wrong people in Freeport if I did. You should know what the Necrocrat my employer's working for would do to me if I ‘lost’ his precious cargo. And I gave ‘em my word. They might be slaving scum, but that doesn’t mean I get a free pass to be just as bad.” I took a deep breath. “The bottom line is that as captain my first duty is to protect my company. We were in a tight spot in that craphole Port Nowhere, and this will get us out of it. Simple as that. Once this job’s done the slaves are welcome to bust out.”

“I can respect that,” Torch nodded along. “Regardless of everything else we took a contract, and should honor it. Pity the contract says we have to get them all the way to safe harbor.”

“They don’t usually like to leave big, obviously exploitable loopholes in contracts,” I agreed. “So yeah, we do this job, and get it done and over with.” I leaned back in the crow’s nest, looking out over the ocean as the sun set, casing it in tapestry of brilliant red and orange. A poet could probably say something all fancy and heartwarming about it. All I could say was it looked nice. “We'll see about getting a better job once we get back to Freeport. This was a one time deal if I have anything to say about it. With how mercing goes, I might be hitting this exact same ship on their next trip, if this client’s rivals want to foot the bill. Or the Council, I guess. Long as the pay’s good and I can still sleep at night once the job’s done, I’m not picky about where the gold comes from.”

“So being an accessory to slaving is something you can live with?” Torch probed.

I scowled, not especially liking the question or his tone. Before I could tear his head off I realized exactly why the question pissed me off so much. Probably ‘cause it hit a little closer to home than I liked. “Can’t say,” I admitted. “Letting my company die wouldn’t sit right with me either, so seems like I was doomed to drinking myself to sleep either way.”

“Mmm.” Torch nodded, seemingly to himself. “Do you want to be alone, so you can get to that, sir? I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed.”

I snorted. “You offering to keep me company?” I thought it over for a second. “Well, it’s less pathetic than drinking alone, but it comes with some risks. You might have to get my drunk plot down and into bed when I’m three sheets to the wind. Not to mention you run the risk of an old soldier telling you a bunch of tall tales about a mythic time where things were better, and the crazy things I got up when I was your age.”

Torch frowned and rubbed his chin, then shrugged. “Well, I finished checking over all the new gear, and I don’t have any other plans for the evening...”

Despite all the horseapples the last couple days had thrown at me, that put a smile on my face. “Heh, alright then.” I frowned down at the bottle, then tossed it over to him. Least he wasn’t Talon. Last time I’d tried to talk her into being my drinking buddy, she accidently wound up spilling all the booze. “Company’s better. This way at least I won’t feel like a lonely, forsaken old sot drinking alone until something finally gets around to killing him.”

“Very well then.” Torch took the bottle, not letting any of it go to waste. Even better, he passed it back to me after only taking a token sip. “So tell me a story of the good old days.”

I took another swig, letting it slosh around in my mouth as I stared up at the stars. “Hmm, which one to go with? How about the time me and my squad got sent out to save some young Necrocrat’s son from a group of ghouls who slipped the leash and went independent.” I snorted and shook my head. “Arrogant brat had his ransom tripled because he just had to tell them who his father was. Probably figured that since ‘do you know who my father is?’ got him out of every other problem he’d gotten himself into, it’d work here too. Or maybe he was playing a deeper game than that. After all, once the ransom was paid and we got him back the devious brat offered us a job to get some revenge on the pirates and...”

The rest of the night went pretty well, from what I could remember of it. Torch was the best kind of drinking buddy; he let me have almost all the booze for myself, and kept me company no matter how many of the old stories I tossed his way.

Couldn’t lie, I was getting downright fond of the kid. Not that I loved him lying about his magic, but after everything he’d been through I couldn’t blame him for being a little cagey, especially around Strikers. He had a good head on his shoulders, and having a battle mage in my company opened up a lotta new options. And ... well I’m not normally one for misty-eyed sentiment, but helping to keep the last of the Chargers alive sounded like a good way to ... well maybe not make things right, but make ‘em a little less wrong. With any luck, I could keep him in one piece long enough to meet a nice mare, settle down, and get to work making sure he wouldn’t be the last of his clan after all.

When I woke up the next morning, I regretting letting myself get so hammered last night. Not just because I had a nasty hangover that made the bit of light drifting in through the porthole feel like a pair of daggers stabbing into my eyes, though that didn’t help. I could barely remember anything that had happened last night, most of it gone in a drunken haze. Which was a damned shame, because the bits I could remember told me it had been a night worth remembering. Talon usually just rolled her eyes when I went on about the old days.

Speaking of my second, she started pounding on my cabin door well before I was ready to go out and face the world. Normally I would’ve told her to go do several colorful and anatomically impossible things, but if she was pounding on my door that hard while we were at sea it could only mean one thing. A second later she confirmed it. “Sir, trouble.”

Should’ve known. The one night I decided to slack off on my responsibilities and have just a little bit of fun, the universe would punish me for it. I’m just lucky that way. I groaned, resisted the urge to put a pillow over my head and try to ignore her, then forced myself to get up and open the door. “Okay. What sort of trouble?”

Talon didn’t waste any time tutting over the fact that I was obviously hung over, which told me that things were serious. “Ships. Three of them. Not flying any colors, but they’re setting up in a triangle around us. North, South, and West are all cut off, and unless we want to ground ourselves on that island East is out.”

I groaned and rubbed at my eyes, trying to get them working well enough to function. “Pirates?” I went over to the porthole and had a quick look around. Sure enough, we were way too close to land. “What’s the captain thinking, putting us here? I’m no sailor, but even I know we don’t want to get pinned against the coast.”

“Blame the client,” Talon murmured. “Rain’s been a bit slimmer than they’d like, so they wanted to stop off on the island to refill their water barrels.” She grimaced and shook her head. “Their cargo isn’t worth anything if they die of thirst before we hit Freeport.”

“Right,” I splashed some water on face, which at least helped speed the wake-up process up a bit. “Guess the why doesn’t matter anyway; this is where we are. No sense moaning about it when we’re about to have a fight on our hooves.”

Talon nodded. “Right, sir. Not sure who we’re dealing with just yet, but with any luck we should be able to figure out something. Get your spyglass and meet me in the crow’s nest?”

“Right.” I looked down at myself, taking note of the fact that other than a dirty, ill-used sleeping shift I didn’t have a single thing on. “Let me strap on my armor and my gear. If trouble’s coming for us, it’d be downright rude not to make sure we were ready for it.”

“Right.” She nodded to my gear, piled up on the dresser far too neatly for it to have been me who put it there. “Don’t take too long.”

I gave it all a quick once-over as I strapped it on as fast as I could without making a mess of it. My gambeson had that non-smell of something that had been properly cleaned out, and the rest of my gear had gotten some much-needed care. Not that I was sloppy about keeping it in good shape, but apparently Torch’d decided to go the extra mile. I vaguely recalled him doing that last night, mostly for something to keep his hooves busy as I told him about the time we helped take down that gang of vampire pirates.

Talon was waiting for me in the crow’s nest, barely sparing a glance at my slightly nicer looking gear. Bigger stuff on her mind, judging by the three distant shapes dogging us. “Better have a look, sir.”

“Right.” I checked each of the dots, then used my telescope to try and get a better look at the closest one. The ship wasn’t as big as ours—none of them were. Light little coastal galleys, great for hunting around in the islands and a lot faster and nimbler than us, but not at all suited to deep ocean. Too bad we weren’t out there.

Of course, the ships weren’t near as interesting as the crew. There was only one group that was crazy enough to go around in full face-covering masks. “Well well well, the glorious Council for the Emancipation of Freeport has decided to grace us with their presence.” I scowled at the distant ships. “Or we’re up against someone who thinks it’s cute to dress up like them. Though that’s real pointless if they’re hitting a slave ship.”

“Wonderful.” Talon sighed. “Out of all the enemies we could be up against, they’re the worst. Mercs just want to survive. True believers...” She frowned at the ships, studying their positions. “Looks like right now they’re focused on boxing us in. Probably want to make sure we can’t run for it or hold them off while the big ship escapes.”

I frowned and thought it over for a bit. “Yeah, probably. Galleys are made for coastal sprinting. If we get out into the open ocean and turn it into a stern chase, they’d have to give up. Especially if the weather is anything other than nice and calm. Big question is how exactly they plan to come after us once it’s time to stop dancing and get down to the bloody business.”

“Easy enough to guess,” Talon supplied. “Three lighter, more maneuverable ships up against our one bigger but less nimble ship. Only makes sense to pick tactics that maximize their advantages and minimize ours.”

I grunted and nodded. “Begs the question of which one they’ll go for. Could be they aim to try and make us go chasing after one of them while the other two go for the cargo. Or maybe they just plan to dance in and out and whittle us down bit by bit.”

“Neither one’s ideal for them,” Talon pointed out. “Trying to draw us out of position depends on us being stupid enough to take the bait. Not saying there’s no way they could, but it’d need to be tasty enough bait that they risk their trap turning against them.”

“And trying to whittle us down runs afoul of the fact that we’ve got a crew of pegasus veterans,” I added. “They try to play coy, and I’m fine with hitting them from the sky. Fliers can play the hit and run game just as well as speedy little ships, and even if they’ve got us outnumbered if you count all three ships together, we’ve got more and better fighters than any one of those ships on their own.”

“But they can only hit one ship at a time.” Talon frowned and shook her head. “It’s all a question of if we can isolate one of the ships and pin them down before the other two jump on our back. Won’t say we can’t pull it off, but they’ve got a big advantage in any sort of maneuvering game. We’ll have to be sneaky. Least we have some options; isn’t one of the old rules that you should never split up your forces in the face of a superior enemy?”

“Yup.” I frowned at the ships. “Question is whether they’re dumb enough to not know that rule, so sure of themselves that they’re not worried about breaking it, or if they’re trying to make it look like they’re making a mistake to bait a trap.” A nasty thought sprang to mind. “Or they’re just keeping an eye on us and making sure we don’t get away before something heavier shows up.” I was willing to bet that the Council didn’t have any problems with pointing the Equestrians toward any slave ships they couldn’t take on their own. They were both anti-slavery, after all.

Talon grimaced. “They’ve got no shortage of options. Unless you want to go chasing after them, best we can do right now is keep an eye on them so we’ll spot whatever move they make as soon possible.” She gave me a quick once-over, no doubt noticing my bloodshot eyes. “I’ll keep watch, you might want to have a word with the troops.”

“Probably for the best.” I wasn’t that hung over, but the prospect of spending a couple hours staring at ships and all that sun reflecting off the water didn’t sound all that appealing. Not that I loved the idea of gearing up for a fight either, but there wasn’t any choice about that. “I’ll get ‘em ready, you just let me know when we’re about to be on the sharp end.”

Talon snapped off a quick salue I barely caught as I flew down to the deck. A fair number of the troops were already on deck, and Torch seemed to be making the rounds checking everyone’s gear. If the kid was trying to impress me, he was doing a damn good job of it. I cleared my throat to make sure everyone was paying attention. “Looks like we’re set for another fight. Guess it’s just our luck this trip, everyone wants a piece of us.”

“We truly are blessed,” Torch murmured. He stepped up next to me, and seemed to need a moment before he spoke up. “Can I have a moment to speak to you in private, sir?”

“Really not a good time,” I growled. ‘Course, Torch had to know as much just by basic common sense. Which meant he wouldn’t even ask unless... “This important?”

“Very.”

I nodded, then trotted off to a part of the ship where nobody else was hanging around. “Make it quick then.”

Torch took his time actually speaking up, and when he did he couldn’t meet my eyes. “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you, sir. I told you my sword didn't have a name.” He took another breath, probably to gather his nerves. “Its name is Chainbreaker.”

Was that it? Did he really think him giving that fancy sword of his an equally fancy name was some sort deep dark secret meriting all this drama. Though I’d grant that if you had to come up with a name for a sword, I’d heard a lot worse than Chainbreak...

Wait a minute...

Son of a nag!

The kid spent all last night pushing me for what I thought about the Council. Right before a Council fleet shows up in a perfect ambush formation, and then he wants to tell me about how his sword’s got a name that’s only a touch subtler than Emancipator or Slavefreer.

No ... I didn’t wanna believe. But then, that’s how all the best backstabs work. They get you when you want to believe they couldn’t ever possibly betray you. After all, you never turn your back to someone you expect to put a knife in it.

I snarled, my hoof itching to grab my axe. “Might as well be called Traitor or Backstabber if this is going where I think this is going.” I hesitated just a moment, then quietly added. “Be real nice if this is where you tell me I’m getting way too paranoid in my old age.”

“Would that I could.” Torch sighed and shook his head. “It doesn’t need to go this way. I’m after your clients, not you. All you need to do is stand aside.” He stretched out a hoof towards me. “Or you could do more. Join me.”

That caught my attention. “Join you?” I frowned at him. “You think they’d just buy me turning coat when I was escorting the slavers a minute ago?”

“They will if I vouch for you,” Torch answered.

Now that was intriguing. “And who the feather are you to have that kind of pull?”

“We don’t exactly have a fully fleshed out chain of rank and command,” Torch answered. “But to give some context, I’m on my way back to Freeport after a mission to negotiate with Sultan Xanatorus for support.” He shrugged. “Admittedly, having a prestigious name and no reason to hide my identity helps in that regard. Unlike most of our soldiers, I have nothing left to lose. Or at least, I had.” He offered me his hoof once more. “So yes, if I vouch for your character, they will accept you. Please, the Emancipation Council needs soldiers like you.”

I snorted. “If they need a soldier like me they must be desperate.”

“Experienced, determined leaders who do not give up no matter how bad the odds?” Torch shot back. “Yes, we do need those.” He fixed his eyes on me. “And you need us, Belladon. I know a lost soul when I see one. You need a cause, something to believe in once more. It’s time to stop drowning your sorrows in the nearest bottle of alcohol, and seize the chance to be the great stallion you were always meant to be.”

Wow. Screw being a slave revolt leader, Torch had clearly missed his true calling of talking people into making bad investments. Too bad I’d seen his kind before. “I told you, I don’t break contracts. And even if I did, I’m not about to get me and my company killed in some damned foolish revolution or whatever it is you and your friends are up to.”

Torch sighed and shook his head. “I suppose you won’t even stand aside then?”

“No.” I scowled at him, but honestly I was too damned tired of all this Freeport horseapples to even be mad. At least Torch had come clean about it. “It took a lot of balls, or a lack of brains, to come to meet me face to face like this. Would’ve been a lot safer and smarter to cut my head off while I was passed out last night, or just bail and fly off to join your friends.” I thought about it a second more, then said something I’d probably regret later. “Get gone, kid. Go join up with your friends if you have to, but if you want my advice ... get outta Freeport. Change your name, settle down and find a nice mare, and get to work raising enough kids to start rebuilding your clan.”

Torch sighed and slowly shook his head. “Not the answer I hoped for, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, if your convictions were that easy to change, you wouldn’t be worth recruiting in the first place.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Before I could ask what he meant by that, he provided the answer. He flicked one of his hooves and muttered something in a language I vaguely recognized, and suddenly his entire hoof was covered in a dark purple nimbus of crackling power.

An instant later my knees collapsed. If not for Torch catching me and guiding me down, I would’ve slammed face-first onto the deck. I tried to get back up, but my legs barely even twitched. Even when I finally managed to get them back under me, they didn’t have enough strength left to hold up a housefly, let alone a full-grown armed and armored stallion.

I managed to flop my head around enough to get a good look at the rest of my company. They were all flopping around like a bunch of landed fish, probably about as useful as I was. “What ... what did you...?”

Torch shot a wistful smile my way. “Giving a spellcaster unfettered access to your entire company’s equipment for several weeks might have been a mistake. I hoped it would prove a needless precaution, but ... well I’m sure you understand my position.”

I tried to go for one of my hidden knives, but just reaching the sheath and pulling it out took so much effort it felt like I’d run three marathons in a row. “You ... backstabbing...”

“I truly am sorry it came to this.” The thing that really pissed me off about him saying that was that I could tell he wasn’t lying. He wasn’t a good enough actor to fake the regret in his eyes. Probably still wished I’d joined up with his crazy lost cause. “But then, you will shortly be released from your current contract, and the Council does hire mercenaries from time to time.”

He snapped off a quick salute with Chainbreaker. “Don’t worry, I’ll spare your men: I have no wish to harm you or any of them. A poorly chosen job is hardly deserving of a death sentence. Now, your clients...” He shrugged helplessly. “Well, I’m afraid you won’t get paid for this job after all. Just be glad you’re not on the same ship as the hundreds of angry, vengeful slaves we’re about to set free.”

Evidently satisfied he’d gotten the last word, Torch turned about and launched himself off the deck, heading straight for the fat-bellied freighter. He must have signalled the other ships, because they closed in and went to town on the helpless freighter.

By the time Torch’s spell wore off, the Council ships and the freighter we’d been escorting were long gone. All that was left of our clients were a couple corpses floating in the ocean, waiting for the sharks to come in for a meal.

Author's Notes:

As always, thanks to my pre-reading and editing team for all their hard work. Also, I would like to thank all my dedicated Patreon supporters. You guys are awesome.

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Interlude 1

Our newest base of operations was a touch nicer than the last one we’d used. It was one of the out-islands that hadn’t been properly settled simply because it was out-of-the-way and too far from any of the major shipping lanes. The last one the Council had set up shop on had just been a chunk of wetland barely high enough out of the water to qualify as an actual island. Sacrifices must be made when selecting hidden island bases nobody could ever find or stumble upon.

It was hardly a surprise the Council had moved since the last time I’d been back at headquarters. The Necrocrats and slavers were trying to hunt us down, and we had to stay one step ahead. Even if a lot of our members used the anonymity of masks to blend into normal Freeport society, we had to have facilities to take care of entire ships full of refugees and maintain our own little fleet of privateers.

All the buildings in our base gave away its transitory nature. Almost everything was a tent, made to be packed up and moved at a moment’s notice. The dock was one of the few semi-permanent structures, and even it was barely better than a bunch of crudely hacked and bound logs. Even if we had someone who knew how to build something better, we could hardly invest the time and resources into it when we would have to abandon this base at the slightest hint that Freeport’s masters had found us.

As our victorious vessels sailed into the harbor with a fresh cargo of newly liberated slaves, I found something rather unpleasant waiting for us: a large company of armed guards, all dressed in Council garb. Nobody outside the leadership council usually bothered with cloaks and masks while we were at home base. It probably would’ve been safer to stay hidden at all times, but hot and humid tropical weather made it less than pleasant. That many armed and masked guards meant they were expecting trouble.

I flitted across the bay from the lead ship, landing in front of them. At least nobody tensed up at my arrival, so I knew it wasn’t me they were here for. “What’s going on?”

One of the leaders stepped forward, leaving the rest of the group behind to have a private talk with me. “Torch, good to have you back.”

I smiled, recognizing the speaker despite the cover. “It’s good to be back, Cornflower. But you didn’t answer my question.”

Cornflower sighed. “Hate it when you do that, the whole point of this costume is to hide my identity.” She shook her head. “Anyway, no time for small talk. We’ll need to process the slaves you liberated before we let them off the ships.”

I didn’t like the sound of that one bit. “Process them? They’ve been in chains for weeks. The last thing they need is to spend more time imprisoned, however nicely we go about it.”

“Trust me, I don’t like it either.” Despite the mask, I could tell Cornflower was scowling. “There were some problems with the last set. Apparently some of the coastal nobles in Gryphonia and Zebrica realized they could empty out their prisons by selling off everyone inside of them to the slavers. A lot of them were just debtors, politicals, or had just fallen on hard times. Some of them were in prison for a very good reason. There was trouble in the camp. The sort of trouble we can’t afford a repeat of.”

“Damn.” I suppose I should’ve seen that coming. The slavers were bound to pick up some bad apples eventually with how many they kidnapped, but still... “How long will it take? Keeping them locked up after what they’ve been through doesn’t sit right.”

Cornflower shrugged. “As long as it takes.” A second later her voice softened. “We’ll try to go fast, but I’d rather keep them under custody for a bit then find out we turned another monster loose in the refugee camps.”

“That’s ... the best we can do under the circumstances.” Much as I disliked the idea of keeping the newly freed slaves under any sort of confinement, Cornflower had a point. Just because they were all victims of the slavers didn’t mean all of them were innocent. Not to mention other potential threats: the Necrocrats had already made a few attempts to infiltrate our ranks, and odds were they’d eventually try something like mixing a few spies in with the slaves we rescued.

Cornflower nodded. “That’s life. Anyway, while we get this taken care of you should get freshened up. The leadership wants to see you as soon as you’re ready. ”

“So noted.” I smirked and leaned in to whisper to her. “Though obviously I won’t need to hurry too much. I doubt they would start without you.”

“Torch!” Cornflower hissed, her voice dropping to a far harsher whisper. “Just because you don’t need to wear a mask doesn’t mean the rest of us can get away with it! The leadership needs to stay anonymous for damned good reasons, and you know it.”

“Which is why I wasn’t announcing it to all the world,” I answered with a relaxed smile. “I was whispering, and it’s just the two of us.” I let that linger in the air for just a moment, then sighed and shook my head. “But you’re right, I should be more careful.” As my father once told me, you can always have the last word in an argument so long as that word is ‘yes, dear.’

She let out a frustrated little sigh, shaking her head. “Just try not to do it again. You know how bad it could get if the Necrocrats find out who’s running the Council. We already had a close call when they caught one of us last year. It sounds wrong to say it, but I’m glad they just killed him outright. The only reason that happened was because they had no idea who they’d caught. If they caught me and knew who I was, they’d stop at nothing to extract every last piece of information I could give them.” Despite the mask, I could tell she was grimacing. “I don’t think I’d break under torture, but I’d rather not have to find out.”

“You say that as if I wouldn’t save you.” Despite the bravado, I knew she was right. “But yes, I know, secrecy is important.” I smiled at her. “I suppose I just couldn't control myself with how happy I am to see your lovely face again.” A second after I said the compliment, I realized the problem of saying that to a mare wearing a mask. “In a certain manner of speaking.”

