Chương 25: The Black Band

The clerk looked at Dast. Then at Corso. Then at me. Somewhere behind us, a chair scraped across the floor. At some point the clerk had begun shaking her head in disbelief.

"This is highly irregular," she said eventually, picking up one of her pens and putting it back down. She looked down at the pen, then aligned it with the other pens again. She looked back up at us.

"I do not understand."

"How so?" Dast asked. She ignored him, instead pointing to Corso.

"You are an adventurer?" Then she shifted, aiming her finger at me.

"And you?"

"Yes. We both are," Corso said. I glanced to my side and took in the tension in his squared shoulders. Anyone who did not know the man as well as I did would hear strong confidence in his voice. The clerk kept staring, taking in our general appearance, and her attention travelled down to my belt. That is right, I thought. No sword. Then she looked down at our boots, then back at our faces. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it and breathed in.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then she gestured with her arm, taking in the room.

"These are adventurers. They have classes and equipment. They are trained."

"Ma'am," he said. His voice was soft, but insistent.

"We know. We know it is dangerous. We know what we look like." She opened her eyes and shook her head again, once.

"I do not think you do. But it does not matter, as long as you understand enough to say that you understand. I cannot stop you." Her lips drew into a straight line, and she opened a drawer in her desk, taking out a sheet of paper.

"Here," she said, extending it to Dast.

"Fill this in. Formation fee is six florins when you are done with it." Dast looked down at the form and nodded.

"Give us a moment, ma'am." Corso and I exchanged a look, and Corso whispered to Dast, "We don't have that."

"A company expense," Dast answered in a calm voice.

"I will enter it in the ledger."

"We have a ledger?" Corso asked.

"We do now." Gesturing with his head, Dast led us to one of the nearby tables and motioned for us to sit down.

"Right. Let us start at the top. Company name?" he asked, looking at Corso, then at me. Then back at Corso, where he left his eyes.

"What do you think?" I asked Corso.

"We need something… inspiring. All the great companies have awesome names. Something that inspires fear and awe. Something people will remember. A name that will carry from tavern to tavern!"

"So…" I looked around the room. Four people around a nearby table had ceased their conversation and were looking at us. I looked back at Corso.

"The Intrepids?"

"Intrep… what does that even mean? No! People need to at least know what it means."

"Expeditionary Force?" I suggested.

"Too generic," he dismissed.

"And probably already taken. Sounds like something military, travelling around in a stolen vessel. It needs to be something like… The Lions of Varenza, or Relic Hunters of the Golden Hide." Two men at the neighbouring table were sniggering and not trying to hide it. I looked pointedly at them to no effect.

"Let's… decide later," I said, refocusing.

"Dast, next question."

"Members and roles."

"Must we add roles?" I asked.

"Well, no. But it's customary."

"Corso, porter!" Corso said, grinning.

"We can work out the details later."

"Marek Vale," I said.

"Let's write down investigator." Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Dast wrote it down, then added a third line.

"Auxiliary, Verin Dast, advocate." By now, amusement was audible from several of the nearby tables. The clerk looked at us from behind her counter and shook her head slightly again as I met her eyes. As if to say: this is a very bad idea. My eyes travelled back out to the rest of the room, and I found everyone's attention was on us. One man in particular had taken the lead. He was laughing too loudly, and now he leaned forward as he spoke.

"And what will you be doing?" He gestured to Corso.

"Head north to hunt monsters, or perhaps explore the new dungeons outside Montevetrano? Or… Let me guess. Hunt for the nearest pork pie?" The speaker occupied the centre of a company at one of the long tables, not far away. He was young, perhaps twenty-five, and I knew just by looking at him that if he had not yet commissioned a statue of his own likeness it was only a matter of time. His fitted travelling coat was gold-trimmed red, and the sword at his hip spoke of both craftsmanship and frequent use.

"Master Ferroli, what a lovely surprise," our advocate said.

"How surprising to see you here, and out in public." Dast winced theatrically as he continued.

