Fighting the Cold

[Xen]

Closed.

“Have you heard, have you heard?” The little boy shouted to Xen as he ran down the street, his bare feet slapping the cobblestone loudly. Spying Xen’s bow slung across his back, the lad stopped with his chest heaving. “Which side are you on?”

“Side?” Xen answered in confusion, looking left and then right across the two way street. “I am on the right side, and traveling in the correct direction.” Xen responded rather proudly. Humans strangely associated a direction of travel with an orientation in street location, but the ice elemental felt confident he was in the right this time.

“The street? No. Are you for the church,” the youngling suddenly eyed Xen suspiciously and tensed as though preparing to flee, “or for the king?”

Xen thought about this for a moment before realizing he wasn’t really inclined one way or the other. “I don’t know…which side is going to win? I am on that side.”

The boy stared in stunned puzzlement before spluttering out a reply. “What! You can’t be on the winning side! This is a war and you need to pick a side. Then you need to make them win, you can’t just say you’re on the winning side. That’s not how it works.”

Xen cocked his head to the side, thought the kid’s retort and then responded. “Sure it is. I’ll even explain it to you. When two sides are at war, the winning side kills the losing side. I don’t want to be killed, but maybe that’s just me. If the church is winning, then I’ll support the church. If the king is winning, I’m his man. What I won’t be is a dead man, no sir. That’s how it works, you got to look out for yourself first. Besides, it’s a well known fact that winners have a lot of gold.”

Throughout Xen’s speech the kid’s face turned beet red and he puffed up his chest and everything about him said he wanted to interrupt. “How can you think about gold? This is about ideals; the corrupt king’s rule must end. Don’t you care that he’s an usurper and corrupt to the core?”

Xen may have been new to the world, but he wasn’t born yesterday. “Don’t kid yourself, uh, kid. It’s always about the gold. Maybe a lesson you haven’t learned yet, judging by your clothes, but you will. Or you’ll die. Either one. They might say that it’s because the king is corrupt, but I’ll bet he’s got a hoard of gold somewhere, that or he’s after the churches gold and they want help defending it. Well, I’m getting kind of bored here,” Xen paused briefly in his tirade to perform an obnoxiously huge yawn, “so you should run along.”

As the ice elemental walked towards what could only be a tavern with such a sign, the boy sighed heavily and moved on down the street looking for others to shout at. Beneath the awning but still outside the bar, Xen found himself blocked by a straggly looking fellow with a long scar down his cheek.

“Mind if I buy you a drink?” The fellow offered. Always up for anything free, Xen accepted and followed the man into the bar. Inside the bar Xen managed to direct the man to seats farthest from the hearth.

With a fresh mug of ale in hand, Xen listened attentively as the man spoke. “I heard what you were saying to the kid out on the street. Filthy street urchin shouldn’t be spreading lies about the king like that, but that’s not the point. Some sound advice you gave him, but unlikely he’ll heed it. I can tell you are a man that’s got his priorities straight, and Rahaxea values good men.”

Tipping the glass back and ignoring the foamy trails traveling down his chin, Xen chugged the last of his ale and cut the man off. “I’m sorry, you lost me there. Who’s Rahaxea?”

Choking on his beverage, the scarred man slammed his mug into the table and squinted fiercely at his companion. Responding as he ran a hand across his bald pate, “If that’s a joke, you best keep it to yourself from now on. Rahaxea is the king, and he’s taking down the church one way or another. You’re right about the king’s treasury, and maybe that is what the church is after, but he doesn’t hold back when it comes to rewarding his successful followers and that’s what counts.”

“So you’re trying to recruit me? I’m not a merc, and I’m not dying for anyone.” Xen started to rise from the creaky stool, but the loyalist caught his arm and held fast. He gestured to table of well armed men, all dressed in at least partial armor. Their shoulders were at least twice as wide as Xen’s and their arms were like tree-trunks. They were drinking and gambling heavily, coins rolling from pocket to e pocket with every roll of dice.

Leaning in, the old soldier dropped his voice to a whisper. “You see that table over there, the guys in the armor? They’re good muscle, real brutes, but they ain’t bright. That one with the pointed helmet, you see him? He’s won the last two dice rolls but can’t count the pips, so the others say he lost and he believes them. You seem to have your head on right, you know how things work. They’d be under your command. They do the fighting, you stay back and use that bow of yours, shout some orders. Maybe they die, maybe they don’t, but you get paid regardless. Also, what do you think is going to happen to all that stuff inside the church? There’s a big market for the magical items and religious artifacts they keep in there, a lot of money to be made.”

“Alright, I get it. I can make a lot of gold. If you win. If you lose, I gain nothing.”

“True. But we won’t fail. What is it going to take to convince you?”

“Pay me in advance. A portion now, the rest later. And anything I loot I keep, and separately from payment.”

“Heh, I see you’ve worked for a merchant before. Okay, I can accept that deal. Now, I’ve got a few places for you…”