Cornflower snorted. “I know you think you’re a charmer, but it’s too much fun when you try and fall flat on your face.” She leaned in just a bit to whisper. “Though if you play your cards right, you might get a chance to see it later.” She poked my chest. “After you meet with the Council. Business before pleasure.”

“Yes of course, priorities.” I smirked and dramatically lifted the corner of my salt-stiffened cloak. “I doubt they want me go through the entire conversation smelling like a month of ship-born sweat and no proper baths.”

“I know I certainly don’t care for it.” She poked me again. “You’re lucky you’re almost half as charming as you think you are, because that goes a long way to make up for the smell. At least for a few minutes. Now go clean up, Council’s orders.”

I grinned and snapped off a somewhat cheeky salute. “Well, far be it from me to refuse orders. By the time the Council is ready for me, I shall be the very image of cleanliness.”

I cannot say for certain if I became a proper paragon of hygiene, but I was certainly far more presentable when the leadership council finally summoned me. It truly is incredible how much of a difference a good bath and a fresh set of clothes can make. I felt like a new stallion. Or at least a much-better looking one. I’d even broken out one of my favorite cloaks for the occasion, a lovely shade of blue with cream lining. I should like to think I cut a rather dashing figure, especially with Chainbreaker at my side.

The leadership were waiting for me in one of the larger tents within our current encampment, though it could more properly be called a pavillion given the size and the fact that it was strung between several coconut trees. The accommodations were as always rather basic; a few quick benches roughly shaped with wood axes to be good enough to serve. At least this time we’d settled on an island that had some local plant life. Having some coconuts to supplement our usual staples of fish and kelp would go a long way. Smuggling other foodstuffs from Freeport proper or raiding a plantation for supplies was far riskier than subsisting on what we could get from local sources.

There were only four of the Council’s leadership here today; the numbers almost always seemed to wax and wane. Some of them were doubtless out in the field, or handling other projects like Cornflower had been. Others might be dead. As Cornflower pointed out, our operations were rather risky, and casualties did happen.

Well, I suppose if one wanted to be technical there were five of us here rather than four of them. But then, my place in the Council’s leadership was a bit unique. Not bothering with the anonymity the rest of them preferred made me a bit of an oddball, though it was quite useful for times when we needed a somewhat more public face. Not to mention I was usually far too busy being out in the field making a real difference to sit around making decisions.

I smiled and snapped off a quick salute with Chainbreaker, surreptitiously shooting a wink at Cornflower as I settled into the seat they’d provided for me. A quick slice of my blade cut a coconut in half, providing me with a bit of refreshment. “You summoned me?”

“Yes, thank you for coming.” Despite the best efforts of his robe and mask, Marcellus couldn’t quite hide who he was, at least to me. Hippogryphs do tend to stand out a bit. “As you can probably guess, we’d like a report on your mission.”

“Naturally.” Considering how that mission had gone, I thought it best to start on a positive note. “My thanks for arranging the ambush of the slaver ship I’d borrowed on such short notice. I’m glad we managed to get something good out of it.”

“You can thank the commodore of our fleet for that,” Zenia murmured, despite the fact that I knew full well that the lovely Zebra mare was in fact that very same commodore. The pretense of anonymity could be quite tiring at times. “Hopefully this new batch of freed slaves will be able to help us in our struggle.”

“That was my hope as well.” I sighed and shook my head. “We could certainly use the help, considering how the rest of my mission went.”

“You’re referring to that side project?” Cornflower queried. “Your message did say you were hoping to turn the mercenaries guarding the ship, but evidently they weren’t willing to commit to anything more than neutrality.”

“Something like that, yes.” No need to mention that Belladon had fully intended to uphold his contract until my magic foiled those plans. Far less troublesome if the rest of the Council believed he stood aside willingly, especially since I hadn’t given up hope of winning him over. “But the matter of the mercenaries was more of a personal side project, compared to the visits to Gryphonia and Zebrica.”

“And what results do you have from those?” Free Strider asked. While the robes did a good job of hiding his frame, the touch of Northmarch in his voice would need something much more than a mask to conceal.

“I am afraid the cynics amongst our ranks will be vindicated today.” I sighed and drank a bit of coconut milk. “The current High Queen of Gryphonia spoke long and eloquently of her desire to aid us, but offered precious little in the way of substantive promises. It seems she is quite willing to aid us so long as that doesn't require her to actually expend any resources or take any risks.” I scoffed softly. “Evidently she is in the midst of some difficulties with her barons. I am sure some of them are the same barons who evidently have taken to selling their prisoners off to slavers. I suspect domestic matters occupy the majority of her attention.”

“Typical,” Marcellus snorted. “Regardless of who holds the throne, the gryphons have never been interested in anything that doesn’t directly benefit them. She’ll talk a good game and use us as an excuse to hammer any recalcitrant barons and raise taxes, but I wouldn’t count on any of that translating to gains for us. Did you have any better luck with the merchant princes in Westmarch?”

“No.” I grimaced. “Or at least, a more immediate term no. They’re happy to sell anything we can afford to our smugglers, but convincing them to give us a loan or sell on credit is a much more difficult prospect, let alone any sort of gifts. They want some assurance that we're actually going to be viable before they offer us anything beyond taking our cash.”

“Hard to convince anyone to loan us money when we could all be dead before we pay them back,” Zenia murmured. “How did things go with the Empire?”

“I wish I could say the zebras gave me better news.” I finished off the first half of my coconut. “Their eyes remain fixed upon Port Nowhere. The island has little economic or strategic value on its own, but it's always stung their pride that they lost territory to Freeport. They want us to keep the Necrocrats distracted so they can snatch the island back without a full-scale war.”

Zenia shook her head. “Even if we were willing to make a deal like that, if the news of it ever got out it would destroy our public support. The last thing we need is for Necrocrats to have a way to paint us as traitors selling out to foreign powers. Especially the zebras, considering they were the ones Ushabti liberated the islands from to start this whole mess.”

“That would be a rather massive problem,” I conceded. The moral high ground was one of the most valuable assets our revolution had, and the last thing we needed was to give that up. “Not to mention that I rather strongly suspect any aid the zebras had to offer would dry up as soon as they have Port Nowhere firmly under their control.”

“Assuming they’re not fishing to invade Freeport again,” Free Strider pointed out. “A lot has changed since the last time they tried, but if they think the islands are so divided they’ll make for easy pickings...”

“Equestria and Gryphonia would have something to say about that,” Cornflower pointed out. “Though just because it would be incredibly stupid doesn’t mean we can assume the Empire would never do it. If everyone only ever made rational decisions we’d have a lot less problems in the world.” She sighed and shook her head. “Aid from Zebrica was always the option that came with the most baggage in any case. Not that I would’ve said no if it came without too many strings attached.”

“Then the entire journey gave us nothing,” Marcellus concluded. “Or close enough to it, in any case. Small surprise, considering the recent troubles we had with some of their local nobles selling criminals to slave ships. Much as they might decry the slave trade in public, they are happy enough to profit from it. Perhaps they also fear what might come of encouraging ideas of freedom and revolution which may spread beyond Freeport’s borders. Whatever their reasons, there are still other nations to appeal to.” His attention shifted a bit towards Free. “What about Argentium and the North?”

Free shook his masked head. “Argentium will support us in principle, but she’s never shown much interest in meddling with affairs outside her own borders. We could almost certainly recruit a few young idealists eager to make their mark on a grand heroic adventure, but the North is more a collection of loosely aligned autonomous communities than a proper nation. One of our number is already there managing efforts to recruit new volunteers and win over donations. And even if the odds of soliciting Argentium choosing to involve herself directly are poor, I doubt she would turn us away empty-hooved.”

“Be that as it may,” Zenia cut in, “We need more than just a few over-eager volunteers and what coin they can spare. Of all the nations we could petition for aid, I am curious why we didn’t send Torch to the one nation taking substantive action against the slave trade. Equestria is on the verge of open naval warfare with the Necrocrats after all their anti-piracy patrols. Compared to that, funding us seems tame. As it is some of the anonymous donations collected by our agents in Equestria almost certainly came from the crown in some form.”

“Celestia’s fine with aiding us covertly,” Cornflower stressed. “The problem is we need more than a couple thousand bits slipped to one of our agents by somepony who may or may not work for the EIS. Openly assisting us comes with a lot more complications. Not to mention that when it comes to sending an ambassador...” Her masked face briefly turned to me. “It’s hard to ignore the fact that Torch’s uncle lead an invasion of Equestria a decade ago. Even sending someone else could just draw more attention to the fact that we didn’t send Torch.”

“Not to mention one of you would need to unmask,” I pointed out. “Ambassadors usually don’t go around in full disguise. Even if you could persuade the Equestrians to accept an envoy in full costume, it would certainly put a bit of a damper on things.”

“Why can’t we just send Torch?” Zenia pressed. “I can’t imagine Celestia would blame him for the sins of his uncle. Besides, what we’re doing is a lot more important than personal baggage.” She turned to face me. “If you need to apologize and disavow your uncle’s actions to get us the funding we need to free thousands of slaves, then swallow your pride and do it.”

Easy to say when it wasn’t her family. Not that I approved of what Uncle Magnus did, but there was a big difference between expressing my private opinion and publicly denouncing him. Still, the cause mattered more than my personal qualms. I wasn’t going to leave anyone in chains just to save a bit of my family’s very badly tarnished honor. “If it comes to that, I will do what I must. I never said it would be impossible, just complicated.”

Marcellus nodded. “Then it sounds as if you’re willing to undertake the task, regardless of the risks and potential issues. I think that regardless of a few minor bits of personal baggage, you are still by far the best choice for our envoy. You have experience at the task, a certain natural talent for it, and it wouldn’t put one of our other members at risk.”

I couldn’t disagree with any of that reasoning. Hopefully Celestia and the other Equestrians would just politely ignore the fact that my uncle tried to invade them. Granted, that might be a bit hard when last I heard Magnus Kicker was one of her top military advisors. As the name rather indicated, he had been the other major player in what the Equestrians called the Battle of Two Magnuses. All things considered, that was probably a much clearer name for it than Magnus’ Folly, especially since that begged the question of which Magnus we were talking about.

Well, if I was going to go to Equestria there were a lot of details to hammer out. Not to mention a few possible opportunities to pursue on other fronts. “Do you want me to go as a solo envoy again, or should we make it a touch more ceremonial?”

Cornflower quickly spoke up to support me. “I think it might be better to send him out with a bit more pomp. Celestia’s court will have a much better impression of him if he comes escorted by a nice-looking retinue. If it’s just him, it would be far too easy for him to come across as little more than a vagabond begging for a handout.”

“Appearances do matter,” I confirmed. “I hope we can spare funds for it?”

Free Strider sighed softly. “We can probably scrounge up enough ducats to pay for it.” While the mask covered his face, I could still hear the frown in his next words. “Though bear in mind that any money spent on pomp for the royal court is money that can’t be spent on something else, like food for the refugees.”

“Trust me, I know.” I grimaced and tried to put a good spin on it. “Think of it as an investment in our future. With any luck, we’ll secure enough aid from Equestria to make up for the expense several times over.”

“We know, otherwise we wouldn’t be giving you the money,” Marcellus answered. “I don't think I need to tell you that getting a real commitment from Equestria could make a huge difference for us. Not that the back-channel aid hasn’t been appreciated, but right now we’re scraping every last bit just to get by. Every time we have to raid a plantation just to make sure our refugees have food in their bellies, it makes it that much easier for the Necrocrats to call us nothing more than a group of pirates and bandits.”

“Not to mention the effect it would have on morale,” Zenia pointed out. “Just knowing Equestria is on our side and we’re not alone in the fight would do a great deal to reassure everyone that we can actually win this fight.”

“And it would doubtless bring in more private volunteers and donations,” Free Strider added.

Cornflower was the last to speak up. “It would also go a long way towards winning over all the forces that might like to support us, but aren’t sure about our viability. Westmarch will almost certainly revisit their decision if Equestria declares for us. It would certainly make the Council look like a much safer investment.”

“And a dozen other things besides,” I concluded. “Right now, we’re just an insurgency. If we can get Equestria on our side, we’ll be well on our way to becoming a revolution.”

Though all the important points had already been covered, the Council meeting still dragged on for several more hours before we’d hammered out all the pesky little details. Or at least most of them. Not to mention helping me get caught up on everything that had happened in my absence. Overall things were going well in the broad sense, but we weren’t making enough progress. Freeing a few hundred slaves was a laudable victory, but for every slave we freed a dozen more still languished in chains. Slow, gradual progress wasn’t good enough for them.

Once the meeting was over we all went our separate ways. After an hour or so Cornflower must have decided we’d gone through enough subterfuge to throw off anyone who was a bit too curious, and invited me to join her in her tent. What followed after that was private enough that I could hardly fault her extra security, and immensely enjoyable.

Once we had finished, the two of us lay together on her pallet, my forelegs wrapped around her and holding her against my chest. Necessity had required the removal of her robes and mask at the beginnings of the proceedings, allowing me to see her properly. Well perhaps not seeing her unmasked in the strictest sense, but this mask was far more charming than the one she normally wore. “Ah, I truly have missed you.”

Cornflower smiled up at me, her bright blue eyes framing a lovely face the color of pale cream. “Right back at you.” One of her hooves slowly trailed up and down my chest. “It’s a shame you have to leave so soon. I was hoping we would get a few days to relax before you had to head out for your next mission.“ Her lips puffed out in a slight pout. “Though I imagine if you asked for a few days off we wouldn’t say no. Granted, my vote would be a bit biased.”

“Don’t think I’m not tempted.” I sighed, slowly stroking her golden curls. “But much as I would love to linger with you, I doubt I would be able to actually relax if the whole time I was thinking about the slaves suffering because the delay. At least we have this evening, and I intend to make the most of it.” I made sure the tent was well and properly secured shut. “You can take your natural form if you want.”

Cornflower’s eyes flicked to the entrance, and her voice dropped to a careful whisper. “We have privacy, but not that much privacy. This one doesn’t need to explain how much trouble we would all be in if someone saw it in its natural form.”

“Yes, yes, security first.” I thought she was being a touch paranoid, but that was nothing new. After all, she was a changeling who went usually went around in full robes and a facemask. And considering how powerful and dangerous our enemies were, it wasn’t so much paranoia as a mild excess of caution.

“Right, we need to be safe. Thanks for the sentiment.” She leaned up and pecked my cheek. “Best case, if someone sees me there’ll be a huge panic that’ll take forever to calm down. That’s not even getting into what would happen if word got back to the Necrocrats, and if the Old Mind were to discover where the Free Minds had run off to...” A shiver ran down down her spine, and I instinctively pulled her in closer.

That brought up a very worrying possibility. “The last thing we need is Chrysalis to find out where you are and decide to ally with the Necrocrats, especially when our own missions to recruit allies have been less than successful.”

Cornflower grimaced and shook her head. “That would be the end of it. We wouldn’t have any choice but to go on the run again.” She scoffed softly and shook her head. “Wouldn’t that be sad? Even in a nation of exiles, we’re not welcome.”

“You’re definitely welcome here,” I assured her. “But yes, it would be best if we didn’t add to our current troubles.”

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “Anyway, let’s not dwell on the past, or work ourselves into a frenzy worrying about everything that could go wrong in the future. Or ruin our one evening together by complaining about how it’s not more. Let’s focus on something a bit less depressing. How are your little side projects going? You did say you were hoping to follow up on a few leads while you running over half the globe.”

“I was, and I did try.” I sighed and shook my head. “I managed to follow Sanguinius’s trail all the way out to Port Nowhere, but it’s been fifteen years since anyone saw him there. Best guess is that he went to the Dromaed lands.”

“What’s that guess based on?” Cornflower asked.

“The fact that he completely dropped off the map, and it’s exactly the sort of insanely dangerous place an immortal thrill-seeker like him would go to.” I let my head rest on her shoulder. “I doubt he even knows about what happened to the rest of the Chargers, and that’s assuming he didn’t end up in a tyrant-lizard’s stomach. None of the other leads on surviving Chargers panned out either. I fear that if any are left, they’ve fled far and hidden as deep as possible.”

Cornflower gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Maybe after we’ve won they’ll feel a lot safer about coming out of hiding.”

“Maybe.” I wouldn’t count on it, though. They’d been in hiding for a decade, more than enough time to build a new life under an assumed name. Giving all that up would be hard, and for what? Much as I loved my family, the Charger clan I had known was a pale, corrupted shadow of its past glories. I wouldn’t be shocked if some of the other survivors might feel the same way. Much like with Belladon and his clan, the Chargers who had remained far from the clan and maintained only loose ties were likely the ones who didn’t care for its current leadership and direction.

Thinking of the Striker mercenary reminded me of my other worries. “My attempt to win over Belladon also failed, at least for the moment. It’ll be a lot harder to win this war if we can’t get him or someone like him on our side.”

“I can’t see why,” Cornflower sighed and shook her head. “The clans aren't what they once were, Torch. You should know that better than anyone. Maybe they have a grand and glorious history that stretches back for hundreds of years, but look at what they are now. It’s not that hard to find other mercenary companies with prestigious origins. The Blood Stripes were founded by the supporters of an exiled Zebrican prince, the Talonmasters were the second sons of the highest nobility in Gryphonia ... I could name a dozen more, but I think I’ve made my point.” She gently stroked my mane. “I get that you’d love to recruit the only clan captains who refused to go along with the attack on your family, but I don’t see why you think we need him that badly.”

Ah, now there was a difficult question. “There’s more to it than just my personal desires. Right now we have eager volunteers. They believe in the cause and they want to help, but they don’t have combat training.” I held up a hoof to cut her off. “Yes, you and Zenia are doing a great job with practice drills for your forces, but there’s a big difference between our fighters and soldiers with a lifetime of training like the clans have. We need commanders, tacticians, engineers, logisticians, and a dozen other specialties if we’re ever going to accomplish more than bandit raids and light piracy.”

“Yeah, we do need that,” Cornflower agreed, “But why do they have to come from the clans?”

“I’ll take them from wherever we can get them,” I conceded. “But our options are slim. Belladon and his clan forces are our best shot at actually recruiting to the cause. I’ve run the numbers on what it would take to hire mercs to do the job, and it’s not pretty. Just getting a company for one job of light escort and ceremonial duty is putting a painful dent in our budget.”

I took a deep breath. “And there’s another factor. The clans might be a pale shadow of what they once were, but they still have a name that used to count for something. Westmarch and probably a lot of others are sympathetic, but want something to prove we’re a viable movement before they commit to us. Getting the clans on our side would help prove there’s something serious here, and that’s before we start getting bigger wins with their help.”

Cornflower sighed and shook her head. “It’s the old problem of nobody wanting to be the first one to take a risk. Nobody important is willing to support us because nobody important has supported us yet. It’s ridiculous, how are we ever supposed to make them happy?”

“By finding someone who cares more about doing what’s right than about recouping an investment or being on the winning side,” I answered. “Like a stallion who defied his entire clan and went rogue rather than go along with committing an atrocity. And as it stands, I do need to find a company to serve as my escorts.”

Cornflower shot an incredulous frown my way. “You’re thinking to hire Belladon? I’m not an expert on him, but somehow I doubt his company would be very good for ceremonial duties.”

“I imagine he’ll manage.” Especially since he doubtless needed money badly after how his last job had worked out. I regretted putting him in such a difficult position, but I could hardly let hundreds be sold into slavery just to help his finances. “Not to mention it would give me a bit more time to try to win him over.”

“Assuming you even can,” Cornflower countered.

“Now now...” I gently poked her chest. “I have it on very good authority that I’m incredibly charming. From a member of the leadership council itself.”

Cornflower snorted. “Because this one is a sucker for dashing young stallions who don’t know when to quit. I doubt you’re Belladon’s type, and considering you’ve never asked me to take on the appearance of a grizzled stallion a few decades older than you, I rather doubt you could convincingly work your charms on him.”

I chuckled. “Well, I wasn't planning to seduce him. You need not be jealous. You’re the one who holds a special place in my heart.”

Cornflower scoffed and lightly slapped my chest. “Right, of course. I’m sure you weave that tale to the pretty mares you have in every port. Or non-equine females, for that matter. And don’t even try to deny they exist. You’re far too young, adventurous, and charming for me to believe there aren’t other mares in other ports.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong, but I hardly wanted to be churlish about it. She’d certainly never expressed a desire for this to be anything more than an enjoyable liaison on the rare times our paths crossed. “I might have said it a time or two.”

She shot a wry grin my way. “So how many of them believe it?”

I shrugged helplessly. “Some of them might have. But I assure you, when I say it to you it is the pure, unvarnished truth.”

“That better be true.” Cornflower playfully jabbed my belly. “This one will find a way to make you regret those words if they’re not.”

I held up my hooves in mock surrender. “I would never lie to you, my lovely.”

“Good answer.” She kissed me, then let her cheek rest on my chest. “Even if you have a bit of an overblown opinion of how charming you are, I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”

“I’ll miss you too.” I slowly stroked her curls. “Does it help to say I’ll be back soon?”

“Definitely.” She nuzzled into my chest. “I’ll hold you to that. Come back soon, and come back safe.” She grinned up and me. “And preferably with several chests full of Equestrian ducats to help move the cause forward.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“You better.” She smirked up and me. “So, that’s enough worrying about the future and moping over the past. If you’re going to be leaving soon, I think we should make the most of the time we have left together.”

We spent the rest of the evening doing precisely that.

Author's Notes:

As always, thanks to my pre-reading and editing team for all their hard work. Also, I would like to thank all my dedicated Patreon supporters. You guys are awesome.

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Aidan Hall
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Zennyth

The Last Charger 6

We limped into Freeport a day late and without the cargo we were supposed to be escorting. The city looked just like I remembered it: a miserable decaying pit. Everything around the harbor itself was the drab, uniform grey of cheap slate tile, with ugly little squat buildings designed to weather the frequent ocean storms. It was a good thing we’d gotten into port when we did, because it looked like another storm was on the way in.

Our client had someone waiting at the docks for us when we got in. To say that he wasn’t happy to find out we didn’t have the cargo would be an understatement, and this guy was just the errand boy. The actual boss was likely to be three times angrier.

