Gold Wins Wars

by Verlax

Chapter V - Free Sabers

“So, you just want a single table over there?” the bartender asked.

“Yeah.” Winterspell nodded.

“What for?”

“I’m searching for some mercenaries. I just nailed an ad on the notice board and I want to sit here and wait for some candidates to show up,” he explained easily. “Your little business here is the best place in town to find that sort of pony.”

“Fine by me.” The bartender shrugged. “Do you want some grog?”

“No thanks.”

Winterspell turned from the counter and plopped down at his table. The ‘Unfortunate Acrobat’ was a local tavern in the port district of Lubuck. The tavern had been built ten years ago when some earth pony acrobat was entertaining the crowd by walking on a tightrope strewn between the roofs of two buildings. Unfortunately for the performer, when some drunken sailor threw an empty bottle at him, the acrobat lost his balance, and the rest was history. At least that’s what the bartender insisted had happened. Winterspell knew that ponies like the heavyset bartender were prone to inventing customer-attracting legends like that, and the experienced captain didn’t believe a bit of it.

The ‘Unfortunate Acrobat’ was a nice place, all things considered. It wasn’t the typical crowded seaside haunt; it was relatively comfortable, and even a bit less dirty than most of the port. The smell of sweat and beer was almost unbearable, as was expected from a place like this, but aside from that, it was rather enjoyable. The owner, a stallion by the name of Honey Drink was a honest fellow, a rarity amongst his fellow barkeeps, and he didn’t water down his beer all that much. Winterspell knew he could find mercenaries anywhere; it was the atmosphere that had caused him to put up his notice in the Acrobat.

Sitting at his lone table, Winterspell lazily scanned the patrons, waiting for somepony with an offer. Most of the customers here were sailors, but he also spotted two merchants, probably discussing some sort of trade agreement. A group of port workers were using their free time to play cards. There was also a drinking contest going on: two sailors chugging down shot after shot in some sort of bet, all to the delight of their shouting and cheering companions.

However, watching all the goings-on of the tavern began to get old after awhile. Winterspell always dreaded that first moment of boredom because it always, always, led him to ruminate.

Lubuck was the first city he saw after he left Novigrad. He knew many things about the city: its architecture, climate, the ponies living there. But he could also summarize it all in a single word―ambition. There was always a chance to make something better, to earn more money, to get richer, to build bigger. All that was reflected in the mindset of the ponies living there.

It didn’t mean that all the merchants and shopkeepers were crooks looking for gullible fools to pick clean. It didn’t mean the streets were full of thieves trying to make a quick coin. It didn’t mean Lubuck was a capital of hazard. It was something different. If somepony was ambitious, it usually meant he was also optimistic. These two traits seemed to go hoof-in-hoof. After all, if a pony had no hope of success, how could they ever truly be called ambitious?

Even the ponies in the ‘Unfortunate Acrobat’ seemed to reflect this viewpoint. Honey Drink once told the young captain before a cruise that he was going to open a second tavern. Several cruises later, and the aspiring tavern magnate still didn’t have his new shop, but at least he was trying to reach his goal. Winterspell knew Drink was saving up money bit by bit, and soon he would have enough to make good on that promise. At least he had a goal in his life. And maybe someday after yet another cruise, Winterspell would be greeted by Honey Drink, a proud owner of two taverns. It was as simple as that.

A group of ponies entered the ‘Unfotunate Acrobat’. For a split second Winterspell thought they could be the stallions he was looking for. Unfortunately, they appeared to be just another crew looking forward to spending their hard earned bits on on alcohol. Winterspell sighed with resignation.

Winterspell’s mind inadvertently brought him back to Grainwood’s questions, making him feel sick to the stomach. They were so damn accurate, like crossbow bolts. But did he really need a bigger salary? What he was going to do with it? Buy better food for himself? He was fine with what he was eating already. Change a tavern and sleep somewhere more pricy? He felt comfortable here in the ‘Acrobat’ and Winterspell didn’t think any fancy-shmancy upper class tavern would be much better. It wasn’t like his bed wasn’t good enough.

The point of having money was to spend it. If there was nothing for him to spend it on, the coins were useless for him. They were just small pieces of malleable, shiny metal. Nothing more. He preferred iron to gold, anyway.

Winterspell didn’t think anything would change his situation.

...

Celeste’ damn it, he had to stop thinking.

“Honey Drink! Barkeep!” he shouted.

After a moment, the owner squeezed his way through the crowd of patrons.“Changed your mind?” Honey Drink asked knowingly.

