In Defence of the Realm - Four Mercenaries (part 2)

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'I apologise for any damage I have caused, Mr Krota,' Dastardly said. He didn't feel as if he had hit the ground. Perhaps something had cushioned his fall. 'Or if I hurt anyone.'

'Damage? Great billiards, boy,' the man laughed, and to the freelancer this was an unsettling sight. 'It is unfortunate that you did not completely kill Bei. He is hard to get rid of.'

A nasal voice rang out through the camp. From the other standing tent a very short man – Dastardly did a double take, a person with a rat's head – emerged. It favoured a leg slightly and had tissues stuffed up its long snout.

'I heard that, leader man,' said the thing.

'I take it that you have never seen a kobom,' said Krotar. 'Let me properly introduce our little operation here.' He stood up for dramatic effect. 'You have already met the brawn and the *ahem*.' Krotar pointed to the lion man and Renda. 'I am the brains, and my name is Crow-Tar, which means “like two kinds of black” in the hill tongue where we come from.'

'An' me,' said the kobom with a self-satisfied grin. 'We met at high speed.'

'Bei's people are very adept with clockwork technology,' Krotar continued.

'I thought that the gnomes –'

'Pff! Amateurs,' Bei said.

Renda sat down between them. 'When Muscles knocked you out we had to pry Bei from your sword.'

'Amateur work but interesting nonetheless.'

'So what are you all doing here in the plains?' said Dastardly.

Krotar grinned amiably. 'None of your business.'

'Alright then,' the freelancer got to his feet. 'I will leave you to it, for I am in a hurry.'

As he turned to leave the circle of light, he felt a sharp point in the small of his back.

'Not so fast,' Krotar said.

'Huh?'

'I wanted to be friendly. You do owe me, and I am sure you accept the simplicity of “stick around or I'll stick this through you.”'

Dastardly swivelled on the spot.

'Hi, how are you,' he said. 'I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Dastardly Medieval and I am on an urgent mission from the Land-Regent.'

'Excellent!' Krotar looked at the others around the fire, whilst maintaining the disconcerting grin. 'We have something in common.'

'Excellent,' Dastardly echoed. 'Can I please leave?'

The leader man sat back on the ground. The freelancer didn't wait to be asked to join him.

'Well,' Krotar said brightly. 'We are humble mercenaries on a job for your Regent.'

'Pardon me, but did we not just go through this? You said it was none of my business.'

'Shut up,' said Renda.

'You will help us,' said Krotar. 'We were a little quick to jump at the listing by the aforementioned regent, as we all hail from a land far away.'

'What he means is we don't know our directions,' said Bei. Renda shot him a dangerous look.

'We are searching for a spy in these lands. Wherever you must be headed to, his base of operations cannot be too far off your path.'

'Who would want to spy around here?' said the freelancer. 'There's just miles of flat grass.'

'Rule #2 in the Merc Charter. Ours is to do and get paid, not to enquire. Besides, I don't care. My point is this: in your special boots, you could be out to the Sponge Country before we have even packed up camp. All we ask is that you report to us what you have found, and your debt will be paid.'

'You are very generous,' Dastardly said. And a total psycho, he thought.

'Don't forget your other effects.' Krotar motioned to the lion man behind him. 'Can Mr Medieval have his sword and backpack returned to him?'

Dastardly felt the pack hit him hard in the back of the head. The sword followed but only afforded a glance on his ear.

'I was hoping for something like that,' Krotar said with the biggest grin yet.

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