I left the rest of the company to finish getting off the ship and doing whatever they wanted to, and went off to face the music on my own. Having Talon there for backup would’ve been nice, but if things went really bad, it would be smart to have my second well outside the blast radius.

Eventually we got out of the dingier dockside area, and into the city proper. It was hard not to notice the difference. The streets were practically pristine. The nice thing about undead broom pushers is that they never asked for breaks. That, and it was a job that was perfectly suited to zombies: simple, repetitive, and requiring no independent thought. Just walk along their route pushing one of those big street-sweepers. Forever, or at least until they broke in a way a necromancer didn’t think was worth fixing.

The nice little cafes and shops lining the main thoroughfare featured more of the same. Undead drudge workers was nothing new, but now I was seeing some of them in front-end jobs too. That was new, but it kind of figured. Living staff had always been the preference for stuff that involved working with customers, but between the Equestrians and the Council, slaves were getting a lot more expensive. Sure, they could hire living Freeporters instead of using slaves or undead, but free citizens expected to make a decent living wage. Not every shop could afford that, or maybe they were just too cheap.

After a bit more walking we made it into the fancier districts, where everyone with money and power lived. The biggest sign we’d moved up in the world were the patrols. Half a dozen zombies armed with actual decent gear, and a necro leading them. Obviously not any of the ones with anywhere close to enough power to actually matter, otherwise they wouldn’t be running a bunch of street guards.

Eventually we made it to my client’s place; a big mansion of a place that he doubtless intended to look big and splendid. Only problem was that his ambition exceeded his grasp. The place looked like it had been designed by an architect who knew that better architects often designed their buildings with certain features to make them look good, but had never quite figured out why they did those things. The end result was a house that looked like the equivalent of a five year old filly who broke into her mother’s makeup and tried to make herself look pretty.

Whatever the client’s house lacked in architectural merit, it made up for with the dozens of heavily armed and armored undead guarding it. That part should really be more important anyway. I’d take a house that’s ugly but secure over one that’s pretty but makes it easy for someone to come in and stab me in my sleep.

I wasn’t sure what I expected to see when they took me in to meet the master of the house, but it wasn’t what I got. In hindsight, the fact that my client evidently went by the name of Lord Deathspair should’ve given me some idea what I was in for. His office certainly looked the part, the walls lined with stuffed trophy heads. Way too many of them belonged to sapient species instead of monsters. Guess he liked to make a statement.

The necrocrat was an earth pony stallion who looked like he was already halfway to being a corpse, which wasn’t unusual for a necromancer. However, instead of looking half-rotted, this guy seemed more like one of those bodies that had washed out to sea and started getting bloated. Or maybe that was just a side effect of the massive lunch he seemed to be in the middle of tearing through. The massive prawns looked especially tempting, and reminded me that it had been far too long since I’d had anything other than the ship’s store of hardtack.

I tried not to start at the food, but I must not have been completely successful. Deathspair scoffed and shook his head, waving at me with a half-eaten prawn. “You see this son of a nag? He loses my cargo, and now he’s eyeballing my lunch!”

“Sorry, too long on ship rations,” I muttered.

“Damn right you’re sorry.” He ran a hoof through his close-cut orange mane. Beady, bloodshot eyes glared at me. “I spent good money for that cargo, and then more on you. Well, where’s my bucking cargo?”

I shrugged. “You’d have to ask the Council about that.”

Deathspair scoffed. “Oh, you think you're a funny one, do you? You think it’s bucking funny I lost all my cargo because of you?” His eyes flicked to the corners of the room, and his guards took a couple steps forward. These weren’t cheap throwaway zombies like the ones that two-bit merc necro Glory hired had used. These were the real deal, faster and stronger than most living ponies and a lot tougher. Not to mention armed with gear that was at least as good as mine. Deathspair glared at me. “Think you'll still be funny when I cut your head off and have it mounted on my wall? Maybe everyone’ll come to laugh at you then!”

Great, another one of these types. Liked to shout, scream, and threaten. Only question was whether he planned to follow through on it, or if he was just a bunch of talk. If he really wanted me dead I planned to go down swinging, but I didn’t like my odds. Best bet was to hope this was hot air and stand my ground. Guys like this were like playground bullies. Sometimes your best bet was to not let them see you sweat. “My head wouldn’t be much of a trophy, doubt you’d impress anyone with it. Not to mention how my company would take you turning me into a taxidermy project.”

Deathspair snorted. “Considering their piss-poor performance, I don’t think I need to worry about any of them coming after me. Should make a whole bucking wall of heads.”

I scowled at him. Bringing the rest of my troops into this wasn’t okay. Not that I was alright with him killing me either, but it was a matter of degrees. He wanted me dead, I’d do my best to keep alive. If he was going after my soldiers, I’d kill him if I had to pull myself up a sword blade through the gut to do it. “My company fought off one attack for you, and if they could’ve handled the Council they would’ve. The Council got the drop on us, and one of their casters had us all down before we even knew what hit us. Not to mention the three ships waiting in ambush. They had your cargo scouted out before we ever got involved.”

Deathspair crossed his forelegs over his chest. “That the way you wanna spin it? So where the buck are these spies then? You gonna give me one of them to beat my money out of? ‘Cause someone’s head is going up on my trophy wall for this buck-up, and if you don’t want it to be you, you better give me a name fast.”

I’d say I needed a second to think about it, but it didn’t even take that long. Even if Torch had put a knife in my back and stuck me in this mess, I didn’t especially like the idea of selling his name to a thug like Deathspair. Especially since for all I knew he was one of the ones behind the Charger Purge. I shrugged. “Couldn’t say for sure, but we were short a couple bodies out of the ship crew we recovered. Might just be the sharks got ‘em, or maybe they left with their friends. Check the corpses against the crew list, see if it helps you any.”

“Oh, I will be.” His eyes narrowed. “But that doesn’t help you at all right now, does it?”

“Seems not,” I grunted.

“Way I see it, if you hadn’t bucked up I’d have a full ship of cargo to sell off or use as I see fit. That’s a lotta money you owe me.” He leaned in threateningly, his zombies advancing on my back close enough to make my hairs stand up on end. “So what are you gonna do to make this right? And believe you me, it better be good.”

So that’s what his game was. He wanted to bully me into giving him a freebie by way of apology. Well that wasn’t happening. “Quite frankly, I'm planning on walking away and taking another job. Our contract only said that I was to bring the cargo here, and then I’d get paid. Didn’t say I owed you anything if the job went bad.”

“Well maybe I don't give a damn what some scrap of paper says.” Deathspair growled. “Maybe I think I should either cut my money out of you, or find some other way to get it.”

“You think I’ve got money to spare?” I growled. “I was counting on the pay from this job to keep the company together. If I tell them we’re working for free, I won’t have any company left the next morning. If you want payback I’d suggest concentrating on the Council. They’re the ones who screwed you over, not me.”

Deathspair growled. “Oh trust me, they’ll get theirs soon enough. Thing is, I don't have the Council sitting in front of me right now. So unless you plan to pull them out of your hat like a stage performer, you better start thinking of ways to convince me that you’ve got something more valuable to offer me than the pleasure I’d take from gutting you.”

Before I could come up with a good answer to that, the door to Deathspair’s private study opened up. One of the undead guards immediately moved to block the doorway, only to go flying back a moment later. When it hit the floor in front of me it was hard to miss the deep hoof-shaped imprint in his breastplate. How strong did someone have to be to do that much damage to tempered steel with a punch?

A moment later, something that almost looked like a pegasus strode into the room. His bat-like wings might have been under a cloak and his mouth was currently a thin little line that kept his fangs from showing, but his blood-red eyes with slitted pupils still gave it away. That and the fact that he could punch a hole into steel. A vampire.

Not just any old vampire either. When he pushed back his hood and shook out a long black mane that contrasted all the more with his pale white coat I recognized him immediately. Hard not to when he was the most powerful of the Necrocrats. Not that they had the sort of formal hierarchy to make that official, but even among equals someone would be calling the shots.

One thing I knew for sure, if the top necro was here, I didn’t want to show up on his radar. If what he’d done to that zombie was any indication, he could break me in half without even trying. Not to mention he could probably do much worse to me and mine politically. You don’t survive for centuries in a city as cutthroat as Freeport and among an even more cutthroat group like the necrocrats without knowing how to play the game.

Deathspair bolted up to his hooves out of respect. “Lord Atramentous! Sorry about my guard. He was ... my lord, it is an unexpected honor to—

“Yes, it is.” Atramentous’s voice didn’t have any of the angry bluster of Deathspair, or his current fumbling. It was a simple, calm, even, controlled tone. I had a feeling it would stay that way whether he was picking which wine to have with dinner, or picking which pony to have for dinner. Made him a lot scarier than Deathspair’s explosive rage. If Atramentous wanted me dead, I might not know it until my head left my body.

Deathspair cleared his throat and tried to regain a bit of composure. “It is of course an honor to have you here, but I am in the middle of something. If you’ll just give me a few minutes to—”

“I know what you were doing,” Atramentous answered coolly. “I could hear your voice before I even stepped through the front door. If you’re quite done blustering at Captain Striker, I would like to have words with him. I presume you won’t mind if we borrow your study?”

“Um...” Judging by the look on his face, Deathspair wanted to say no to being kicked out of his own office, but couldn’t think of a graceful way to refuse. “Yes, of course, my lord.”

Once Deathspair had very reluctantly left the room, I decided now would probably be a good time to show a bit more respect. Last thing I needed to do was get the incredibly powerful and dangerous vampire on my enemies list, especially when he was also one of the political top dogs. I snapped off my best parade ground salute. “My Lord.”

“Captain.” The vampire gave me a short, sharp nod. “I’ve heard you had a run-in with the Council. Not only that, but one of the few individuals working for them who seems willing to act more-or-less openly. Is this true?”

If he wasn’t going to beat around the bush, I saw no reason to either. “Yes, sir.”

Atramentous nodded. “I see. You will tell me everything that happened.” He sat down in Deathspair’s chair, fixing his eyes on mine. I didn’t like the look he was giving me. Not that it was hostile or anything, more like he could see right through me. For all I knew he could; the guy was a centuries old vampire and a necromancer on top of that. Who knew what he could do?

One thing was for sure, I wasn’t going to risk lying to him. I might not have been eager to sell Torch out to a thug like Deathspair, but Atramentous was something else entirely. Not like I owed the kid anything after he’d stuck a knife in my back and left me high and dry with no payday. Besides, from what Atramentous said he already knew about Torch anyway. That would just make lying to him even more pointless and dangerous.

Once I was done telling the story, Atramentous frowned and slowly nodded. “So the rumors were true, Torch has joined the Council. The last of the Chargers.” A dry smile devoid of any warmth tugged at his lips. “A slight exaggeration. There are many of the Charger bloodline left in Equestria, even if they call themselves Cumulus now. I’m sure a few other Chargers who weren’t in the compound or managed to escape followed that example and chose a new name while getting as far from Freeport as they could manage. Not to mention Sanguinius Charger vanished decades ago, though whether a vampire qualifies as a living Charger ... well I would certainly say he does, but he can’t carry on the bloodline. At least, not in the traditional sense.”

Atramentous shrugged. “An academic point, regardless. Torch is the last to bear the name and carry on the legacy. And really, I’m sure half the world has some degree of Charger blood if you go far enough back in the family tree.” Atramentous leaned back in his chair. “You said he asked you to join him?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“Why didn't you?” Atramentous probed. “You clearly have a soft spot for the boy, and it’s not as if returning to Freeport with no cargo and no pay was likely to end well for you. Deathspair clearly intended to rake you over the coals for it, not to mention how your company will take the news that there’s no money to pay them. To be blunt, your insistence on keeping your word to your client did them no good, and seems to have ended very badly for you.”

“And turning on a client would’ve gone better?” I scoffed and shook my head. “No, if I did that I’d have way more enemies, and nobody would ever hire my company again. Losing is never great for your rep, but most clients will get that I was ambushed and up against three to one odds. Might even get a few who’d respect a company for sticking by the job even when the numbers are stacked against them.”

“That is a rare quality among mercenaries,” Atramentous answered. “Most are firm believers in self-preservation.”

“Can’t spend the money if you’re not alive at the end of the battle,” I agreed. “But the way I look at it, if you kill your reputation you’re as good as dead anyway. A mercenary nobody wants to hire is gonna turn into a beggar or a bandit, and neither of those is a life with a future.” I snorted and shook my head. “Could say the same for a revolutionary. Joining up with Torch might’ve gotten me out of this mess, but it’d add a dozen new ones. Not to mention my troops wouldn’t love the idea of getting paid in nothing but good feelings and promises that we were fighting for a righteous cause.”

“So a survivor, but a pragmatic one.” Atramentous nodded slowly. “Speaking of Torch, tell me more about him. Do you think he truly believes in this cause? Or is it just a smokescreen to hide a quest for revenge?”

After what happened with Glory, I was pretty sure I knew the answer to that one. “It’s not about revenge. He had a shot to kill at least one bastard who killed his clan, and he didn’t take it. It might be that he's playing some long game, but that wasn’t the read I got on him.” Granted, the kid had conned me pretty well and shown himself to be an entirely too skilled liar. “Way he said it, he figures that if he goes chasing after revenge, he wouldn’t stop until half of Freeport was dead. Might be part of why he fell in with The Council in the first place.”

“Perhaps.” Atramentous grimaced and shook his head. “Pity. Revenge is a relatively simple and straightforward motivation. Idealists are much more complicated.” He steepled his hooves, covering the lower half of his face. “Although he was not wrong in how many would have to die to truly avenge his clan. Almost all of the Strikers and the Doos, not to mention the ones who hired them. Perhaps the Equestrians as well, given their role in the Battle of Two Magnuses. Though from what you’ve said, Torch seems to grasp that the battle’s other name is far more fitting: Magnus’s Folly.”

“Seems like he doesn’t blame them,” I agreed. “Especially if all the rumors that the Equestrians are bankrolling the Council are true.”

“We haven’t found any proof of it, but that just inclines me to think they’re being very careful to cover their tracks,” Atramentous agreed. “Equestria and the Council both oppose us. It would be foolish for them not to have some level of cooperation.” Atramentous scoffed softly. “They oppose us. As if the necrocrats were anything close to a unified force. Tell me, how much do you know about the Charger Purge?”

I shrugged. “As much as anyone who wasn’t there. When Nightshade got all the captains together for the briefing, I bailed as soon as it was clear what the job was, and that the whole thing wasn’t some sort of out-of-season April Foals joke.”

“So I have heard.” Atramentous looked up at the walls, and the numerous trophies adorning them. “Suffice to say that the destruction of the Chargers came about through the efforts of men like your last client. I suspect that if I had pictures of all the Chargers and went through this macabre collection, one of them might well be somewhere on this wall.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Equestria likes to speak of the Necrocrats as if we were a single organization of like mind. They are mistaken in that regard. The fall of the Chargers was but the first sign of an ugly truth: we are tearing ourselves apart. Equestria and the Council are tightening the noose, and we are more interested in killing our own than working together. Your job in Port Nowhere was a victim of similar circumstances, I believe. Your previous client, Lord Darkshroud, was killed by an ambitious apprentice who sought to usurp his master. Such infighting will, I fear, become more and more common.”

“Reminds me of rats on a sinking ship,” I murmured. “Everyone’s clawing and stepping on each other to try and keep their heads above the water.”

“Not an inaccurate comparison.” Atramentous’s lips curled, letting me get a look at his fangs. “I don’t plan on letting the ship sink. Should Torch approach you again, it might be wise to remind him that not all of us supported what happened to his house. There are far less pleasant prospects than the return of House Charger. Some of those are current realities.”

It took me a moment to figure out what he was driving at. “Wait, you want him and the Council to keep running around doing what they’re doing?”

“Not particularly,” Atrementous answered. “But I am also not enamoured of the current status quo. Between the Council’s guerilla warfare and the naval conflict with Equestria, Freeport is slowly headed for the abyss. If at all possible, I would like to stop that. There are many things I am prepared to accept if the alternative is Freeport’s ruin.”

“Not to mention the Council would be a good way to get rid of your rivals,” my inner cynic pointed out. “You ally with the revolution and they’ll skip over you when cleaning house.”

“As I said, I am willing to accept a great deal to preserve Freeport. And myself.” Atrementous scowled up at the trophies. “As you just said, I have quite a few rivals. I might be amongst the oldest and most respected of the Necrocrats, but that only makes me the most tempting target. If they are rats on a sinking ship, they might well drag me down along with them. I haven’t lived this long by stubbornly refusing to budge from the status quo. When the winds shift, I shift with them. If the time of the Necrocrats is ending, perhaps it is time to change again.”

“Huh.” Guess that made sense. Considering how old he was, if he couldn’t get with the times he’d probably be thee-ing and thou-ing me. Or at least, I assumed so. I didn’t know exactly how old the guy was, but the fact that he could walk around in broad daylight and swat a fully armed and armored zombie around like it was nothing indicated he was pretty old and powerful. “Gotta stick with the times, yeah. So why tell me about this?”

Atramentous shrugged. “I’m exploring several possibilities, and for the moment, you seem like a useful point of contact with the Council. They do put quite a bit of effort into hiding, and even if I showed up in one of their hidden bases, I doubt they would welcome me as a guest. The other party immediately devolving to panicked fleeing for their lives is not conducive to negotiations.”

He wasn’t wrong. If a necrocrat showed up on their front door, the Council wouldn’t assume he was there to put out diplomatic feelers. “You think I’m a point of contact? I don't see much of a chance Torch will come and see me again. I was pretty firm about not wanting to join him.”

“You were firm about not breaking contract to join him,” Atramentous countered. “That contract is no longer in effect. Not to mention your own financial straits are particularly dire. Allow me to propose a scenario. Your company, now on the brink of bankruptcy, is suddenly approached with a generous job offer by Torch or someone acting as his proxy. Perhaps they try to conceal their identity at first, or they might just make a few token apologies for their role in your poverty. However, then they offer enough money to pay any debts and secure your company’s future. All they ask is a single job. Nothing terribly dangerous, or likely to make you an enemy of the necrocrats. Something that seems benign enough to make you think it’s worth the risks of working with the Council, especially in light of your financial woes.” A dry, mirthless smile tugged at his lips. “Bait for the trap. Better than that, bait you cannot ignore even though you know it’s meant to lure you in. Once you get embroiled in their cause, even peripherally, it becomes much harder to leave.”

Huh. He sure had come up with an elaborate and very good plan for how to rope me in, and seemingly on the fly. Of course, you don’t get to the top of Freeport society and survive there for centuries without being very good at manipulation, extortion, and blackmail. However, that begged the question... “Let’s say he does offer me a job. What then?”

“Then you will arrange a meeting between myself and him in whatever manner you think best,” Atramentous answered with the ironclad certainty of someone used to having his orders obeyed. “Succeed in this task, and you will be duly rewarded.”

I took a deep breath. “And if I don’t do it?”Atramentous met my eyes. “Then I would be disappointed.”

For some reason, that quiet, calm declaration scared me a lot more than all of Deathspair’s howling and screaming about cutting off my head. However, I was used to having scary clients. Comes with the territory in Freeport. “That’s a bit open ended, and my company needs money now. Payday’s pretty close, and I don’t have enough to pay them.”

“You want an advance?” Atramentous frowned at me. “I pay for results, not promises. In any case, your company’s poverty is pivotal to my plans. If you were financially secure, accepting such a risky job might seem suspicious, regardless of any past ties to Torch Charger. I’m sure you know that if I let your soldiers have a proper payday, they will spend much of the next few days carousing through all of Freeport’s more colorful establishments.”

I grimaced, but couldn’t exactly argue the point. If I handed out a month’s worth of ducats to every soldier in my company, half of them would head straight for the nearest tavern or brothel to burn through far too much of it. If the Council was keeping an eye on me, they’d notice a lot of big spending from my supposedly poor company. “What happens if you’re wrong about what the Council’s got in mind?”

I caught a flicker of annoyance going across Atramentous’ face. “Then I will leave you to your own devices. Save for the fact that you might be able to deliver Torch, your company is of little interest to me. If I am mistaken and you cannot deliver him to me after all...”

“Point taken.” At least I could credit him for being honest. “You just want to talk to the kid?”

“Just a conversation,” Atramentous agreed. “If I wanted him dead, I wouldn’t pick someone as compromised as you to be my point of contact. If I attacked Torch or meant him any harm, I think you would almost certainly take his side over mine. A pointless and unacceptable risk. I trust, however, that I can rely on you to carry a message that might well be to Torch’s benefit.”

I thought about it for a second, but there really wasn’t much to say. Telling him no would probably get me killed, and really, where was the harm in playing diplomatic go-between? “Yeah, okay, no problem. If I see Torch, I’ll see what I can do.”

“That is all I ask.” Lord Atramentous rose from his seat. “One last thing before we finish. My arrival here was no mere coincidence. Your clan’s leader asked me to intervene on your behalf, evidently at the behest of your second. Both of them were somewhat concerned about your fate if left alone in Deathspair’s hooves.”

I clenched my teeth. I could certainly believe Talon worrying about me, but Nightshade was another matter entirely. If he was bailing my ass out of the fire, it was because it benefited him and his in some way. “Understood.”

“Very good.” He took a seat once more. “Go. And send Lord Deathspair in on your way out, there are matters I would discuss with him.”

I knew better than to do anything other than exactly what he told me to.

The trip back to the Striker Clanhold wasn’t exactly fun. For starters, our hold in Freeport proper wasn’t much of a hold. More like a front office in the city. You can’t exactly fit housing, training facilities, armories, and everything else a small army needs onto the limited and very expensive real estate of a major city. All that stuff had to go in our main base in one of the islands further out in the archipelago. The facilities in the city itself were more for dealing with the government, talking to clients, and all the other things where spending a couple hours for a boat ride to the main compound wasn’t practical.

I wasn’t too wild about going to see Nightshade, but there was no avoiding it. Talon had probably already gone there to report in about Glory, and evidently to keep me from getting my head lopped off and mounted on a wall. While I wasn’t especially happy about who she’d gone to for help, I liked the idea of getting decapitated slightly less.