"You have my sympathies for your family's recent misadventures in the Signoria. Who could have guessed that the Cevennes would turn coat and ally with the Torvaldi? How embarrassing for the Ferroli, after the… valiant stand your men made when faced with the Corcyran pirates last month. Really, what bravery it is to jump screaming into the ocean while wearing full armour. They sank well!

If you ask me, it is a shame that the Ferroli condottieri lost that contract and will no longer safeguard the merchant ships bound for Kreta." The Ferroli man's laughter had died down suddenly, and now his lips were drawn in a tight line, and his right arm had moved to the pommel of his sword. He was about to step forward when the woman next to him rose and held him back by his arm. She smiled and whispered something into his ear, letting her hand linger on his forearm, fingers trailing down towards his hand.

Then she looked at me with an expression that I could not read as she approached. Slowly, she stepped up next to me, altogether too close for our lack of familiarity.

"Marek Vale," she said. Her voice surprised me with how low and deep it was. The woman was slight, a full head shorter than me, and even though her cream and yellow robes hid her figure, I could see there was not much to it. Long hair so dark it was more purple than black fell down her back, where I could see multiple wands and artefacts held by her belt. I was sure I had met her before, but I would have remembered, surely. She is beautiful.

The woman circled me, taking me in quietly, before returning to the front, where she stopped only a foot away and tilted her head up to look at me.

"Misericordia, am I not right?" I looked down and nodded.

"Thought so. I recognise you. I brought you Vittori last year," she said, then paused, and I could see pain in her eyes.

"Gut wound from a corrupted boar. You…" She hesitated.

"You cared for him, I remember. You did not know him, and you cared." She reached out and touched my hand for the briefest of moments before letting hers fall back. Behind her, Leandro Ferroli stirred, his eyes observing us angrily. But he did not step in, which told me more about this woman than words could have. I remembered her then, but mostly her friend.

Vittori Salvi had gone out with an ochre tag, and this woman, Sara Torvaldi, had sat through the full processing, telling me about him, sharing stories about his life and background, their adventures together.

"He had been through enough," I said quietly, and she closed her eyes in acknowledgment. We both fell quiet for several heartbeats, but the silence was broken rudely by Master Ferroli.

"The Misericordia?" The man gestured to the woman.

"Is that right? So, Sara, when he said investigator —" One of his table-companions finished the thought.

"The quaesitor! That means he cleans up corpses, checks their wounds!" That brought on another round of laughs from the group of adventurers, but Miss Torvaldi instead stepped back, as if slapped. She was not laughing, and the expression on her face made me want to step after her. She must have seen something in my eyes, and she gave her head a short, discreet shake from side to side, then turned. Master Ferroli reached out to grab her, but she shrugged him off without comment and walked away.

I saw even more anger harden on Master Ferroli's face as we both watched Sara Torvaldi leave the hall, and then he twisted that anger back into laughter and pointed at Corso.

"Tell me, are you also from the Misericordia? What do you do there?" Something had tensed in Corso's shoulders, and he shifted, but before he could answer, the Ferroli man continued.

"No, don't tell me! You just said you are the porter! So if by some miracle you survive, you can carry your dead companion back to the Misericordia!" I looked over at Corso, who had gone red with anger and embarrassment. I remembered his excitement at stepping into this hall, his enthusiasm for what adventuring and adventurers had meant to him. I was working to control my temper when Master Ferroli's companion continued.

"Hey, Misericordia porter, you should bring a black cloth strip on your first expedition. For efficiency, you can even wrap your ankles now, before you leave!" He was nearly shouting now, crudely miming tying a strip of cloth. In case it was unclear what he meant, he added, "Saves everyone time, and puts you where you belong!" I heard Corso's chair shifting, and I reached out and placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Wait," I said through clenched teeth.

"Not worth it. Not now." We needed to finish what we came for. There was a treasure waiting for us, and these men and women were not important. Still holding Corso's shoulder, I spoke in a low voice. It still carried through the hall, but I did not care.

"Let's finish this and get out of here," I said.

"Company name?" I sensed Corso's muscles relaxing through my grip as he answered softly.

"I know," he said and looked first at Dast and then at me. He reached out for the form and held his hand out to Dast, who gave him the pen. He wrote on the form. THE BLACK BAND.