“Yeah. Grab me a beer.”

“Anything particular? We have Old Cirran Ale, Compact Porter, imported vodka, some…”

“Whatever you like,” he said, cutting the barkeep off.

“Okay. Coming right up.”

This was no way to solve his problems, Winterspell knew. Most importantly, however, it wouldn’t mysteriously summon any mercenaries in front of his table. He’d just be left with his damned thoughts. The mug of alcohol arrived moments later, and he took one careful sip. It wasn’t horrible, but it was far from being wonderful. Beer was beer. At least it wasn’t watered down.

He drank it slowly, not only because of the mediocrity of the taste, but because that way it would last him longer. After all, he didn’t want to be completely hammered when somepony finally answered his ad....

---

“Hello?”

Winterspell barely raised his tired eyes from the table. He didn’t even have the will to do the same with his head.

A dark blue pegasus stood in front of his table, dressed in a thick leather clothes. He was hiding most of his golden mane under some sort of strange fur cap with a single white feather protruding from it.

“I read your ad on the notice board. You are looking for some mercenaries, are you not?” the stranger asked, his voice tilting with a weird accent the slightly intoxicated captain couldn’t pinpoint.

“Yea.” Winterspell nodded slowly.

“May I sit down?”

“Sure.”

The pegasus sat down slowly, moving four empty mugs to the side to clear the view.

“My name is Kazimierz z Dostojewskich and I’m interested in your offer,” he began without preamble. “I have with me twenty men that are willing to serve for a reasonable price.”

Instead of answering right away, Winterspell slowly raised his head from the table and, with a bored look, scanned the pony before him.

“You’re from Danzig, aren’t you?” Winterspell asked carefully, the accent finally clicking in his head.

“It’s called ‘Gdańsk’, but yes, I’m from there,” the pegasus confirmed.

“Oh, kill me now,” Winterspell groaned.

“What was that?”

“I said we need to get you a nickname so I don’t hurt myself trying to call you by your actual name,” the captain quickly covered. “I have some paper and ink here with me. Write down your name,” he ordered, giving the other pegasus the writing utensils.

The pony from Danzig wasted no time and did as he was told. Winterspell inspected what he wrote and silently cursed. It was worse than he thought.

“Okay, let’s start from ‘Kazimierz’,” Winterspell began. “Say this word.”

“Kazimierz.”

Winterspell tried to write down how the word should sound in Equiish.

“Let’s continue. What is this ‘z’?”

“Ah, that. It’s a part of my surname,” Kazimierz explained. “I’m a noble, and ‘Kazimierz’ is my name, but ‘z Dostojewskich’ means that I’m part of this particular noble house. So ‘z’ here, means ‘from’ or ‘of’. Sort of. It’s complicated.”

Winterspell wrote down his entire name one more time. He sighed in resignation; it still looked like a right proper mess.

“Okay, I guess that’s all I can do,” the captain passed him his notes.

“Casimir Dostoyevsky” the pony from Danzig read it out slowly. “It doesn’t sound half bad.”

At least one problem was solved. Winterspell could do without breaking his tongue trying to say the mercenary’s name. Now he could finally focus on the real reason this ‘Casimir’ was here. Of course, he couldn’t properly discuss anything with a Danzigian without having a drink.

“Bartender, two mugs!” Winterspell shouted and turned back to his interviewee.“Okay Casimir, we need to get back on topic You said twenty ponies, correct?”

“Indeed.” Dostoyevsky nodded and took a sip of his drink. “Including me it’s twenty and one.”

“You have any weapons?”

“Twenty and one sabers, twelve crossbows, twenty and one lances and one of my men has a greatsword.”

“Greatsword?” Winterspell raised an eyebrow at that. “What sort of greatsword? Claymore?”

“Heck if I know.” Casimir shrugged. “He got it from his father and he never truly explained it to me. I really can’t see any difference between a claymore, flamberge, and a Zweihufer. Also, I don’t think it matters as long as it works properly, right?”

Winterspell asked only because it was common knowledge that using a greatsword in combat was either a sign of great courage or even greater stupidity. Half the moves you could do with saber were impossible to perform with a weapon of such size. It was heavy, it quickly tired out the user, and it was awfully hard to parry with it. He truly didn’t understand why anypony even bothered using them. There were far better ways to perform a suicide, in his opinion.

“Do all ponies in your group come from Danzig?” Winterspell changed the topic.

“Most of them, yes. Several of them live in the settlements around it. And I would really appreciate it if you called it Gdańsk.” he added.