Our Freeport HQ was one of the fancier things the Strikers ever made. The building itself was a squat ugly thing made out of volcanic basalt, but we’d draped a few banners over the walls to make it look better. Dunno how we kept them looking decent with all the storms and humidity, but it was probably more work than it was worth. Still, the grey banners with our sword and anvil clan symbol in blood red looked good. Even if the red looking like blood was just a bit too perfect considering what the current clan had been built on.

The guards stepped aside to let me in without any sort of challenge. Guess they’d been told to expect me. The central hall of the headquarters was where we showed off all our battle honors, the better to impress incoming clients. ‘Course, most of our clients wouldn’t have much in the way of context for all the banners and trophies we were showing off. They wouldn’t know that almost all of it came from after we moved to Freeport. The old tradition of the victors taking a few trophies from their beaten foes wound up backfiring on us when we were on the losing side of the Rebellion.

We’d managed to sneak away a few things and recover a few more over the years, but not enough. It was like getting back three pages out of an entire book. These days we celebrated our victories over other Freeport merc groups, with only one or two distant nods to what we used to be. Feathers, we even had a Charger banner up on the walls, captured during the Purge. Guess it fit. Why should our trophy collection be any different than the rest of our clan?

Nightshade was waiting in his office at the other end of the grand hall. After all the bombast of the massive hallway showing off all the clan’s triumphs, his office looked pretty drab by comparison. A single shelf with a few books, a stand for his weapons and armor, and the desk itself, along with Nightshade sitting behind it.

The thing that always really pissed me off about Nightshade was that we had a fair bit of family resemblance on account of being cousins. His coat was a bit darker and more purple, like the plant he was named after, and he kept himself clean-shaven. Feather, maybe that was part of why I’d grown the beard in the first place. The corner of his lip twitched upwards a bit when he saw me. “The prodigal son returns.”

Protocol said I should salute him, but I was ten years past giving a damn about protocol. He didn’t deserve my respect. Instead I just grunted and nodded. “Nightshade. It’s been a long time. Could’ve been longer.”

Nightshade sighed. “Not even done coming through the door, and you’re already reading me the riot act about ancient history. Take a seat.”

I scowled at him and settled down, not even bothering with a pretense of the usual military poise expected when a company commander met with the Paterfamilias. “Hard not to hold a grudge over betrayal and murder.”

Nightshade scoffed. “Betrayal? What promise did I make to the Chargers? What do I owe them?” He slowly shook his head. “The old alliances died centuries ago, Bell. Just because our great-ancestors were friends with them doesn’t mean we are. Do you think they wouldn't have done the same to us?”

“‘Maybe they would’ve killed us off if they got a chance’ isn’t much of a justification,” I snarled. “Maybes don’t count for much, especially not when you put it up against the fact that we stabbed them in the back.”

Nightshade sighed and shook his head. “We had this fight ten years ago, and I got sick of it then. I made a decision, you didn’t like it, and you’ll never forgive me. Maybe instead of going over old history neither one of us can change we could focus on the here and now? Like how I just pulled your ass out of the fire.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “That what you wanna call it? More like throwing me in the firing line. Do you have any idea what Atramentous is up to?”

“Playing a dozen different games and seeing a role you could fill in at least three of them, if I had to guess,” Nightshade murmured. “But the alternative was your head ending up on Deathspair's trophy wall. If you don’t like the way out I offered, I’m sure we can still find a way to make that happen.”

I grunted and glared at him. “Think it’s a coincidence I went there on my own? Now my whole company's getting dragged into the necrocrats' games. You know how dangerous that is. After all, you're often the one giving them the heads to mount.”

“For a guy who hasn’t been here for a decade, you sure think you know a lot about what’s been going on.” Nightshade snorted. “Well I’ve been here, so I can tell you I’ve been doing my best to keep the whole clan from getting dragged in for more than a decade. What, you think I just woke up one morning and wanted the Chargers dead? The hammer was coming down either way, and the only question was whether we’d end up under it too.”

I scowled and shook my head. “You could have just stood out of the way. At least that way you wouldn’t have had blood on your hooves.”

“None of our hooves are clean, Bell.” He sighed and ran a hoof through his mane. “You still don’t get it, do you? Neutrality wasn’t an option. When the other necrocrats offered the Charger Contract it put us in a lot of danger. What, you think if I told them no they just would’ve taken it with good grace and moved on to the next merc group? Soon as I got the offer, I knew too much. If we weren’t in on it, then we were a loose end that needed to be tied up. I’m not proud of the job, but at least the Strikers are still alive.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night.” I shook my head and slouched down further into my seat. “So why save my life, then ask me to come here? Doesn’t seem like you pull that many strings just to gloat over saving my miserable life. You’ve got a lot of sins, but being too in love with yourself was never one of them.”

“Nicest thing you’ve said about me in a long time.” Nightshade cleared a few papers off his desk. “Do you know why I wanted you in one piece?”

I shrugged. “Honestly, one soldier to another, I thought you were just waiting things out until an enemy or the bottle killed me, and then talk or bribe whoever took over after me to turn the Brawlers back into Tenth Company. Considering how things are between us, I didn’t think you would piss on me if I was on fire, let alone call in a favor.”

“You're a Striker,” Nightshade answered. “Means you’re one of us, no matter what. The last thing we need right now is for the Necrocrats to start getting the idea that it’s okay to kill us off every time a job goes bad.” He scowled down at his desk and shook his head. “Especially when that’s not such a rare thing these days.”

It was hard not to get a bit curious when he said something like that. “I've heard rumors, but we all know how reliable those are. What’s the truth?”

“You been through town much?” Nightshade asked. “Shops are selling less and charging more. Equestria’s blockade might be aimed at slavers, but they’re certainly not going to ignore any other contraband they find while they’re searching for slaves. And the Council ... well, funding a revolution and keeping all those freed slaves fed and armed isn’t cheap. Even a lot of merchants who trade strictly above-board aren’t all that eager to put into a port that’s got pirates and a naval blockade going on. Not to mention the markets in Equestria aren’t exactly eager to take our trade.” He scoffed and shook his head. “You think you’re the only one who’s had a hard time finding respectable work lately?”

I hadn’t really considered that. Guess I’d just assumed that of course things were hard since I’d more-or-less gone rogue from the clan. But if everyone else was hurting too... “It's a little hard to miss the fact that my coinpurse is a lot lighter than it used to be, and jobs that don’t make me sick to my stomach seem to have dried up. A couple of years ago we were doing good work with hunting bandits, pirates, and all the usual sea monsters. Lately it seems like there are fewer and fewer of those jobs.”

“Same story I hear from all my captains.” He got up and went over to his sidebar, pouring out a couple drinks. “You’re not the only one who had to resort to some dirty business to pay the bills. Talon told me what happened with Glory. I know he was a bit of an ass, but do you think he was playing at being a pirate because he was swimming in bits? He needed the money just as bad as you did. Probably part of why he insisted on pushing things so far it had to end in blood. He couldn’t afford to back down any more than you could.”

“Huh.” That put a new perspective on things. Still didn’t make me regret killing him all that much. It did make the glass Nightshade was filling up look a bit more tempting. “You’ve probably heard it from Talon already, but for what it's worth, he pushed it to a fight. I didn't want to kill him, as big of a murderous sonofabitch as he was, he was still kin.” One thing Torch had been right about, if I got it into my head to start killing everyone who was tied into the Charger Purge I’d be left with no clan and half of Freeport in flames.

“What I figured,” Nightshade grunted. “Nice to hear it though. Big difference between you disagreeing with the clan and us killing each other over it. Times are hard enough without us adding infighting to the mix.”

“Right.” Maybe I could say that it didn’t matter if I got cursed for a kinslayer after all my other bad luck, but the other way to look at it was that the last thing I needed was to add more trouble onto the pile. “How are the other companies doing? Me and my Brawlers were lucky not to get our throats slit by the Council when our job went bad, not to mention getting past the Equestrians. Call me a cynic, but if that’s my good luck, I’d hate to see what everyone else’s bad luck looks like.”

“Pretty bad.” Nightshade filled up a second glass, setting it down in front of me. “Fourth and Seventh wound up with a contract conflict about half a year back. At least they honor dueled it instead of an all-out fight, but neither client was happy. Then one of Hammer’s wounds took a bad turn after the duel. His company says it was poison, Seventh says it was just the medic making a botch of it. Either way, I’m down a captain and there’s a lot of bad blood between two of my companies. Plus we lost Sixth Company when an Equestrian patrol caught them a couple months back.”

I glanced down at the drink, struggling not to have it. After the day I’d gone through I could use one, but getting fuzzy-headed around Nightshade could go badly for me. “How bad was it? Heard a lot of rumors about what the Equestrians do to slavers they catch.”

Nightshade sighed and shook his head. “Company’s as good as gone. Saber and his top officers got their necks stretched in an admiralty court, and the rest of the company is doing a decade and a half of hard time. Did a little looking into springing them, but the Equestrians weren’t dumb enough to put them in a prison on the coast and don’t seem open to any sort of negotiating. Hate leaving them behind, but so far I haven’t found a plan to get them out that wouldn’t be likely to end with most of us killed or locked up with them.”

I grimaced and picked up the glass, knocking it back. This wasn’t the kind of news anyone should listen to sober. “Damn. Who would’ve thought my company would be one of the ones that’s actually a bit better off? Sixth and Third gone completely, Fourth and Seventh at each other’s throats ... any more bad news?”

“Plenty, but most of the rest of it’s little stuff.” Nightshade followed my example. “We’re past due for some rebuilding, but even if I could promise work to the new companies, we both know it’s not that simple. Sure, training up new troops is easy enough, but I’m also down three captains, and that’s assuming the seven I still have are up for it. Nickel’s due for retirement soon as I can find a replacement for First.”

“And I’m sure you wouldn’t mind finding someone to replace me if you could,” I grumbled.

“Won’t say the thought never crossed my mind,” Nightshade grunted. “On top of all the issues, you’re not exactly a young buck anymore. Too bad that even if you’d let me, I don’t have anyone good to take over. Bringing Tenth back into the fold would take an above average captain, and I don’t have any of those right now.”

“No promising young up-and-comers?” I probed.

“Not enough.” He groaned and shook his head. “You know how it is. Outside the rare types who have a natural knack for it, it takes years and years to make good officers. Not every good soldier makes a good squad leader, and not all of those can run a platoon. Let alone what happens when you make the jump to command. Couple who looked real promising didn’t pan out when I tested them in the big chair.” He groaned and ran a hoof through his mane. “Maybe they would’ve worked out with a little more seasoning and a few mistakes, but we can’t afford that right now. Doesn’t help that a couple of our best and brightest got wrapped up in Magnus’s Folly. Bit too much overlap between the ‘eager and ambitious’ and the ‘young and stupid.’”

“Right.” Magnus’ Folly might have mostly been a Charger operation, but a few young Strikers and Doos did get caught up in all the promises of fortune and glory. “Guess I got lucky with Talon sticking with me. Least I know the Brawlers will be in good hooves once I get killed or drink myself into an early grave.”

“Might need to be sooner than that,” Nightshade answered. “Like I said, we’re short on good officers. Talon’s been a second-in-command for a long time while you were out.”

Huh. Not how I’d been expecting this conversation to go. It didn’t take long to figure out what his game must be. “I think we both know the basics of how this conversation is going to go. We’re three captains short, and we both agree Talon’s one of the most qualified junior officers in the clan. You’re going to offer her a command, but one of the conditions is that we need to get over ourselves and our past history. It’s an olive branch to bring me and Brawlers back under the clan, and your command.”

Nightshade shrugged. “A few promotions would be a small price to pay to reunite the clan.”

I set my glass down, slowly pushing it away. “I’m surprised you’re willing to promote someone in Tenth Company to captain. You’ve gotta know Talon didn’t like the Charger Purge any more than I did. Can’t imagine she’ll get along with any of the guys who were involved in it any better than I do.”

“You miss the part where one of my captains killed another in an honor duel?” Nightshade sighed and shook his head. “Not like the officers hating each other will be new. Not saying there won't be trouble. There’s always trouble of one stripe or another. We'll deal with it; we don’t have any other choice. I need good officers right now, and the survival of the clan is more important than things that happened a decade ago.” He scowled and sat up a bit straighter. “I’m a lot of things, but one thing I damn sure won’t be is the pater who leads the Strikers into ruin.”

I thought about asking for a refill, but that wouldn’t be a good idea. “You talked with Talon about this? You said she was in earlier.”

“Not yet.” He sighed and shook his head. “Not like she’d take the job without your approval.”

I sighed and got up, going over the window to take a look outside. It wasn’t much to look at, just a lot of grey buildings wreathed in ocean mist from a rain shower that must’ve come in a few minutes ago. Hadn’t looked like it was about to rain on the walk over here, but rain tended to come fast and unpredictable in Freeport. “You gotta give her credit for loyalty. I don’t deserve it, but she gives it anyways.”

I looked out over the decaying city, and into the harbor. It had been a while, but I remembered there being a lot more ships. Like Nightshade said, our trade lines were slowly being strangled by Equestria and the Council. What do you call a trade hub that doesn’t get any trade?

A line of zombie drudges marching by answered that question for me. Dead. Or at least dying.

For some reason, that gave me my answer. “It’s her call. If she wants a promotion she’s more than earned it, but considering all the extra baggage that comes with this, I can’t make it an order.”

Another thought sprang to mind. Talon commanding a new company could give me something I hadn’t had in the clan for a long time: an ally. Maybe more than one, if there was anything to all Torch’s talk about how the younger generation had some ideas about me. Not that I was planning to launch a coup against Nightshade the instant I had more support than him, but there’s a big difference between being a powerless friendless exile and a captain opposed to the current pater with the support of several others.

Nightshade might have guessed what I was thinking, or maybe he was just making small talk. “It’ll take a bit to set up if she wants to go for it. Recruiting and training new companies is a big deal, especially in lean times. What are you going to do in the meantime?”

I shrugged. “How much do you know about Atramentous’ latest scheme?”

“You’d need to narrow it down a lot more than that,” Nightshade shot back dryly. “But last I heard he wants to start getting a good contingency plan figured out for if things go bad for the Necrocrats. Guess the captain doesn’t plan on going down with the ship.”

“I’m sure most captains would prefer not to,” I murmured. “Not wild about getting me and mine mixed up in his plans, but I think we both know what it’d mean for me and my company if I tell him to piss off.”

“I wouldn’t recommend doing that,” Nightshade agreed. “Not saying he’d send assassins after you for saying no, but he’d remember it. Especially if you didn’t have a very good reason for telling him no.” He shrugged. “Then again, why do that? Not like I’m opposed to making sure the clan survives no matter how the war goes.”

That got my attention. “War? I know the Equestrians and Council are pushing us, but...”

“I’ve lost two companies and three captains in the last couple months,” Nightshade answered. “Maybe nobody’s officially declared war, but we’re sure dying like there’s one on.” He filled both our glasses back up. “I can’t say for sure, but I’d bet that your Council spy was talking to the zebras before catching a ride back with you. And it’s hardly a secret Celestia’s been talking to them and the gryphons about us. Only thing that’s stopped a coalition from crushing us already is that none of them trust each other enough to work together.”

I downed the second glass, even if it was probably a bad idea. Not like that had ever stopped me before. “If they’re willing to pay the blood for it Equestria could crush us. Holding the islands would be a mess, but just sending in an army to take down the Necrocrats, and let whoever wants to rebuild is another matter. Wouldn’t be shocked if the Necrocrats would rush to kill each other so that they could be the one to surrender to the Equestrians at this point. Sure sounds like Atramentous is at least seeing if they’d be okay with putting him in charge of a new, reformed Freeport with other Necros purged.”

“Convincing the world that Archon Atramentous is for the best is a crazy plan, but if anyone could pull it off...” Nightshade emptied out his glass as well. “Still, when there’s this much war and backstabbing going around, it’s a big risk for the clan.”

I grimaced and nodded. “Plenty of ways things could go very bad, even if we split up our companies to make sure we can’t get wiped out in a single battle. Especially since if the Equestrians take over they might not want us sticking around.”

“Our ancestors did start a rebellion against Celestia,” Nightshade pointed out. “Not to mention Magnus’ Folly. If we fight against them as well, they wouldn’t exactly have a lot of reasons not to go after us.” His eyes settled on me. “Unless we gave them one.”

I didn’t know what kind of game he was playing, or why he thought it was a good idea to get me of all ponies involved, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious. “Go on.”

“Everyone knows you’re a rogue element who wants nothing to do with me and mine.” He shrugged. “Makes you a very nicely deniable asset for situations like this. If you get spotted working with the Necrocats’ enemies, I can just tell everyone you went rogue years ago. And if this thing goes bad on the Necros, there’ll still be Strikers at the end of it.”

“So you wanna do a little double dealing?” I frowned and shook my head. “Can’t say I’m a fan. The thing with hedging your bets, it means accepting you’re gonna lose something no matter how it goes. If Freeport makes it out of this with the Necrocrats still running the show, me and mine will be up on the chopping block.”

Nightshade grimaced. “I could probably save at least the common troops by saying they were just following orders, but ... yeah.” A mirthless smile tugged at his lips. “But look on the bright side: maybe this ends with you lopping off my head to prove that the clan is loyal to the revolution and the new regime. I know you always say you don’t want to be a kinslayer, but I think it’s a case of saying it a lot to make sure you still feel that way.”

He ... probably wasn’t completely wrong. I had a lot of hate for some of the things my clan had done, and letting that fester could turn me into even more of a wreck than I already was. The idea of killing my own cousin probably shouldn’t sound half so appealing as it did. “If things go that way, I’ll make it quick. You may be a bastard who has it coming a dozen times over, but I’m not gonna sink to your level.”

“Yeah, sure.” Nightshade scoffed and shook his head. “Some day you’ll figure out I’m not the monster you like to make out. I’m no hero, but everything I did was to keep the Strikers alive and in good standing.” He sighed and slumped down in his seat. “I’m doing you a favor, giving you something to fight for. You’ve been drifting since you went into your self-imposed exile, and it’s past time you had something to believe in. It’ll keep you from hitting the bottle so much.”

I snorted. “You almost sound like you care. The world really has gone topsy-turvy. We're even talking about working together and helping each other. Even if it is a plan where one of us will probably end up killing the other.”

“Least we can work together on that.” He leaned back in his chair, looking me over. “So you saw the infamous Last Charger? What’d you make of him?”

I turned away from the window and took a seat opposite him. “Kid seemed nice enough, even if he did stab me in the back at the end of the job. Though apparently Atramentos isn’t convinced he's actually the 'last' Charger.”

“Sure there are others who got away are lying low.” Nightshade agreed. “Not to mention it was just the clan itself, if you’re talking Charger blood ... well our great-great grandfather was a Charger.” He leaned in a bit. “Feathers, between you and me there might have been a few of our clanmates who'd been trying for kids and had no luck, but wound up getting new adoptees right after it all went down.”

That sure got my attention. “I never heard anything about that.”

“You were already gone, and we kept it quiet for reasons that should be obvious,” Nightshade answered. “Not even the kids know, the ones we saved were too young.”

I grunted and nodded. Figures they wouldn’t want any kids old enough to remember who they really were. “Hope the kids are turning out alright. You know if they ever find out about it, they’ll probably want your head.”

“Don’t know how they’d find out. Maybe one day...” He trailed off, then scoffed and shook his head. “Ah feather it, not like saving a couple kids from the fire makes up for everything else. Maybe one of them will find out and kill me for it. Maybe they deserve their revenge, and maybe I deserve to die. Who ever said life was fair?”

“Probably one of those really annoying optimists,” I answered. I glanced down at my empty glass, struggling against the urge to ask for another refill. “Still ... doesn’t everything feel wrong to you? Like it’s all falling apart and swirling into the abyss?”

Nightshade let out a particularly joyless chuckle. “It’s felt that way so long it’s almost normal.”

I growled and shook my head. “But it isn’t. Or it shouldn't be. It’s wrong, and it didn't have to be this way. We’re the ones who made this world so lousy.”

Nightshade frowned. “Wrong about one thing, Bell. We didn’t make it.” He poked at his empty glass, like he was thinking about filling it back up. “Gotta wonder what our ancestors would think about moving to Freeport if they knew it would come to this. Maybe they would’ve decided that staying in Equestria wouldn’t be so bad after all. It’d mean the end of our clan legacy, but...”

“But we did a pretty good job of wrecking it all by ourselves,” I finished for him.

“Too right we did.” Nightshade sighed and ran a hoof through his mane. “You know what every pater thinks about when he gets old, Bell? Legacy. We went into exile rather than accept being disbanded to protect our ancestor’s legacy. And now ... here I am, thinking about what I’ll leave behind to the next generation of new Strikers. Can’t say it’ll be much to be proud of.” He tapped on the desk. “Bet that’s why Torch’s running with the Council too. Seeing your whole clan die can make anyone feel old. He could go settle in somewhere quiet, change his name, and live out the rest of his life in peace. And the Charger name would slowly fade away and be forgotten.”

“But if he overthrows the Necrocrats and frees the slaves...” I frowned, not quite sure I liked where this was going. “So what, you think this is all just some crazy quest for glory, and the Council is just a convenient way to get it? Seems like a silly thing to die for.”

“Is it?” Nightshade scoffed and slowly sank down into his seat. He might have been my older cousin, but he’d never quite looked so ... old. “We die for money all the time. Little shiny bits of metal. And unless we go down the Necro route, death catches all of us eventually. Even the necros, they just have a few more ways to hold it off. Then all that’s left of us is a rotting corpse and whatever memories we leave behind. That’s the closest any of us mere mortals can ever get to immortality: being remembered for what we leave behind.” He snorted and shook his head. “If the Council and Equestria end up taking the Necros down, I’m sure history will remember me as a monster. Not sure what they’ll say about me if the Necros win, but even if they make it out of this crisis, I don’t see them lasting forever. Who does? Just a matter of how long it takes for me to be hated. Maybe they’ll even strike my name from the roster and cast me out posthumously.” His spine stiffened a bit, and he sat up straighter. “But at least in a hundred years there’ll still be a Striker clan to hate me. That’s my legacy.”

I was tempted to argue the point, but what would come of it? Just more old history we’d never budge on. Instead I asked what was really on my mind. “So what kind of legacy do you figure Torch is after?”

Nightshade grinned. “That’s something you’ll have to ask him next time you see him.”

Author's Notes:

As always, thanks to my pre-reading and editing team for all their hard work. Also, I would like to thank all my dedicated Patreon supporters. You guys are awesome.

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Zennyth

The Last Charger 7

After all the horseapples I’d gone through with Deathspair, Atramentous, and Nightshade, I needed a drink more than just about anything. Coming back to Freeport had been a huge mistake. I should’ve just taken our little escort ship and sailed off into great blue beyond. No idea where we would’ve eventually hit land, but anywhere else would have to be better than here.

Well okay, I’ll give Freeport one thing over most of the other places I would’ve landed. The rum was cheap and plentiful. That didn’t do anything to fix all my problems, but at least it made them a bit easier to tolerate. Feathers, maybe if I just got drunk and stayed drunk for the next couple years I could pretend things were almost normal instead of the godsawful mess it actually was. Not like I could change the world and fix everything wrong with it. I just needed to find a way to live with it, and that was a lot easier with a belly full of rum.

Talon found me a couple hours later, in one of the seedy dockside taverns. The floors and glasses were dirty, the rum wasn’t very good, and instead of cute barmaids, the owners cheaped out and used undead. The good news was that by the time I started working on my second bottle, I stopped caring about all of that.

I was about halfway through that when Talon found me. Her lips tugged down in a disapproving frown as soon as she saw the state I was in. “Ah, there you are.”

I groaned and filled up my glass again. “Whatever it is, it can wait until morning.” Or better, afternoon. I was probably going to have one nag of a hangover.

Talon’s frown got a bit more obvious. “With all due respect sir, it can’t.”

“With all due respect,” I snorted. “Nice phrase. Very handy way to tell someone who outranks you that they’re being an ass.” I drank a bit more rum. “‘Course, the way things are going, you might not outrank me for long.” I paused and thought that sentence over again. “Bah. Other way around. You know what I meant.”

“So I do, sir.” She moved the bottle out of reach before I could fill my glass up again. “We have quite a few things to go over, sir.”

“And I told you it’d have to wait until tomorrow.” I scoffed and emptied out my glass. “You really think it’s a good idea to talk over company business when I’m drunk?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be at your most articulate, sir,” Talon answered dryly. “That said, the troops will feel better if they have some assurance that the company has a future. Right now the only way we can afford to pay them is to empty our coffers and sell off some of the company steel. Having another job lined up would be nice. Especially one that comes with an advance.”

“Well it sure would be nice if I could tell them that, but then they’d have a liar for a captain.” I slumped down and tipped back my glass, trying to capture the last few drops. “There isn’t any money, Talon. That bastard necrocrat left us high and dry. We were lucky to get out of it without picking up more debts. And as far as jobs go, I don’t like our prospects.”

“I didn’t imagine they were especially rosy.” She took a seat next to me. “But this isn’t the first time things have looked grim for the company. So how do we fix it?”

I knew she wasn’t going to leave me in peace until I gave her the answers she wanted. Best to just get it done then. “Same as the rule was last time. We need a job, even if its one I don’t love. Not like we’re in any position to be choosy about which jobs we take; right now we’re about one step away from begging for a handout. Just gotta make sure we don’t get screwed over with whatever job we take this time.”

“Right.” She pointedly moved the bottle a bit further away from me. “Do we have any leads on a new job? Anything on offer?” She grimaced. “It’s possible we might need to see if the clan has a contract for us. Nightshade did pull us out of the fire with Deathspair. Doesn’t change that he’s a bastard, but if he can get us a job to keep our heads above the water and we can clear out any red in our ledger from getting his help, I’d call that a win.”

“We’re not that desperate.” Not to mention that from what Nightshade said, things weren’t exactly going great for the rest of the clan either. No sense selling my integrity if I wouldn’t even get anything for it. The last job made that pretty clear.

Of course, that cut down our options even more. Down to just about one, if I thought about it. “There’s one thing we can try, but I don't like it. I really don't like it.” I leaned in a bit closer and whispered to her. “As in I don’t want to be in this bar talking where people might overhear don’t like it.”

“Then you shouldn’t be shouting about it to half the bar,” Talon commented.

“I was whispering.”

Talon snorted. “If that was your whisper, I’d hate to hear your shout. The only good news is that everyone else here is probably at least as drunk as you are.” She scoffed. “Well, if you have a room it shouldn’t be too hard to talk it over in private. Safe bet everyone here’ll see you go upstairs with a mare and draw the wrong conclusion.”

I grunted. Not like any of the barflies would know she was my cousin. “It’s not much more than a flophouse, but it has a door with a lock on it. The walls are thin, but the plumbing’s so loud it’ll drown out anyone who’s too curious for their own good. Just don’t drink the water.”

“Not like anyone comes here to drink the water anyway.” She followed me up to the room I’d rented. It wasn’t much, just the loud creaky sink and threadbare mattress. “Serviceable. That’s more than I expected.”

“Keep your expectations low, that way you never get disappointed.” I tried to take a seat on the bed, but the damn thing slipped out from under me and sent me flopping onto my back. I glared down at the mattress, only to see that it hadn’t moved at all. Damn tricky thing.

Talon let out a pained sigh as she went over to the dingy sink and turned it on. The pipes immediately started clattering and groaning. “Really, sir?”

I scoffed. “If you had the day I’ve had you’d want to drink too”

“I’m your second in command; my day wasn’t that much better.” She crossed her forelegs over her chest. “The company needs you right now, sir.”

“I know that.” Just that sometimes it was hard to still care about that. Belladon’s Brawlers, Tenth Company, whatever I called it. The whole thing was just a sick joke. A bunch of has-beens lead by a drunk. Or hell, the whole damned clan system. What were we? Low down backstabbing mercs who pretended we were something better, just because of our proud heritage. Never mind that those ancestors would be horrified to see what we’d become. Or that all our venerated forefathers were assholes too. Warrior clans aren’t built on niceness. The first pegasus clans were just a protection racket dressed up with fancy names. The farmers gave us their food so we wouldn’t steal it from them, and we didn’t let anyone else steal from them ‘cause why share? It was all just one giant pile of manure.

“Sir,” Talon growled, snapping me out of my thoughts. “The company needs its commander in one piece right now. I know you’re sick of hearing it, but this is not the time to go on a bender. Do it after we’ve had a successful job and we’re all flush with funds. Not like half the troops wouldn’t join you for the celebration. But right now we can’t afford to lose you for a couple of days while you crawl into a bottle and drown your sorrows.”

I scoffed. “Like you couldn’t run this company better than I can. Even Nightshade wants to give you a command.” I groaned and ran a hoof through my mane. “Dammit, I don’t want to have to think about any of this. We’re circling the drain, Talon. One more mistake and the whole company’s dead. Or we’re already dead, and our corpse just hasn’t stopped twitching yet. Not like dead things still staggering along and refusing to admit it’s been over for years is that rare for Freeport.”

I groaned and rubbed some sort of gunk out of my eyes. “I know you went to Nightshade to get us out of the fire. You know who he got to pull that off? Lord bucking Atramentous. That’s who. Not that I’m gonna complain about not ending that meeting with my head adorning a Necro’s trophy wall, but I have a feeling all I got was a stay of execution. Atramentous wants us to do a job for him.”

Talon frowned. “One of the oldest, wealthiest, and most powerful necromancers in Freeport wants to hire us? I should think that would be cause for celebration. Especially since his rep says he always pays his debts instead of treating mercs like disposable fodder.”

“Yeah, he said he’d pay us well if the job succeeds.” I grimaced. “And if we survive it. He might not kill us just to save the trouble of paying us, but he’s not exactly shy about sending us into a situation where we’ll all end up dead if it goes wrong.”

“That is what we do,” Talon pointed out. “So if you’re not happy about it, I presume there’s a bit more risk than usual? A situation where he needs deniable asset. If we pull it off, we get paid. If it goes wrong, we’re just a band of criminals he’s never heard of. Probably order the execution himself just to make sure we don’t talk.”

“Pretty much.” I took a deep breath. “So like you probably guessed, we’re doing some dirty dealing. He wants us to help Torch and the Council.”

Talon’s eyes shot wide open. “That ... would definitely qualify. If word of that got out that he was working with them, not even he could survive that. He might be the oldest and strongest of the Necrocrats, but he’s still just one of them.” She frowned as the initial shock faded, and she started thinking strategy. “So what’s his angle? I can’t imagine he plans on defecting to a movement that’s against everything he stands for.”

I shrugged. “Seems like he thinks he can find a way to make it all shake out in a way where he still ends up at the top. Get the Council to kill off the other Necros and cause enough chaos that he gets to take over and make himself the next Archon. Way he sees it, the Necros are doomed one way or another. He just wants to make sure they don’t drag him down with them. Sending a few expendable mercs to help the Council out can go a long way.”

“Makes sense,” Talon grunted. “Not like the current generation of Necros have much in the way of loyalty to each other. If he can keep himself safe by putting a knife in the back of a bunch of people he doesn’t have any respect for ... win-win.”

“Assuming the Council goes for it,” I pointed out. “Once they know he’s mixed up in this, they’d have to know he’s working some kind of angle. Then again, if they were desperate enough to try and recruit us they might not be in a position to turn down help regardless of who’s giving it and what they want out of it.”

“Not like they couldn’t agree to an alliance of convenience, at least,” Talon pointed out. “They can always try to take him down after he’s helped them eliminate all the other Necrocrats.”

“Also an option.” I grimaced and considered trying to slip downstairs to grab that half-empty bottle. Pity Talon would never let me do it. “And that’ll be great for us as long as all their clever little schemes work out. And if it doesn’t, well then Atramentous kills the whole damn company for aiding the rebels, and just writes that off as a failed scheme.“

“Never said it wasn’t a risky job,” Talon conceded. “But at least it’s a job, and not the worst one we’ve had. I’d rather risk getting killed helping people who want to make Freeport a better place than on slave escort duty.”

“I’d rather not get killed at all.” I doubt a corpse cares how brave and noble the cause it died for was. “This is deep into necrocrat business. If it all works out we’ll get paid more than enough to secure the company, but there’s a lot of ways this could go bad.”

“You think we’re not in danger of winding up dead regardless?” Talon pointed out. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but our last job was supposed to be a milk run escort job, and we wound up getting hit twice. If we’re in danger of getting killed no matter what job we take, I’d rather take something that doesn’t make me feel sick to my stomach.”

“Guess so.” I grunted. “Not that we have much of a choice in the matter anyway. Can’t imagine Atramentous is gonna gracefully accept and let us go on our merry way if we tell him no. Guys like him don’t like hearing that word, and there’s always the risk we could sell the info about that job offer to one of his enemies.” I grimaced and slowly nodded as I realized just how screwed we were. “We take the job, or we die. We might die if we take it, but our odds are better than if we defy Atramentous. Besides, we need the money.”

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “So we’ll be working with Torch again. Will that be a problem for you?”

I thought about it for a second. “I’m sore at him for doing us a bad turn, but I can respect him for at least standing up for something. Compared to the times we’ve been backstabbed just to save the cost of paying us or to get a slightly bigger payday, doing it for a good cause he truly believes in is ... better. Still a backstab though.”

“Yeah.” Talon sighed. “Still, we’ve worked with a lot worse than someone we respect, but are still mad at. I’m sure we can find a way to make it work.” She hesitated for a moment. “Mind if I speak a bit bluntly, sir?”

“Do I look like I give a damn if you’re blunt?” I scoffed. “Subtle’d probably be wasted on me when I’ve had this many drinks.”

“True.” Talon took a deep breath. “If Torch had come to us honestly and asked us to hire on with the Council, would you have taken the job?”

I had to think about that for a second. “Getting mixed up with rebellions and revolutions never ends well. The Council wouldn’t pay us a fair wage, or if they did, they’d keep asking us to think about ‘the cause’ and how much more good the money would do somewhere else. Plus ... well, even if I didn’t know about Atramentous until recently, I suspected something was up. Sure, The Council talks a good game, but at the end of the day it’s just gonna be a reshuffle of the assholes at the top of the pyramid. Either Atramentous will use them to seize power, or we’ll get some new group running things that’ll eventually end up being as bad as the Necros.”

“Maybe,” Talon agreed. “But I don’t think the slaves being kept in chains right now care if the people who free them might make a regime that eventually turns corrupt in a century or two. Not saying it’s not messy, but all things considered I’d rather be on the side that’s breaking chains than the one that wants to keep everyone locked in them.”

I didn’t like how this talk was going. “I gave our clients my word, Talon.”

“I know you did, and I know how much that means to you.” She frowned. “Integrity counts for a lot. I’m just not sure it’s more important than any other virtue. How much value is there in keeping your word if you only give your word to horrible clients? There’s clearly a line we need to draw somewhere. We gave our word to stand by our clan and follow the orders, but then the Charger Contract happened. Begs the question, where else do we draw the line?”

“Are you saying we should’ve joined him?” I groaned and shook my head. “We’re mercenaries, Talon. Not rebels.”

“We haven’t had much luck at being mercenaries lately,” Talon countered. “Why stick to a job that barely keeps us alive day to day and keeps getting worse? Something needs to change. Something bigger than us hoping the next contract pays a bit better, and this job’s not quite as ugly as the last one.” She sighed and ran a hoof through her mane. “Haven’t you ever wanted to accomplish something meaningful with your life?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” I groaned and tried to sit up a bit straighter. “But for right now, I’ll settle for keeping the company alive and intact so maybe one day we can actually pull that off. Big dreams are nice, but nothing’ll come of them if we all end up dead.”

“Right.” She frowned down at the floorboards. “So we’re taking the job to work with Torch?”

“Yeah, we are.”

Her frown got a big deeper. “That’s a start. One problem, though: how do we get in touch with him to let him know we’re interested? I don’t suppose Atramentous has any contacts inside the Council who could pass on a message?”

“Nothing that lucky,” I agreed. “Figure out best hope is for him to contact us.”

“Not precisely an ideal solution,” Talon murmured. “There’s no guarantee he’ll do that at all, especially not within the timeframe we’ll need.”

“Yeah, which is why I was working on a plan to kinda nudge things along when you interrupted me.” I snorted. “Gonna take a while to make up for lost time. I’m almost starting to sober up.”

Talon answered that with a skeptical raise of her eyebrow. “So your brilliant plan to get the Council to recruit us was to get drunk?”

“Sort of.” I shrugged. “Get really drunk, then make a big drunken fuss about how I should’ve signed on with Torch when he gave me the chance. Make a big enough scene of it and there’s a decent shot word of it would get back to him. Probably earn me a night in the drunk tank, but I doubt anyone would bother with more than that. Just that old drunk Belladon getting plastered three sheets to the wind and shooting his mouth off again, no reason to take him seriously. Of course he’d say some stupid things after his last job went bad and his company’s falling apart.”

Talon stared at me for several seconds. “You’ve actually weaponized your own alcoholism and poor reputation. I’m impressed.”

“Also why more rum than usual wound up on my clothes, and a bit less in my mouth.” I glanced down and grimaced. “Damn shame to waste any of it, but I figured playing it up a bit more would be help add to the illusion. The more hammered I look, the better.”

“You could just splash some rum over yourself and pretend to be drunk,” Talon pointed out.

“I’m not that good of an actor,” I shot back. “Way easier to pretend to be slightly more drunk than I actually am than to do it while I’m stone cold sober. Not to mention all the little details that are a lot harder to fake. If I do end up in the drunk tank, I need a proper stinky drunk sweat and bloodshot eyes to go with it. Maybe it wouldn’t matter, but if there’s anyone who knows all the ugly little details of drunks, it’s the guards at a drunk tank.”

“You really have thought this through.” A hint of a smirk tugged at her lips. “Or you’ve spun an impressive string of lies together to give you an excuse to get falling-down drunk and say you’re doing it for the good of the company.”

I shrugged. “As long as it all works out, who cares about the details? Now go get me some more rum so I can get properly drunk.”

I suppose the good news was that at least the first stage of my plan went off flawlessly. The bad news was that meant waking up the next morning with a nasty hangover, and then having to lounge around in the drunk tank until Talon came around to bail me out. Giving her the ducats to cover my fines wiped out my drinking money for the near future, but it wasn’t like I could ask her to pay those out of her own pocket or take the cash out of the company’s funds. Maybe I could’ve justified it as a business expense considering it had been part of the cost of contacting Torch, but somehow I doubt any of the troops would’ve believed that.

After that there wasn’t much to do but wait and hope. My gut told me Torch would be keeping an ear to the ground for whatever I was up to. Certainly me going on making drunken spectacle of proclaiming that I’d made a huge mistake not taking that job from him would be exactly the sort of thing he’d want to hear. The only question was if word would get to him, and if he’d actually be able to do anything about it in time.

At least there hadn’t been any trouble from other sources. I’d been a little worried Deathspair or one of the other Necros would come after me, but apparently my drunk camouflage had worked as planned. If anyone found out about it, they just rolled their eyes and grumbled about what a useless old sot I was. Nobody takes an old drunk seriously. Or at least, almost nobody. I was pinning an awful lot of my hopes on Torch doing so. Hopefully he was a big believer in the idea that drunks spouted out their true feelings they would never dare share while sober. A load of horseapples if my experience was anything to go by. I didn’t reveal any deep hidden truths while drunk, I just blathered out whatever random nonsense happened to be on my mind.

Once I was free I headed back to the tavern, trying to decide how best to treat the pounding headache that seemed determined to remain firmly in place. Normally I would’ve gone for a bit of the old hair of the dog that bit me, but I needed a clear head right now. Not to mention that with how bad I’d tied one on last night, getting enough to hold off the hangover would probably require getting drunk all over again. Not exactly a winning move.

The next week wasn’t very much fun. I’d done the only thing I could think of, and now all that was left was to wait and see if Torch reached out to me. Preferably before the next payday, considering how many desperate measures Talon and I had to resort to just to get this month’s paycheck out. I’d managed to avoid selling off any of our spare gear, but only by breaking one of the number one rules of managing a merc company: I was sinking my own money into the coffers. Not like my retirement fund would do me any good if I got strung up by my troops when I told them I couldn’t pay them.

I spent most of my spare time making token efforts to find other jobs, and then just sitting around taverns drinking watered down rum. Not because I needed the booze, it was just that I didn’t trust any water that didn’t have enough alcohol in it to kill whatever else was in it. Not like the cheap dockside taverns I’d been hanging out in would bother with properly filtering and treating it. I was about halfway through my less than pleasant beverage when a pegasus mare with bright blue eyes passed behind me. A second later I half-heard a whisper. “Torch will meet you at the old Talon Trust warehouse in two hours.”

“Wait, what?!” I bolted up from my seat, sending it tumbling down to the floor. The messenger was already out the door by the time I realized what had happened, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I followed her out, just in time to see a flash of her tail disappearing into a nearby alleyway. I had no intention of letting her get away, not without getting a lot more answers.

When I rounded the corner, I saw a dead end alley, but there was no sign of the mare I was after. The only one there was a bleary-eyed gryphon, one who looked about as sober as I’d been last night. “You see a pegasus mare come down here?” I demanded.

The gryphon blinked a few times, then shrugged. He was probably so out of it he wouldn’t have noticed his own mother walking by. But that still begged the question of where she’d gone. Maybe she could’ve flown out of the dead end? I should’ve seen her making her getaway, but maybe she’d come up with something sneaky.

Ugh. Never mind. I’d probably get better answers from Torch than I would from whoever he sent to tell me when and where to meet him.

Two hours later I was outside the old warehouse. Talon Trust had been one of the bigger Westmarch trading companies, but they’d lost interest in trading with Freeport thanks to all the trouble stirred by Equestria and the Council. Why take the risk of having your merchant ships hit by ideological pirates or caught by a naval patrol when there were plenty of safer ports to visit? They were still happy enough to do business with Freeport, they just didn’t see any reason to take on the risk of putting their ships in our troubled waters. Thus, a warehouse that hadn’t seen any use for the last few years.

I headed up to the front door. It had been locked and chained shut once the Talon Trust gave up on it, but a locked warehouse with no guards only stays locked for so long. Doubtless it had been taken over by squatters and smugglers, at least until the Council moved in. Or maybe the Council had only taken it over for a couple hours, and soon enough it would go back to whatever dock flotsam wanted it.

I stepped into the warehouse, and the smell instantly confirmed that the Council wasn’t here long-term. It smelled like a squatter nest, and one occupied by the sort who didn’t think to clean up any garbage or step outside to use a latrine. Still, it was the kind of place nobody came if they had somewhere better to be. Good enough for most private meetings. Even if someone spotted us, most of the locals knew willful blindness was a lot safer than prying into others’ business. Plenty of smugglers and pirates wouldn’t think twice about cleaning up a few inconvenient witnesses, especially when the locals were so low on the ladder that nobody would miss them.

I grimaced and headed into the center of the warehouse. “So, here I am. What do you want to talk about?”

Torch dropped down from the warehouse’s exposed rafters, landing in front of me and smiling. “A pleasure to see you again, captain. Even if our current meeting place leaves a bit to be desired, the pleasant company makes up for it.”

I snorted. “Someone tries buttering me up that hard, they’re usually after my wallet.” That or trying to get me into bed, but I was way too ugly and beaten down for anyone to have tried that for a while. “So are you really happy to see me, or did you just think a bit of sweet talk would make it easier to get me to go along with whatever mess you want to drag me into?”

Torch chuckled softly. “Just as surly as I remember. Would you believe that it’s a bit of both? It costs nothing to be pleasant, especially to someone I would like to consider a friend, but I can hardly deny I was hoping to recruit you.”

“Recruit me, huh?” I might have wanted the job, but I knew better than to let that show. Considering the terms we’d parted on last time, not being grouchy would look suspicious. “Guess since you weren’t a real merc, you don’t know how it goes. Whenever someone wants to be my friend, it always seems to lead to ‘well can’t you just do this one job for free for your old buddy?’ Though in your case I expect you’ll toss in a bit of ‘Don’t you want to help out the poor oppressed slaves?’”

Torch sighed and shook his head. “I know better than to ask under those terms. In fact, I was hoping to hire you. I won’t deny that could lead you into quite a bit of trouble, but it’s honest paying work and I’m willing to meet the usual market rate for your services. I don’t expect a mercenary to work for free.”

So, a paycheck from him, and one from Atramentous when it was all done? I could work with that. “Alright then, I’ll hear your pitch. We both know I’ve taken jobs from far worse clients.”

“Thank you.” Torch took a seat. “The job should be simple enough, just another escort mission. I’m going to Equestria, and I need an honor guard to come with me. Not to mention a bit of protection for the journey. As I’m sure you’ve noticed, the seas are rather perilous, especially the route between Freeport and Equestria. Considering the unofficial blockade and embargo, I can’t exactly blend in on an ordinary trade ship.”

That all sounded just a bit too simple and easy for my tastes. I never trust jobs that sound too easy. “That’s it? Doesn’t seem like something you’d need to hire a whole company for.”

“Certainly not in normal times, but these times are hardly normal,” Torch pointed out. “Your last ship got attacked twice on its way back from Port Nowhere, and if the Necrocrats catch wind of there being a Council envoy headed to Equestria, they’ll throw quite a few ships into stopping us. As the old saying goes, I’d rather have too much security than not enough.” He shrugged and shot me a self-effacing smile. “Not to mention that I did do your company a bit of a bad turn. I know you only took that job because your finances were desperate, and I can’t imagine your client paid you for coming back with an empty cargo hold. Consider hiring your company my way of offering recompense.”

“Right.” I knew better than to buy that line, even if it did sound nice. A bunch of abolitionists wouldn’t give a damn if some mercs who worked for slavers were in a bad way. Torch was just playing nice to try and win me over to his cause. Still, the money was good. “If I take the job, no more lies or nasty surprises. I’ll let what you did on the last job slide for now, but the instant you turn on me or make me think you’re sharpening another knife for my back, I’ll find out just how much the Necrocrats are willing to pay for you.”

That finally got the smile off Torch’s face. “I can’t say I like the idea of being threatened, but I suppose in light of everything that happened I can’t fault your suspicions. I assure you, from this point forward there will complete openness and honesty, save for any facts that might endanger other members of the Council.”

“Fair.” I could hardly ask him to sell out any allies just to win my trust. “You said you’d pay a fair market rate. Mind getting a bit more specific?”

He chuckled softly. “I recall a saying I heard once. ‘When negotiations get down to debating the price, you’ve already conceded to making the deal.”

“Doesn’t mean talks can’t fall apart if the offer’s not good enough.” I took a seat and crossed my forelegs over my chest. “I’m a merc. Unless someone’s trying to hire me for something utterly evil, the price is what negotiations are all about, and I’ve turned down plenty of jobs.” Even if I hadn’t had the luxury of turning down paying work lately.

“Very true.” Torch’s smile came back as he gave me his first offer. “That should be more than enough to keep your company afloat for the length of the job, and even allow you a few weeks to relax and catch your breath before the next job.” His smile turned just a touch too cocksure. “And I’ll remove any spell-traps still left in your company’s equipment as a courtesy.”

“Damn well better.” I hadn’t gotten around to finding some street mage to look over our gear yet, especially considering the budget I had to work with. What little I knew about magic said that those traps would be a one-time thing, but I was just an old merc who’d seen some things. Long damn way from being an expert. I would be a lot happier if someone could confirm I wouldn’t be getting any nasty surprises. “The price is reasonable, at least. Almost sounds too good to be true. Of course, you glanced over the part where this will make me and my company traitors as far as the Necrocrats are concerned.”

Torch shrugged. “Only if they find out, and are the type to bear a grudge. I’m sure you could make up a grand story about how I deceived you into working for the Council without knowing who your employer truly was. In fact, I would encourage it. Let them think I’m a master manipulator who can bend everyone to my whims.” He leaned in a bit closer, smiling knowingly. “Besides, I doubt you have any love for them “

“Can’t say I do,” I confessed. “Not that anyone seems to be all that fond of them. Nobody on the bottom of the pyramid likes getting stepped on, and even the ones on top all seem to hate each other. Can’t say the way that my last client threatened to kill me for the job going bad did much to endear me to him.” I frowned and shook my head. “Not that I was all that eager about taking that job in the first place.”

“Poverty and desperation can push many to do things that would otherwise be unthinkable.” He took a deep breath. “One of many reasons Freeport desperately needs change. Imagine how much we could change this city by working together.”

“Sounds like you aim to get a lot more than just one escort mission out of me.” I held up a hoof to cut him off. “And no, I’m not gonna volunteer to hook up with your crazy revolution and fight for free. Now, if you’re talking about a potential long term contract...”

Torch shrugged. “I can’t promise it would be, since quite a bit is going to depend on exactly how our mission goes. However, if it goes well that would certainly make hiring your company on a more permanent basis seem appealing.”

“Huh.” I tried to figure out how exactly I felt about that. A steady paycheck instead of little one-off jobs would do wonders for the company’s finances and morale. Even when we could make good money on smaller jobs, nobody liked the uncertainty of not knowing where and when our next paycheck was coming from. I would certainly sleep a lot easier if I could stop worrying about whether I’d be able to pay my troops this month.

On the other hoof, it would mean tying ourselves to the Council. I could take one job for them and say it was just another mercenary contract. A long-term deal would make it a lot harder to play that game. Which meant that if the Council went down me and mine would go down with them. I couldn’t say I liked the idea of that. The whole point of being a mercenary was to not get mixed up in causes and ideologies.

Still, no sense worrying about the long term just yet. For the short term, it was a good job that would fix my company’s finances, and give me opening to finish my commission from Lord Atramentous. No sense worrying about my company’s long-term plans if it didn’t survive the next couple weeks. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I think we can work out a price for this first job. Can’t say I’m wild about getting back on a boat for another escort mission when we just wrapped one up, but at least it’s a paycheck. The troops might not be wild about working for you after you did us dirty, but we’re mercs. A signing bonus and a keg of rum will go a long way to smoothing that over. Especially if I can get that signing bonus a day early so they have one night to waste it on whatever sounds good to them.”

“I don’t have an unlimited budget,” Torch pointed out. “There are those in the Council who think we could spend the money on far better things than hiring your company. Every ducat I give you is one we can’t spend on feeding, clothing, and treating our refugees.”

It was hard to come up with an answer to that where I didn’t sound like a heartless bastard. Not like I wanted them to take money out of the mouths of starving child slaves. But I had a company to take care of, and without something to smooth over any ruffled feathers, there’d be plenty of grumbles about working for Torch. “My guys aren’t going to care about that kind of thing. They want fair compensation. Only takes one really disgruntled guy to sell us out to the Necrocrats. Not saying they’re on the verge of mutiny or anything, but sometimes showing a little bit of respect goes a long way.”

“Ah.” Torch shrugged. “Well, I’m sure we can arrange something. I’ll admit, working with mercenaries is a bit different from the usual recruits we get. They’re just a touch committed to the cause and enthusiastic about helping.”

“If you wanted an enthusiastic idealist, you shouldn’t have hired a mercenary,” I pointed out. “We do the job, and we get paid. Giving a damn about what you stand for is optional, and in my experience pretty damn rare.”

“Everyone needs to believe in something,” Torch countered. “Without some broader purpose, what’s the point of even being alive? It’s how I made it through the downfall of my clan when so many others didn’t. The remnants of Pegasopolis devoted ourselves to our clans, but now those old clan structures have fallen apart, and in my case vanished completely. So I found a new cause, something worth being part of.” He smiled at me. “That’s why I want you to join me, Belladon. You’re a lost soul, like I once was. What you need is a good cause to fill that giant clan-shaped hole in your heart.”

I scoffed. “The clans? They’re just a bunch of corrupt self-serving assholes. Probably always were, no matter how much we like to go on about all the honor and glory of old Pegasopolis.”

“Maybe so,” Torch conceded. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t need something to believe in, whether it’s the clans or something else. Just because the clans were flawed and imperfect doesn’t mean we can’t follow their ideals while trying to avoid their mistakes. I know the Council isn’t perfect either, but freeing slaves is still the right thing to do.”

I groaned and shook my head. “Look, Torch, I’m already taking the job. You don’t have to try and win me over to your grand cause. Just pay me, and I’ll do the work. And if you plan to use this job to keep trying to fill my head with crazy ideas the price is gonna go up.”

Torch sighed and shook his head. “Very well then, I’ll keep things professional. Though I do hope you’re in the mood to discuss the bigger picture at some point.”

“Don’t count on it,” I grunted. “Now about that signing bonus...”

Author's Notes:

As always, thanks to my pre-reading and editing team for all their hard work. Also, I would like to thank all my dedicated Patreon supporters. You guys are awesome.

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Zennyth

The Last Charger 8

The ship Torch and his Council friends picked up for us didn’t do much to inspire confidence. Freedom’s Ring was a nice name, but probably too nice for a ship like this. Then again, a big ugly fat-bellied merchantman might be just the thing to let us blend in with every other ship out on the high seas. Still, considering this was supposed to be a diplomatic envoy mission, something a bit nicer and speedier would’ve been nice.

Torch seemed to guess what I was thinking. “We have to make do with the ships we have, not the ones we’d like. Besides, this way there will be more room for your company. Packing everyone onto a sloop got a bit crowded.”

“At least now that you’re the client you won’t have to bunk with all the common troops,” I pointed out. “Though you still have all the gruntwork of fixing our gear to look forward to. Should’ve thought about that before you hired us on and made that part of the contract.”

Torch shrugged. “It was only fair. Undoing all that spell sabotage wouldn’t be cheap. If you will forgive the egotism and me poking at an open wound, I did quite a good job of it. Considering your company’s finances, hiring someone to undo the traps might well have been beyond you.”

“Probably would’ve just sold it off,” I confessed. “Cost us way less than it would to pay someone to fix what you did, and with how proud you are of all that sabotage, I’m guessing none of the ironmongers we’d sell it to would notice. Not like it’d put anyone else who bought the stuff in a bad way either, long as they didn’t wind up on your bad side.”

“Which is not that unlikely, given my position,” Torch pointed out. “Though really, we both know you wouldn’t mind terribly if I managed to escape the clutches of the necrocrats thanks to a lovely little coincidence like that.” Torch sighed and shook his head. “Still, it’s better this way. If nothing else, you get to keep anything unique or with sentimental value.”

“Good thing.” Talon flitted down next to us, nodding at Torch and snapping off a quick salute my way. “With all the work I’ve put into my crossbow, if I ever had to give it up, somebody was going to catch a bolt.” Her eyes settled on Torch. “We didn’t go down until you triggered the spell. Means all I’d have to do is put a bolt into your head before you even knew I was there. I can do that.”

Torch chuckled and held up his hooves in mock surrender. “I never doubted that you could. Though for what my word is worth, I never sabotaged your crossbow. You guarded that weapon far too carefully for me to ever get my hooves on it. I only got a chance to work with whatever gear the company was comfortable letting the newest recruit handle.”

Talon grunted. “I don’t even let the captain touch my crossbow. No way I’d hand it over to some wet-behind-the ears recruit.”

I snorted. “Still haven’t forgiven me for the one time I borrowed it to fire off a single shot five feathering years ago, have you?

“Took me a week to get it sighted back in properly after you had it,” Talong grumbled.

“I didn’t even touch the damned sights!” I groaned and rolled my eyes. “There is no way I could possibly have messed up your crossbow so bad it took you a week to fix it just by holding it for two minutes and firing off a single shot.”

Talon shot a flat, unamused glower my way. “And yet, you did.”

I sighed and shook my head. There was no use arguing with her once she’d made up her mind. I was guilty, and that was the end of it. Best just to move on before I got myself into more trouble than I needed to deal with today. Or ever, really. “So how’s the ship look? Any nasty surprises? Or hay, we’re due for a good surprise. First time for everything.”

“Not today.” Talon’s eyes cut over to Torch. “Looks like this was an old slave-hauler before the Council got it. They got rid of all the chains and such, even managed to wash out most of the smell. Fresh coat of paint too, probably so nobody’ll recognize it.” She grimaced. “It’s going to be slightly more maneuverable than you after a bottle of rum, but at least it’s not slow. Since the cargo hold’s empty we’ll have plenty of room for the troops, too. This ship’s designed to hold six times as many ponies as we have.”

“Though not in very pleasant conditions,” Torch growled.

I grunted. “I’ll take what I can get. Though I don’t suppose we could get something that’ll be more maneuverable than a bloated whale?”

Torch sighed. “If you have a spare clipper you could loan us, I’d be delighted. Otherwise, this is the ship we have. At least it will make good time once we hit open water and can start piling on the canvas.”

“Maybe, but we’ve got to get to open ocean first.” Going fast without being maneuverable was just asking for trouble as long as we were in the archipelago. There were shipwrecks, reefs, sandbars, and a dozen other things that could rip the bottom out of any boat that didn’t go around them. Not to mention that with us being both slow and clumsy... “It’s gonna be ugly if we run across pirates or anyone else who thinks we’ve got a fat hold full of cargo.”

“At least we’ll be well-equipped to fight off any boarding action,” Talon commented. “And if we run into pirates, they wouldn’t want to do the smart play of standing off at range and sinking the ship. Lot harder to plunder a ship that’s underwater.”

Torch grimaced. “Hopefully it won’t come to that. At least we won’t need to worry as much about pirates attacking an outbound ship. They’ll probably assume we’re a slave ship, and those almost always have empty cargo holds on the way out.” He looked the ship over, then shook his head. “We're an outlaw resistance movement. We can’t go into the nearest shipyard and commission something. The only oceangoing ships we have are what we capture, which is mostly slavers.”

“What about Glory’s old sloop?” I pointed out. “You took that off us along with everything else on the last job. You had plenty of lighter ships for a fight, too.”

“I think you forget how much damage that ship took in the battle.” Torch countered. “It needs quite a bit of dock time before we’re sending it out again, especially since we also need to get it fit for our purposes. As for trying to take one of our raiding galleys out into open ocean, there are far quicker and less messy forms of suicide.”

I grimaced and shook my head. “Yeah, those aren’t for going out into open ocean.” Which meant our options were pretty narrow. The refit of Glory’s old ship would probably take long enough that it’d be quicker to just take the slave hauler. Not to mention the Council probably had a lot of other things they’d like to do with an ocean-going warship than have it play a glorified courier.

“So we make the best of it with the ship we have,” Talon concluded. She frowned, looking it over. “Since we have a hauler, it seems a shame to make the trip to Equestria with an empty cargo hold. I’d imagine the embargo against Freeport wouldn’t apply to a Council ship.”

“It doesn’t,” Torch confirmed. “We’ve done a little bit of smuggling to the Equestrians in the past, but it was always a risky proposition. It was pretty profitable, but with the ships we lost due to weather, the necrocrats, pirates, and everything else we had to pretty much give up on it. Ships are one of our most precious resources. Each one we lose hurts.”

“Well, we’ve got plenty of escorts to keep it safe from pirates, at least.” I sighed and shook my head. “Not that it matters. Not like we could sail this into the docks and buy a load of cargo from one of the merchants.”

Torch shook his head. “Even if we could, the Council can’t spare the ducats. We’re over budget on this mission as it is. I can’t imagine your company’s in any position to make an investment like that either. I suppose we could always reach out to the Doos, but...”

“Wouldn’t count on them doing us any favors,” I agreed. “Assuming they don’t just turn us in for the price on your head, which they probably would, they’d want a huge share of the profits in exchange for spotting us the cargo. Just like any other merchant, they’ll screw us as hard as they can to up their own profits.” That’d been the whole problem with the clans: we might’ve had a lot of ancient history in common, but the Doos were traders now. Just like the Strikers were mercs, and the Chargers had been necrocrats. Old history doesn’t count for much when you put it up against modern realities.

“You’re right,” Talon conceded. She didn’t give me much time to savor that rare victory. “We can’t buy any cargo. But I never said we were going to buy it.”

There was a hint of mischief in her voice, and a touch of energy I hadn’t seen from her in a long time. I should’ve been happy about that, but past experience told me that anytime she was in one of those moods then things were about to get interesting."What're you thinking Talon?”

Talon rolled out a simple map showing the most of the major islands in the archipelago. “So, here’s the fastest route between Freeport and Equestria.” She traced a line going roughly westwards. “And right here's a sugar plantation that's almost exactly on our route. As an added bonus, it belongs to our old friend Deathspair. Worth mentioning that sugar's one of the best trade goods to run to Equestria right now. They’ve been making do with honey and other sweeteners while the embargo’s on, but there’s no substitute for proper sugarcane.”

I looked over the map. “Risky. Not saying I don’t like the idea of getting back at him, but you know Deathspair isn’t going to take it lying down if we raid his crops.”

Talon shrugged. “I wasn't planning on us leaving a note saying we did it.”

I scowled and shook my head. “He’ll suspect us. We wouldn’t be the first merc company who decided to take their pay when the client wouldn’t hand it over willingly.”

“Of course he’ll think we did it,” Talon agreed. “But if he can't prove it, what can he do? From what you said there are plenty of powerful players who don’t want him chasing after a vendetta with us. Even if he could prove we did it, all his rival necrocrats would probably think he got what he deserved. Might even make some of them want to hire us.”

“Getting mixed up in Necrocrat rivalries isn’t a game I’m eager to play,” I pointed out. “They always treat us mercs as expendable pawns, and I can’t say I like the idea of being expended.”

“Just about every job we’ve taken lately is some kind of rivalry game,” Talon countered. “The Necros are constantly doing their internal games and power struggles. The only difference is that this time we’d be taking some initiative and we’ll know what the stakes are. Not to mention the payday we’ll get for a full load of sugar.”

That was a damn good point. “It would be nice to pay him back for stiffing us on the last job. Not to mention we could use some extra ducats to get us back into the green again.” Torch’s job would keep our heads above water for the time being, but our savings were still pretty much shot. I wouldn’t say no to having some cash left to fall back on the next time things went wrong. Not to mention I had a retirement fund to fill back up.

Guess that decided it. “Alright then. We need a plan, and a good one. It’s going to need to be a nighttime raid to keep the plausible deniability. Comes with a lot of bother for us, but it’ll be even worse for them. After all, we know it’s coming, and we’ll be prepared.”

“Undead aren’t usually too bothered by darkness,” Talon cautioned. “While sunlight’s usually unpleasant for them. Safe bet most of the guards on that island will be some flavor of undead, plus some bush-league necromancers to monitor them.” She patted her crossbow. “Give me some nice cover and a sunny day, and I’ll put a bolt in every last caster they have. Can’t do that when it’s dark. Not to mention sunlight’s usually not healthy for anything undead.”

“True,” Torch agreed. “Though its effects are often somewhat overstated. It’s an advantage, but the undead wouldn’t be such popular weapons if they were ineffective for half of every day.”

“Undead might be better in the dark,” I conceded. “But the necros controlling them aren’t. And there’s the element of surprise to consider.” I shook my head. “Probably decide one way or the other once we get a closer look at what we’re dealing with.”

Talon nodded. “No sense planning too much before we have a look at their defenses. Could be a cakewalk, or they might be so tough we drop the idea entirely. Still, a cargo hold full of sugar would go a long way towards securing our future.”

“Not to mention it would go a long way towards winning over the Council,” Torch added. “Our share would turn this mission from an expensive investment to a net profit.”

I held up a hoof to cut him off. “Don’t start counting your profits just yet. If you think we’re going to be splitting the profits fifty-fifty when it’s my company that’s going to be taking all the risks and doing all the hard work...”

“I was planning to join you for the fighting,” Torch answered. “Not to mention I’m providing the ship and crew, plus the legitimacy you’ll need to actually make the deal go through. With the embargo on, nobody in Equestria is going to buy your cargo hold full of Freeport sugar unless it’s being sold by the Council.”

“Pretty sure we could find someone who wants it.” I shrugged. “No boycott has a one hundred percent participation rate.”

“Perhaps,” Torch agreed. “But how long would it take you to find a buyer? Not to mention you would almost certainly take a hit on the price if you have to go through back channels. While the Council can sell to reputable buyers, and get a premium from those who want to support our cause.”

I snorted. “What, you use the whole abolition movement to justify a price hike?”

Torch didn’t rise to the bait. “If it gets us more money that helps us free more slaves? Yes. To make this mission work, I’m probably going to have to denounce my own uncle and clan in front of all the nobles in Canterlot. I’ll be breaking bread with Magnus Kicker and other officers who made their name from destroying half my clan. I’ll have to look my uncle’s killer in the eye, and ask him for help.” He scoffed and shook his head. “Compared to that, a few nice words to make Equestrians feel better about paying above market price is nothing.”

Kid had a point there. “Not saying you’re not entitled to a share. Just not gonna be an even split unless you’ve got a lot more to offer.”

Torch shrugged. “This plan wouldn’t work without my ship, crew, and contacts. Still, I suppose you do have a point. A sixty-forty split in your favor then?”

I would’ve taken that deal, but since he’d opened with that offer I saw no reason not to push for a bit more. “Sixty-five and thirty five.”

Torch sighed. “Must we argue over every last ducat? Especially when every percent you take could make a difference for slaves suffering in bondage, or refugees we’re trying to help find their way home.”

“I’m not a charity. Every extra percent could mean a lot more security for my company.” Maybe I could even give the troops a bit of a bonus and some extra spending money for while we were in Equestria. They could certainly use a bit of proper leave time. Our stayover in Freeport had been tense. The common troops didn’t know all the ugly details of our finances, but most of them knew or at least suspected things weren’t great.

Torch sighed and nodded. “Deal.”

“Good.” We shook hooves.

“Yes, it is.” Torch smiled. “Especially since as long as we’re raiding a plantation we can free all the slaves as well.”

I groaned and tried to massage away a rapidly forming headache. Should’ve seen that one coming. It was probably why he’d given me the percentage I wanted. “You said we wouldn’t be running around doing any nonsense like that. Next thing you’re gonna tell me is that we should just go ahead and try and kill Deathspair while we’re stealing his sugar and freeing his slaves.”

Torch shrugged. “If he happens to be at the plantation when we strike it I would certainly do my best to take him down, but I doubt we’ll get the chance. He doesn’t have any interest in the day to day operations of his plantations beyond spending the money they make him. And after the way he treated you, would you really mind that much if he died?”

Talon shook her head. “I wouldn’t mind putting a bolt into him on principle, but it’d give us a lot of fresh trouble we don’t need.”

“Damn right.” Getting mixed up in the death of a Necrocrat would pretty much paint a huge target on me and all the Brawlers. And not just us. “Can’t imagine the Council’d be wild about it either. If there’s one thing that’d make the necrocrats stop backstabbing each other and start working together, it’d be killing one of their own.”

“It’s also a clear signal to the rest of the world,” Torch countered. “How many would like to support us, but fear the Council doesn’t have the strength to accomplish anything? Perhaps a dramatic example is exactly what we need to shock everyone out of their complacency. Apathy is a far greater enemy to our cause than active malice. For every one person who opposes us, there are a dozen who think we’ll just fail, or that nothing we can do will ever make a difference. What better way to prove them wrong than destroying a Necrocrat?”

As one of those apathetic masses, I saw the problem with his reasoning. “Most of them will just figure you went and got too big too fast, and now the necrocrats will crush you for it.” I frowned as something clicked for me. “You know, you don’t think like an outlaw. Most underground movements like to keep their heads down; move in the shadows as much as possible. Don’t take any big chances, because all it takes is one screw-up to lose everything. But you like the gamble, don’t you? Bold action, big risks, betting on ponies like me to come around. That’s not how an outlaw revolutionary works.” I scowled. “But it makes a lot more sense for the last survivor of a clan who’s hunting for a legacy.”

Torch’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right, most of the Council likes to play it safe. The problem with that is it means accomplishing less. We’re going to see exactly how those slaves are treated when we raid Deathspair’s sugar plantation. Take a good long look at that, then see if you can tell me we should play it safe and take our time freeing them.”

So it was all about righteous wrath and indignation? Guess that fit for a young idealist, but there’s a reason most of those grow up and out of it. “If the Council gets wiped out because you wanna rush head-first into things, how many slaves get saved?”

Torch sighed and shook his head. “I know. Though for someone who insists he has no interest in helping our movement beyond the purely mercenary, you do seem to be quite eager to offer free advice on our grand strategy. Almost as if you care more than you’re willing to admit.”

Maybe the kid had a bit of a point, but I sure as hell wasn’t gonna give him that. Otherwise he’d use it to try and talk me into doing some damn fool hero thing that’d get me killed. So instead I switched gears to get back to the mission. “So, Deathspair’s island. If it’s a slave plantation, it’s a safe bet that whoever he's got overseeing the slaves is going to be a mean sonofanag. They always are, whether it’s cause only the mean ones want that job, or the job makes ‘em mean. Guess it doesn’t really matter which.”

“I doubt the slaves being whipped care,” Torch agreed. “The plantation will also have some necromancers watching over the island, and not worthless ones like that merc Glory hired. Not that they’ll be Deathspair’s best either, since plantation work is normally used for training journeyman necromancers. It gives them lots of experience at raising the dead and putting them to work. There will be living guards too, to fill the gaps for all the jobs undead servitors aren’t good at.”

“Judgement calls and showing initiative, mostly,” I filled in. “Nice thing about living guards, they also have the sense to throw in the towel and give up once things go bad. The undead will keep on fighting until you destroy the head, the heart, or cut off their magic.”

“The last course generally being the best against anything that’s not self-animating.” Torch hefted Chainbreaker with a confident grin. “Of course, I'm good at taking down necromancers.”

“Not just you.” Talon gave her crossbow an affectionate pat. “All the zombies go back to being bodies if you put a bolt in the brain of their controller.”

“Part of why I wanted a surprise attack,” I pointed out. “If we put down a couple necros before the fight gets serious, it’ll save us a lot of trouble.”

“I could also try sneaking into the slave quarters to stage a breakout,” Torch offered. “If you can spare some knives from your company stockpile, it would go a long way towards helping them defend themselves.”

Again with his damned liberation plans. “What exactly do you plan to do with an entire plantation’s worth of slaves anyway? No way we could get them all out without stacking them in as tight as they were when they got brought in on a ship like this. Not to mention that wouldn’t leave us any room for the cargo that’s supposed to be the whole point of this raid.”

Torch’s teeth clenched, and for a second I thought he was about to lay into me. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was going to say: that my company’s profit margin could go feather itself when he had to play hero to a bunch of slaves. His mouth was halfway open when he stopped, and I had a pretty good idea why. Without the payday, there was no way I’d go ahead with the job. Call me a heartless bastard, but I was a merc captain before anything else. That meant I had to take care of all the troops under my command before anything else, and right now my troops needed money. It’s not that I didn’t feel bad for the slaves, but helping them came after seeing to me and mine.

Eventually the kid sighed and shook his head. “I’m sure we can make some other arrangements for the refugees. The island will doubtless have some vessels docked for fishing, supplies, and anything else the garrison might need.”

“Works for me,” I grunted. “One other thing. Soon as finish our mission, my troops are all pulling out. I’m not sticking around for a week if you need your Council buddies to send more ships to rescue everyone.”

Torch grimaced and nodded. “Agreed. Occupying the island is too risky. As soon as Deathspair learns we attacked it, he’s going to respond with overwhelming force. Both us and the refugees need to be long gone before that happens.”

“No arguments there.” Was nice to see even Torch’s desire to play hero had limits. “We better come up with a good plan for this raid. We’ve got to fill our hold, bust the chains off all the slaves, and get everyone out of there before Deathspair comes in.” The cargo took priority for me over the heroic liberation of the slaves, but I wasn’t going to leave them behind to get their heads mounted on Deathspair’s trophy wall. I can be a bit of a stone cold bastard, but I’m not heartless.

Talon nodded. “When it comes to a plan, I had a few suggestions in mind...”

My first impression of Deathspair’s sugar plantation was pretty bad. Fortunately, this was one of those times when first impressions didn’t count for much.

From a distance, the island looked pretty well fortified. There was a basic wooden wall around the whole island, dotted with plenty of watchtowers. It was a pretty common setup for plantations, since it did the double duty of keeping attackers out and the slaves in. Not that the average slave stood much chance of actually making a swim all the way to another island, but plenty of them would be willing to give it a shot after a taste of life in chains. A lot of the ones who wound up drowning or eaten by all the big fish probably still thought they’d come out ahead compared to getting broken in the plantation.

There were plenty of outside threats to keep an eye out for too. The Council was naturally going to be a concern for any plantation, but they were the newest player in the game. Pirates and bandits were a lot more common. Not like we were the first ones to get the bright idea of raiding a plantation to load up our ship full of free trade goods.

The necrocrats were also quite fond of going after each other’s side businesses. It was hard to stay the top dogs of Freeport without money, and tormenting the souls and twisting the flesh of the dead didn’t bring in ducats. Plantations, lumber mills, kelp farms, fisheries, and a bunch of other little business ventures did that. With all the internal backstabbing the necrocrats loved to get up to, it was no surprise some of them started going after each other’s money.

So yeah, on the outside the island looked like it would be a tough nut to crack. But one of the fun little life lessons I’d learned on my first trip to a cathouse, don’t ever judge things by how they look on the outside. “Only four of those towers actually have guards,” Talon confirmed. “Just two guards apiece, eight total. The rest are empty.”

I did a quick scan with my telescope to confirm it. I’d gone ahead with Talon and Torch for a quick scouting run. Unless the guards were really on the ball, they wouldn’t notice the three of us scoping out their base from cloud-cover. Once she got a good look, Talon presented her conclusions. “They’ve gotten lazy. Complacent. Nothing’s happened, so they’re all just bored and killing time. The ones who are bothering at all aren’t even looking for outside threats, just keeping an eye on the slaves in case one makes a run for it.”

I scowled and shook my head. “We’ll still need to take them out unless we want to get filled with crossbow bolts. They don’t look incompetent, just bored. Once we lose the element of surprise, they’ll get serious. Might be best if we don’t give them the chance to recover. Just go in hard and fast with no punches pulled. Everything gets a lot less complicated if we can kill off the defenders before they even organize a defense. Still, surprised they’ve slacked off this bad. It’s why you usually don’t want troops on garrison duty for too long. They lose focus.”

“There might be more to it than laziness,” Torch pointed out. “With the embargo and boycott going on, profits are sure to be down. Does Deathspair strike you as the type to care that broader economic forces are to blame for his business making less money?”

The kid wasn’t wrong. Deathspair would want someone’s head on his wall. Talon followed that thought to the logical conclusion. “So the manager is cutting costs to stay in the green?”

“Exactly. If you can’t make more money, just spend less.” I scoffed and shook my head. “And that’s assuming he wasn’t already slashing costs wherever he could just to maximize his profits. None of those guards help with the bottom line, after all. Not until they actually stop someone from robbing the place, and I’d bet none of that’s happened for a bit.”

“Easy to see why the overseer would cut security when all the guards do is sit around looking bored and waiting for something to happen,” Talon agreed. “I won’t complain when it makes our job easier. Do we want to try and take out the guards quietly, or just rush them?”

I didn’t see any reason to beat around the bush. “Let’s just rush them. With how slack they’ve gotten, we can be in and on them before they know they’re under attack. We overwhelm them, and break their morale outright. If we’re lucky they’ll quit as soon as they see things have turned against them.”

Talon nodded. “Might be best to keep the plan simple. Getting too clever about it just gives us more ways to mess up. I can snipe one of them no problem, but there’s two guards in each tower. Even if one of them is napping or slacking off, hard to miss their friend falling over dead. Not saying I couldn’t reload and hit the other one before he sets off an alarm, but it’s a big risk.” She turned to Torch. “You have any spells that could take both at once?”

Torch sighed and shook his head. “Pretty much all my evocation is limited to touch range. Once I’m in there I can take them both down quickly enough, but it’s the same problem as with Talon’s sniping when it comes to getting both of them before they set off an alarm. Can’t tell for sure from this far out, but they almost certainly have some kind of quick-triggering ward.”

“No point having a watchtower if they can’t raise the alarm at a moment’s notice,” I agreed. “So no point being subtle, let’s just hit them hard and fast. Even if they raise the alarm, it won’t do much good when we’ll be on the barracks while everyone’s still half-awake and with no more armor than a bedsheet. Besides, if you two are trying to be stealthy, it means you’re not focused on taking any necros out. They’re the big threat. Take out their leaders and the undead stop being a problem, and the mercs won’t have any fight left in ‘em.”

Torch nodded. “There’s a lot to be said for keeping the plan simple. Tempting as it is to try and smuggle some weapons into the slave barracks so they can set off an uprising, I can think of far too many ways that could end very badly for both us and the slaves.”

“And a dozen untrained half-starved slaves armed with farm tools and knives won’t be enough to make a difference unless things have already gone wrong,” I added. “Best to leave the fighting to trained warriors, kid. The civilians are too much of an unpredictable factor. Chances are they'll just cower and try to find a hiding spot until the screaming stops, or swing to the complete other side of the pendulum and start massacring everything that isn’t a slave. I’d rather not have any of my soldiers get stabbed by a slave that can’t tell the difference between between their guards and the ones who’re here to liberate them.”

“Not to mention them running around with weapons will get them killed,” Talon pointed out.

“They’re much more likely to survive by keeping their heads down,” Torch agreed. “On the topic of survival, are we taking prisoners?”

I scowled and shook my head. “The cynic in me says kill them all. No witnesses to peg this on us and tell Deathspair who wrecked his plantation.”

Talon grimaced and nodded. “Not like we could do much with prisoners anyway. Doubt we’d want to recruit any of them the way we did with Glory’s bunch, and taking them all the way to Equestria hardly seems practical. Equestrians would probably just hang them anyway.”

Torch shrugged. “At that point, we might as well hold a trial by the freed. It’s something of a Council tradition. We go through everyone who surrendered or we captured, and let the former slaves decide on their fate.”

“I saw how that ended with the slave ship we did escort duty on.” Though considering the kind of things most slaves suffered through, I couldn’t exactly fault them a bit of revenge. Even left a bit of room for mercy on the off chance there was a nice guy who didn’t deserve a hanging, not that many of those existed among slavers. “I don't like massacres. It’s not right, and once word of it gets out, it encourages the next guy to fight to the death. Problem is, I’m not seeing a practical way around it this time. At least nobody will talk ... as long the necros can’t pull up the dead to get answers.”

“I can make that harder for them,” Torch volunteered.

“That's something at least. Figures you’d have some way to cover that.” From what Torch had given up about his magical talents, his main focus had been a bunch of anti-necromancer tricks. Made him a useful guy to have around, regardless of all the extra trouble. “Alright, anything else to cover?” Torch and Talon both shook their heads. “Alright, let’s get ready then. Talon, help me brief the troops. Get some grime on anything metallic or shiny. We’re not trying for heavy stealth, but I’d rather not give it away until we’re right on top of ‘em.” Despite myself, I could feel a little bit of excitement building up. “Let’s go steal some sugar.”

Hammering out the plan went pretty quickly since there wasn’t a very complicated plan. Pretty much just rush in, and kill everything armed and hostile until they started surrendering. Then Torch could have his little show-trial to decide what to do with them. The only tricky part was deciding who would be in our vanguard teams securing the towers, and who’d be in reserve.

You’d think that would’ve been easy, but of course there were one or two things to make it a bit complicated. “I’ll lead the charge.” Something that looked a bit too sad to actually be a smile tugged at Torch’s lips. “It seems fitting, considering the old family motto. Besides, you’ll want me in the frontlines if we run into any of the necromancers.”

I scowled and nodded. “Right, the necros are the number one threat we need to look out for. Zombies aren’t going to be tired or confused, and won’t be sleeping with all their armor off. This fight’ll get a lot harder if they manage to organize any undead they’ve got shuffling around.” My eyes settled on Torch. “Don’t get yourself killed being a hero. If you weren’t our only spellcaster I wouldn’t even let you in on this fight. You’re not a merc, you’re the client. If you go and get yourself killed, we don’t get paid.” Even if I could somehow get in touch with the Council, they probably wouldn’t be inclined to pay for an escort mission where the guy I was supposed to be escorting wound up dead.

Talon gave her crossbow a pat. “Don’t worry, I’ll watch his back. Yours too, Captain.”

“How could I not feel safer with such a lovely mare guarding me?” Torch quipped with a smile. “But don’t worry, now that you know most of my secrets, I won’t need to hold anything back.” He closed his eyes, and a second later I felt the tiny hairs on the back of my neck tingling as lines of purple energy crackled over his sword. No matter how much the kid said that his magic wasn’t the bad stuff, it still felt weird to see a pegasus slinging spells. Not to mention his family full of necromancers and warlocks wanted him learning this death magic. Made it hard to buy that the stuff was as nice and harmless as he claimed.

Still, long as it helped us in a fight, I wouldn’t complain too much. Magic that helps me and mine can’t be all bad. “Just remember why we're here. Take down the threats before you start playing the heroic liberator.”

“I’ll keep my priorities straight,” Torch agreed. “I won’t save anyone if I get shot in the back because we didn’t clear all the towers. Speaking of which, I’ll take the southern tower.”

I scowled and shook my head. “Nobody’s taking on one of those towers solo, don’t care how good you are. Too many things can go wrong with one guy operating solo. Maybe you miss the opening shot, or find out there’s an extra guard who’s there to play cards or dice to help pass the shift, you get the idea.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s only prudent,” Torch agreed. “Temping as it is to say I can handle the tower on my own, I know you would never let me live it down if I turned out to be wrong. Very well then, who wants to come with me?”

I snorted. “Between your heroic urges and you being the client, you think I’d trust anyone other than myself or Talon to keep an eye on you? Talon’s hanging back to shoot, so that narrows it down, doesn’t it?”

Torch smiled. “Why captain, I can’t imagine anyone else I’d rather fight side-by-side with.”

“Except someone female and prettier,” I grunted out. “Or someone younger and faster. Or someone who can do magic like you.” I held up a hoof. “And don’t you try to sweet talk me saying I’ve got experience or something. That’ll just make me think you’re up to something.”

Torch shrugged. “If it would make you feel better, I can be as surly as possible about it. They do say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

I scowled. “It’s getting harder and harder to remember why I’m even letting you come along instead of parking your rear on the ship and placing you under guard. Got half a mind to do it despite how useful your magic’ll be, except I know you’d kick up a fuss and make it too much trouble to keep you locked up.”

“I believe you forgot to mention that the problem with my generation is that we don’t respect our elders,” Torch shot back with a wry grin. “Oh, and don’t forget the music we listen to and the clothes we wear.”

“I was building up to it,” I grunted. “A good speech needs a bit to get momentum.”

Torch’s grin widened. “Much as I would love to hear the rest of your inspirational words, perhaps we should focus on the mission? I do recall being told several times that I need to keep my priorities straight?”

“Fine.” Guess I was in a better mood than usual. After all, I was joking around with Torch. I turned to the rest of the troops. “You all know what to do; not gonna waste your time saying it again. We do the job, we get the payday, and maybe we even get to act like heroes for once. Just don’t expect me to give any of my share to charity.” That got a couple grim chuckles out of them. “Alright, let’s get it done.”

I took off with the rest of the advance force. The other six split off with us before long, since they had to hit towers on the other end of the island. Since they were only bothering to keep four towers staffed, they put ‘em as far away as possible to at least theoretically cover the whole island. Some ducat-pincher probably figured there was no need to keep the other towers manned when their fields of view overlapped. Nevermind that overlapping fields of view was the way they were supposed to work. Now they were so scattered the guards in the tower probably wouldn’t notice anything going on in any of the others unless they were on fire. The towers, not the guards. Guards who’re on fire don’t notice much beyond the fact that they’re on fire.

Torch pulled up alongside me as we closed in. “So the plan is to just blitz the tower?”

I nodded. “Hit them hard and fast. If we do it right and have a little luck, they’ll both be down before they even realize what’s going on.”

“Fast, aggressive, and no-nonsense. Sounds like your kind of plan.” Torch grinned. “Do you go in first, or me?”

“It’s my idea, might as well kick it off myself.” I swooped down towards the tower, almost pitying the poor bastards as I began my attack run. They were just sitting around, maintaining a perfunctory watch while mostly just waiting for their shift to end. One was keeping an eye on the slave barracks further in, while the other had his nose buried in a book. He at least looked out of the tower every once in a while, but the lamp he was using for reading ruined his night eyes. Probably those of his partner too. Guess neither of them cared about that, though. Probably just two guys bored stiff because nothing ever happened.

I went for the guy who was actually at least trying to keep a watch up, even though he was looking the wrong way to see me coming. The first clue he had that anything was wrong was my axe slamming into his helmet. Either my aim had been a bit off or his helmet was better than I expected, but either way the guy went down with just a dent in the helmet instead of my axe buried in his brains. He still went down hard, and didn’t seem like he’d be getting back up anytime soon.

The second guard looked up from his book, then dropped it in shock. “What the—” Before he could finish that thought Chainbreaker sliced into his shoulder, and there was a bright flash of the purple light that always seemed to part of Torch’s magic.

The guard dropped like a stone, despite the fact that the wound didn’t look all that bad. His limbs twitched feebly, like he was trying to get back up but couldn’t figure out how to do it. From the looks of things, whatever spell Torch used on him worked pretty similar to the one he’d used to drop me and my company a couple weeks back. Seeing that spell from the other side of things was ... not sure if I liked that.

Torch swatted their weapons aside, while I quickly bound and gagged both of them. I had no idea if the guy I’d brained was gonna wake back up or not. It was hard to tell when you smacked someone’s head that hard. Could’ve just finished him off then and there, but Torch didn’t seem to be in any hurry to open up the throat of the guy he’d downed. Might as well let him put these two through the little slave trial Torch had planned. Maybe these two’d actually been halfway decent and they’d get a pardon, and even if the slaves wanted them dead, at least they’d get a chance to do the deed themselves. Either way, these guys were mercs.

One of those unwritten rules of professional courtesy with mercs: we try not to kill each other when we can avoid. It’s one I liked to follow as much as possible, if only because it upped my odds of survival if I was ever on a contract that went bad. Made the trial Torch was planning not quite sit right, even if it meant that the blood technically wasn’t on my hooves. Even if the mercs we were basically executing were bastards who had it coming ... well, there were probably guys who thought that way about me.

Still, there was a job to do. The guard barracks wasn’t too hard to spot. I just went for the barracks building that didn’t have have bars over the doors and windows. Everything else was either an obvious farm building, or the big fancy mansion they’d probably built for whenever their boss decided to come visit. I was a bit surprised they didn’t have anyone working through the night in the sugar refinery, but I guess none of the overseers wanted to pull a night shift. Certainly wouldn’t be on account of night work being dangerous.

Torch nodded, his eyes flicking to the other guard towers to make sure we didn’t have any other trouble incoming. “Most of the guards will be asleep, or else drinking and playing games. Though if past experience is anything to go by, there might be one or two in the slave quarters.” He pointed over at the walled compound and the grubby collection of crude huts surrounding it. “Now we just need to—”

He went quiet when one of lamps in the guardhouse kindled. We could see shadows moving around through one of the windows, and judging by how fast they were moving around and how many there were it wasn’t just some half awake guy stumbling to the chamberpot. “They’re onto us, get ‘em!” I rushed in.

Torch followed fast on my heels, only a step behind on account of putting some more magic into his sword. I took a position outside the front door, just a bit to the side. Tempting as it would be to go charging all the way in, that was a good way to get myself killed. I’d be going from darkness to a well-lit building, and that half-second of vulnerability while my eyes adjusted was more than enough time to get me killed.

Of course, the same applied in reverse for any guards stumbling out into the night. The first guard to exit the barracks didn’t know I was there until I put my axe into the back of his neck. Not that he knew much of anything after I did it.

The one downside of a good ambush like that, I could only pull it off once. None of the other guards inside could’ve missed their buddy getting his head cut most of the way off. On the other hoof, since they all knew I was out there and waiting, nobody seemed to be in a hurry to be the next one out the door.

After a good half minute of nothing, Torch grimaced. “Careful, it’s about to get messier. They’ve got a—”

Whatever he was about to say next wound up being a moot point as the door opened up and more came out. I took a swing and buried my axe into the first one’s head, but more kept coming. I got a good look at them a second later, and confirmed my suspicions. Zombies. Made sense to send out the disposable chaff to flush us out.

Their plan worked. Torch and I had to move away from the building or we’d got mobbed. I was doing alright at dropping them with chops to the head or chest, and each one Torch hit after charging up his sword went down like a puppet with its strings cut. Problem was, there were enough of them to make it hard for us to keep up.

Eventually the necromancer came out too, probably to keep an eye on his minions. That made them get a bit smarter, using their numbers to start properly flanking us.

Torch and I went back-to-back so they couldn’t get around behind us. I took a swing at another zombie’s head, but the extra smarts the necro was giving them went to more than just pack tactics. The one I was aiming for ducked its head, and before I could adjust for a followup, one of his buddies menaced my right flank and I had to go back to defense. The rest of the zombies kept moving in, slowly tightening the noose before the final rush. Meanwhile, the necro was hanging back and gathering some nasty kind of red-black energy around one of his hooves.

Wasn’t hard to guess his plan. Either we’d get mobbed by the zombies when they did their final rush, or if we tried to fly away he’d have a clear shot at us with whatever spell he was holding onto. No idea what it was, and I didn’t want to find out by letting him hit me with it.

Staying on defense would get us mobbed, and running would get us hit with magic. Left us with only one plan: attack. Torch and I charged the ring of encircling zombies, aiming to break out towards the necro. It worked, and he didn’t react fast enough to stop me from planting my axe into a zombie head. After that, I stopped aiming my shots as carefully. Hitting them in the head was a lot harder than taking out a leg, and crippling them was still pretty good. Zombies aren’t smart enough to figure out how to compensate for a leg that doesn’t work anymore. At least, not without fresh instructions from their necro.

Not that they would get a chance. Torch was following hot on my heels, using sword and magic to finish off the ones I’d dropped. Once we were really in the thick of it, he gave up on using magic to charge up his sword, instead just clobbering them with a hoof wreathed in rippling purple magic. Punching them with magic seemed to work just as well for dropping the zombies, and even without magic, his sword could still take off their heads just fine.

After what felt like hours but probably wasn’t even a minute, I chopped into a zombie and wrenched it out of my way for Torch to finish off, only for there to be none left to take his place. There were plenty of them behind us, but that didn’t matter when we had a straight shot for the necromancer. If he went down, it wouldn’t matter how many zombies there were.

I smirked right before I charged in. “Hope that’s not all you got!”

The necro took the bait, raising his hoof and firing off those blasts of dark magic. I saw it coming from a mile away, and I had plenty of time to dive for cover. It made my joints groan in protest, but that was a lot better than letting the spell hit me. Torch deflected one of the energy bolts with his sword, while the other two hit the necromancer’s own zombies. The two slowly crumbled into dust, making me a lot happier I hadn’t been on the receiving end of that spell.

The necromancer immediately started working on getting more of those blasts to send out at me. No way I was going to let him get away with that. I wasn’t sure I could charge in and put my axe into him in time, but that’s why I like having options. Like pulling out one of my backup daggers and chucking it at him.

The warlock staggered back, staring down at the dagger hilt and blinking disbelievingly. “How did ... that’s not supposed to—”

Before he could finish that thought Torch swooped in and sliced his throat open so deep I could swear I saw the back of his spine. The zombies all went still, and a lot of them dropped flat on their faces. Just to be safe, I planted my axe into his brain. With necromancers, it never hurt to make sure they were down for good. Even the undead couldn’t keep up and running without a brain. Well, unless you counted liches, and if one of those was here, we were running.

I still took one more swing, just to fully sever the necro’s head. Better safe than sorry. Last thing I needed was him coming back. From the looks of things, Torch was quickly making sure none of the disabled zombies would get back up either. Smart, considering there were other necros left on the island.

No sooner had I thought that than a second necromancer came charging out of the barracks, her own horde of zombies fanning out behind her. As soon as she spoke, I knew we were dealing with a drama queen. “Who dares attack the domains of the Great Lord Deathspair?! Your suffering shall be legendary once I, the Great and Terrible Deathplague Skullmaster, strike you down with my imp—”

We never did learn what she was going to strike us down with, because right about then a crossbow bolt smacked into the back of her head, coming out of her mouth like some sort of ridiculous tongue. I glanced up just in time to catch Talon smirking and waving to us before she shifted to a new position.

I snapped off a quick salute with my weapon as she left. “Nice of her to save us the trouble, even if she’ll probably bring it up next time she wants something out of me.”

Torch shrugged. “She’d be sad if we didn't let her get her share of glory.”

“There will be no glory for you here, bandits! Only death!” A new necromancer strode out of the shadows. He made sure to keep the building between himself and the direction Talon’s last shot had come from. More worrying, the pair of zombies he’d brought with him were wearing armor, and carrying a spear and shield. Zombies generally didn’t have the brains to use tools without a really good necromancer controlling them, let alone a weapon combo like a spear and shield. Not that they were the most complicated weapons in the world, but using them took a lot more brainpower than you could get out of a normal zombie. Which meant this guy was probably the head honcho.

I grunted and hefted my axe. “There’s our sonofabitch. Was worried he’d run off while we killed off the minions. Well, let’s show him he made some horrible life choices.”

The Boss necromancer smirked at us. “How very bold of you. Who has come here to die?” Talon must have shifted enough to get a clean shot at him, because a crossbow bolt skipped off a magical shield. He spared a bored, contemptuous glance for her. “You’ll have to do a lot better than that. But where are my manners? You may call me Lord Shadowsoul.”

“I may, but I don’t think I will,” I scoffed.

Torch seemed a bit more willing to play his game, judging by how he stepped up and saluted with his sword. “Torch Charger, bane of tyrants and breaker of chains.” Guess the kid had a bit of a flair for the dramatic himself.

Shadowsoul grinned. “Ah, the famous last of the Chargers. My master will reward me with riches beyond measure if I bring him your head.”

“Don’t start counting your ducats just yet.” I started closing in on him, only for one of the zombies to place itself squarely in my path. I took a swing at it, but it caught my axe on its shield with more skill than I’d seen out of most living soldiers. Even had the sense to angle the shield so my attack just skipped off it rather than biting it. Thing about axes, they’re pretty good at busting through wood, and that included shields. A few straight shots with my axe would turn anything short of ironwood into kindling.

I tried pressing the attack, but the zombie was having none of it. Each swing got perfectly deflected by the shield, until one of them got knocked wide. The zombie then shield rushed me, and the impact set me staggering back. It didn’t do the zombie’s balance any favors either, but it recovered a bit faster than I did and thrust out with its short-spear. It was as much luck as skill that I managed to get my axe in place to deflect the blow before I got skewered.

I tried for a counter-attack, swinging low to try and take it’s ankles. The zombie angled it’s shield down to catch my blow, but that left it’s face vulnerable. I quick-drew another of my daggers to stab into the skull, but I didn’t quite get it into the eye-socket like I’d been aiming for. Anything living would’ve had all the fight taken out of ‘em by losing an eye and having half their face cut open, but the undead didn’t care about little things like pain.

I risked a quick look away to check on Torch. Always dangerous to take your eyes off your opponent in the middle of duel, but not keeping an eye on the rest of the battlefield could get you killed just as quick. Torch was giving ground and dodging while his zombie did its best to shish kabob him. I think the kid was trying to look a bit more vulnerable than he actually was, and encourage the zombie to overcommit to a strike. As soon as it did, he sliced out his sword, and it went through the wooden shaft of the spear like a hot knife through butter.

Shame my axe couldn’t pull that off. Enchanted heirloom weapons got to cheat a bit when it came to things like blade alignment and force transfer. If I swung for the spear shaft, I’d only do a little damage before the impact knocked my blade and the shaft off kilter and wasted the rest of the force. If I survived this with bits to spare, I’d have to see about finding some spellcaster to magic my axe up. ‘Course, soon as I got any of my gear fancied up I’d probably lose it. I’m just lucky that way.

Instead I had to do things the old-fashioned way. Since the zombie’s shield smack had done such a good job on me, I decided to return the favor by ducking my shoulder and plowing straight into it. I might not be quite as quick on my hooves as I was a couple decades ago, but if anything I’d only gotten heavier. Meanwhile, your average zombie lost plenty of weight on account of rotting away. Dark magic could give them plenty of muscle, but not many necros bothered with adding on extra mass.

Despite planting its legs pretty firmly, the zombie couldn’t stop me from bowling it over. I stayed right on top of it, too close for it to do anything with its spear or really build up for a proper shield bash. I couldn’t really get much use out of my axe either, but we were more than close enough for a bit of knife fighting. Not that my old standbys of slicing the throat or stabbing in the gut would do much good, but I could still do plenty of raw damage or try to get it into the brain for a proper kill.

Or at least, that was the theory. Instead I felt something jump onto my back and punch me hard in the shoulder. I instinctively snapped my head around to look at the new attack, and nearly got stabbed in the face by one of Talon’s crossbow bolts. The one still sticking out of the mouth of the necro she’d shot a couple minutes back.

“Damnit! He’s raising more of them!” I got off of the big guy and hurled myself back-first towards the wall of the barracks house. We hit hard enough to make my bones ache, and I wasn’t the one being crushed against a hard surface. A second later another crossbow whizzed dangerously close to my head, slamming into the zombie and pinning it to the wall. I wasn’t sure if it was down for good or not, but as long as it wasn’t a problem for me anymore, I was happy.

Torch was having a rougher time of it. One of the newly-made zombies had jumped him as well, and he was a lot lighter than I was. Nobody’s slender and quick with a psychotic zombie hanging off their back, and it made it pretty hard for him to concentrate on any spells too. It was a good thing he’d taken the head off that first zombie’s spear, because it smacked him hard in the gut with the butt of its new staff.

My other opponent hadn’t quite gotten back up and ready yet, so I had a moment to spare. “Duck!” To his credit, Torch immediately went flat, letting me sweep my axe over his head. The zombie on his back went flying off after my axe caved in its chest. From the way it didn’t get back up, I must’ve done enough damage to it’s heart to put it down for good. Generally, fresh-made zombies went down pretty easy.

Too bad the real threats were the ones with lots of time and dark magic put into them. No sooner had I cleared the zombie off Torch’s back then I felt a speartip slam into my flank. I silently thanked the smith who’d made my chainmail a decade ago, because while I had a lot of busted rings, it held. Still, even with my gambeson for padding, I was going to have one heck of a bruise.

The necromancer smirked as the two of us fell back to catch our breath. “Having trouble?”

“Not as much as you’re going to have!” I snarled.

“We’ll see about that.” I saw him working on a spell and got ready to dodge. However, instead of trying to disintegrate us like the last necro had, this guy sent the magic straight into his minions. Considering how much trouble the souped up zombies had been giving us already, the last thing we needed was for them to get a boost. The one Torch had been fighting grew a set of long bony claws to make up for his lost spear, and when they closed in on us, they were both moving a lot faster than zombies had any right to.

I had to give ground, letting the zombie force me back with the superior reach of his weapon. I tried to get inside his range again, but with the new magical boost, I couldn’t get past his speartip. The one time I got close, all I got for my trouble was a shield bash that I barely managed to catch with my helmet instead of my face. It still rang my bells pretty good, but at least I wasn’t spitting out teeth.

Torch was having the opposite problem for me. His clawed opponent was all over him, and he couldn’t buy enough space to do much more than fend the zombie off and smack it with the pommel. That fancy sword could probably take the zombie apart if he got a proper hit in, but Torch couldn’t do that without enough space to swing. Talon tried to help him out with another crossbow bolt, but the zombie was moving too fast, and her shot went wide.

“Now would be a great time for a spell!” I shouted as I narrowly deflected another thrust.

“I have one that could work!” Torch shot back. “But I’ll need a few seconds to concentrate.”

“I’ll give it a shot!” I leapt at the clawed zombie like a madpony, completely ignoring the threat in front of me. I took another spear hit for that, but it wasn’t a straight enough hit to get through my armor. The claw zombie got knocked over, and I left behind another one of my daggers as I rolled clear. I’d only managed a leg hit, but hopefully the muscle damage would at least slow it down a little bit. Once I was back on my hooves, I started swinging my axe in broad sweeps, denying as much area as I could. Torch put the time to good use, closing his eyes and concentrating on whatever he was up to.

That’s when the necro made a fatal mistake. If he’d sent both of the zombies at me, one of them would’ve gotten a real hit in. If he’d sent both after Torch, one of them would’ve gotten past me. Instead, he got greedy and tried to kill both of us at once. Claw zombie leapt at me, and thanks to the damaged leg, was just a hair slower at it than he needed to be. My axe was swinging a bit too wildly to land a proper hit on it, but I did send the undead monster staggering. Right into the path of his spear-wielding buddy who was trying to flank around and get a shot at Torch. It only tied them up for a second or two, but that was enough.

I felt Torch slap me on the back, and before I could ask what the hay he’d done to me, I felt the spell hit.

I felt ... best way to put it would be that I felt young again. Not just that I wasn’t old and sore, the mind too. Like I was the cocky little shit I’d been twenty years ago, back when I’d just started out as a merc and convinced I was immortal and the greatest warrior the world had ever seen.

I almost wanted to stop and ask Torch what in Tartarus he had just done to me, but the middle of a fight really wasn’t the time for that. Kill the bad guys first, worry about the rest of it later. The claw zombie jumped at me again, but this time I was a lot quicker on my hooves. I slipped to the side and let it overextend itself trying to pounce on me, then turned that dodge into a slick little turn that added a bit more momentum to my next swing. As I saw the axe coming down, I realized the blade was glowing kinda purple, just like Torch’s sword did when when he had it charged up with a spell.

This time my axe didn’t cut into the zombie, it cut through it. The two halves of the undead creature flopped down on the ground, both completely inert. Normally with a zombie this tough the top half would’ve kept moving, but I guess Torch’s magic saw to that.

The other zombie did the smart thing and fell back to guard its master. Whenever your opponent does something new and unexpected, play it safe. Not that I had any intention of letting them have their way. I had no idea how long this spell would last, so I intended to make the most of it before I wore out. I rushed the zombie before it could properly set itself, swinging my axe it a heavy overhand chop. The undead managed move its shield so the head of my axe overshot the target, probably hoping I’d snap the shaft on the steel rim of its shield. Too bad for him I was young and nimble again, so I managed to pull the attack it hit.

Then I hooked the rim of his shield with the underside of my axe, pulling forward. The zombie managed to keep hold of its shield, but it staggered forward half a step, off-balance. I snapped my axe forward, introducing the spike on my axe to its skull. The hole I punched into his head did enough brain damage to drop that zombie as well.

With both his minions gone, the boss necromancer wasn’t looking anywhere near as confident as he’d been a minute ago. He quickly conjured up a thick dome shield of rippling blood-red energy, just in time to intercept another one of Talon’s crossbow bolts.

No way I was going to let him just sit pretty inside a shield spell and catch his breath. Judging by the fact that he hadn’t thrown any attack spells out, this guy was obviously more of a minion master than a straight fighter. Give him some breathing room and he’d probably find some way to make more zombies to come after us.

I hammered my axe into the shield spell, trying to chop into it like a tree stump. The first shot bounced off the rounded surface of his dome, but when I squared up for a second one I got a proper hit in, the axe head sinking into the shield and letting my carve a wedge out of it. The necromancer immediately got to work trying to fix it, but I kept chopping away, trying to open up a hole. As soon as I had one, Talon put a crossbow bolt through it.

Much to my disappointment, one of her crossbow’s flights clipped the edge of the rapidly closing hole, and the bolt only managed to graze the necromancer’s leg. Not anywhere near enough damage to take him down. It did, however, make for a very good distraction.

Torch came in from behind, and Chainbreaker carved through that dome shield way better than my axe had. The necro barely spotted him in time, switching over to some earth magic to put a solid non-magical stone barrier between himself and Torch.

Too bad for the necromancer that keeping up one spell while casting another completely different one was hard to pull off. The shield holding me back stopped repairing itself, and my next couple chops tore huge holes into it. This time Talon’s shot flew true, burying itself into the necro’s chest. Judging by the bloody froth he coughed up, that was probably a killshot to the lung, but I didn’t see any reason to take a chance he might pull through. Not respecting the natural order of death was what necromancers did.

The next swing of my axe closed out that possibility when it took off half his head. Maybe he was a smart little necromancer normally, but nobody’s smart with their brains outside their head.

Torch still hit him with one last spell just to be sure. “He was a tough one, but that did the job.”

“Good.” I took a look around the battlefield, and it looked like there wasn’t anyone else left with any fight in them. The guards we hadn’t killed were either tied up like the two tower guards we’d taken out early on, or were tossing down weapons and holding up their hooves. I took a few breaths, letting the adrenaline run down. “Right, looks like we've won this one. All that’s left now is collecting the spoils.” I grimaced. “And taking care of any ugly leftover business.”

Talon flapped over to join us now that there wasn’t anyone left to shoot. “Plenty of cleanup to be done.” She nodded over at the barracks. A few of the bolder slaves were already starting to poke their heads out, trying to find out what happened now that the noise had stopped.

Torch made a beeline for them, and while he was a bit too far away to make out what he was saying, it wasn’t hard to guess from how he’d put up his sword and was generally trying to seem as nice and non-threatening as possible. “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt you.”

Back when Torch brought up freeing the slaves, I figured we’d probably get swept up in some kind of big crazy celebration as they all went nuts once we told them the good news. Instead, they just kind of stood there numbly, barely even reacting as Torch went down the line with his sword and fulfilled the blade’s name in the most literal manner imaginable.

Maybe none of them were saying or doing anything on account of being confused and half awake. This was the middle of the night, and most slaves were probably desperate for every scrap of sleep they could get. I didn’t think that was it, though. Some of them ... they reminded me of the really old soldiers at the clanhold. The ones who’d been on the sort of nasty jobs where if you asked about ‘em they’d tell you to shut up, then get nasty drunk and spend a week staring off into the distance like they weren’t even there anymore. Small surprise, considering what they’d been through. Lot of them looked barely more alive than the zombies we’d put down.

Maybe I wasn’t surprised by how horrible it all looked, but that didn’t mean I was okay with it. They say you can get used to anything, but I damn sure never wanted to be someone who could look at something like this and not be disgusted. “I’ve seen animals treated better than them.” When one of the children shrank closer to her mother, I could see her back already had whip scars.

Talon looked them over and grimaced. “See how so many of them are missing a leg or wing? I heard that in the sugar mills they’ve got a guard on standby with a machete to cut off any limb that gets caught in the equipment before it pulls them all the way in. After all, that might damage the machines.” She stared a bit longer, watching as Torch freed the last of the crippled slaves and moved on to the few children who’d been born in chains. “Makes you realize what the Council’s fighting for, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” I turned away from the slaves to keep an eye on prisoners we’d taken. “Careful about getting your head in the clouds, Talon. Just ‘cause the Council’s got a nice-looking cause doesn’t mean they’re going to win. Don’t forget we came here to steal sugar for a big payday, not to play at being heroes.”

“There a reason we can’t do both?” Talon shot back archly.

“Not today,” I conceded with a grunt. “But tomorrow? Who knows.”

I had a feeling things were about to get a bit heroic. Torch was bringing a group of newly freed slaves over to have a look at the guards we’d captured. Several of the slaves had their eyes on the weapons, and were starting to look quite a bit more lively as they realized how badly the tables had turned. The guards seemed to have some idea of what might be coming because one of them dropped to his knees and started begging. “Wait! Please! I was always—ask any of the slaves, they’ll say I was always nice to them!”

Torch seemingly ignored him, turning to the slaves. “Let's make a trial of it.” He waved at the collection of discarded blades. “We’ll decide their fates one at a time. Starting with our volunteer. What do you think? Was he kind, and does he deserve mercy?”

Talon and I sat back and watched as a couple of the slave mares grabbed knives and went to town on the supposedly nice guy. Guess he wasn’t so nice after all. Probably the kind of guy who figured tossing a moldy crust of bread to the slaves instead of in the garbage counted as charity. Still, this was basically mob justice. “Think we already stopped being heroes.”

Talon watched dispassionately as they finished off the first guard and moved on down the line. “It’s not exactly nice, but I can’t say these guys don't deserve it. At least they’re keeping the executions clean.”

She had a point. I’d heard some nasty rumors about how plantations punished any slaves who fought back or tried to escape. They got creatively sadistic. Guess they had to be. After all, plain old beatings and murder hadn’t been enough to stop the slaves from fighting back. Compared to hotboxes, flayings, and all the other twisted shit slavers got up to, getting cut to bits with their own weapons was downright tame.

I grunted. “You don't see me raising a hoof to save them, do you? Still, not in the mood to watch this, and we’ve got work to do. I’ll have the men start gathering up the sugar, and anything else worth stealing. You and a couple guards work with Torch to keep this show-trial going, and once that’s done, make sure the ex-slaves don’t start setting everything on fire. At least not until we’re done looting the place and ready to leave. Got no objections to burning the place down to help cover our tracks and give them some payback, but I’d like to be long gone before anyone notices the bonfire and comes for a look.”

Talon nodded. “Of course. Might be a good idea to have the troops see what we can find for the slaves, too. Sure there’ll be a food stockpile and other supplies, and I saw a few light boats for runs to the city and the other islands. Might as well point them towards anything that can help while we loot the place.”

“No reason not to,” I grunted. “Once things settle, I’ll see if Torch can talk them into helping us with loading everything up. This’ll go a lot faster if we can get the ex-slaves to help us along. They’ll know where stuff is, and how to use any equipment we might need. Hopefully seeing us butcher their tormentors put us on their good side. Plus they get to keep whatever we don’t take. Long as we get our share, they’re welcome to loot enough of their old master’s stuff to set themselves up wherever they want.”

“I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.” She took a deep breath, then nodded to herself. “Feels a lot better to be freeing them than it did to escort a ship full of them, doesn’t it?”

I snorted. “Just to be nice for once, I’ll agree with you. Probably the best thing I’ve done in a long time. Let’s just hope this doesn't get us all killed. Doing a good deed is nice, and getting enough money to be back in the black is even nicer, but we’ve crossed a line. Hard to say for sure what that’ll end up meaning for us.”

Author's Notes:

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