“Okay, twenty one ponies… races?” Winterspell continued, noting something down and taking a small sip of his drink.

“Ehm… let me think… eight pegasi, six unicorns, six earth ponies and an auroch.”

Strange that Dostoyevsky managed to gather a team made up of all three pony races. Even stranger was the last word used by him.

“Auroch?” Winterspell asked with confusion. “What’s an auroch?”

“Ehm… he has four legs, is sort of big, has two horns, brown fur… um…” the pegasus struggled to explain. “Cholera,” he cursed in his native language. “Maybe it’d be best if I just showed you our whole group? It would be easier, and more fair.”

“Good idea.” Winterspell nodded and tried to get up. However, the moment he did so the captain realised he was a bit tipsy. While he didn’t feel anything while sitting, when hestood up the whole world seemed to sway before his eyes. “One mug too much,” he thought.

“Okay, lead the way,” he said towards Casimir, trying to fight off his dizziness.

“We made camp just outside town, near the forest. It’s a bit of a walk there.” the noble warned, and the two of them left the tavern.

---

“I don’t think I’m really that drunk Casimir, but this, this is frickin’ weird.” Those were the first words Winterspell said once he laid eyes on Casimir’s group.

It was definitely the strangest bunch of ponies he ever saw. Most of them were dressed exactly like Casimir, though a few of them also wore large mustaches and thick beards on their faces, a rather uncommon sight in these parts. Back in Novigrad many ponies were similarly unshaven, but that was mostly due to the cold climate ; but outside of that region almost no pony had facial hair. Here, however, it was the middle of summer and they were still outfitted for a venture into the northern wilds.

And then there was the ‘auroch’. The creature was bigger than Winterspell, even lying down. The auroch was also the only being in the group that didn’t wear any clothing. Besides the size, however, the most terrifying features of this thing were his two horns, menacingly protruding from both sides of his head. They were at least thirty inches long and they had about seven inches in diameter.

“His name is Weird Hoar. Funny guy to have around.” Casimir said, pointing at the auroch. “I’m sure you’ll get along nicely.”

“Right…” Winterspell said weakly. Simply thinking about this this mountain of meat and its long horns ramming into somepony made his hooves a bit shaky. At this point he started to wonder if the ‘Little Conqueror’ would be able to even hold him.

Winterspell caught another interesting individual with the corner of his his eye. He looked mostly the same as others, expect for one major detail: he was obviously an adult, with his mustache, but he was comically small, almost like a colt.

“He may look cute, but don’t laugh at him!” Dostoyevsky warned him once he saw who Winterspell was looking at. “That’s Little Knight. He may not look the part, but in truth he’s one of the best swordsponies in the entire realm. I can swear whatever oath you want that its true, and believe me―you would not want to cross swords with him.”

Again, Winterspell was a bit sceptical about the mercenary’s claims. Little Knight himself was polishing his blade, clearly not paying any attention to the discussion between their leader and the captain. The rest of the group was sitting or laying around a small bonfire. Some of them waved when the couple approached, though the rest of them was too busy glaring into the flames. The entire camp was settled outside of the city, whose walls were just behind Winterspell’s back.

While he was taking in the site of the camp, Winterspell noticed the greatsword Casimir mentioned. It was held by the tall, wiry earth pony. He was probably the only one there without a proper noble beard. The blade he was holding was four feet and seven inches long, and it was a true behemoth. Winterspell was wondering how it was even possible to swing such a blade. Its owner also looked like he was the youngest one in the group, and seemed to avoid eye contact with everypony, staring into the flames.

“And sir Hoodripper. Actually the main reason why we came to Equestria in the first place.” Casimir explained.

"Yhm.” Winterspell silently murmured. He had to admit, these ponies with the support of the auroch would easily keep the Victual Brothers at bay.

“Bracia szlachta!” Casimir spoke to the group in his native language.. “Mamy tutaj szanownego pana Winterspella, który właśnie szuka takich kuców jak my do ochrony statków!”

“Jak się zdarzy, na pewno za niego wypiję!” one of them answered, and a sudden thought struck Winterspell.

“Dostoyevsky, why didn’t you speak in Equiish?” Winterspell asked, already dreading the answer.

“Ehm… they don’t know this language. That’s why I’m the one doing all the talking.” Casimir confessed.

A long silence fell between the two of them. Only the sound of the fire crackling in the fire pit could be heard in the background. The rest of the group didn’t say anything either. Now Winterspell at least knew why the rest of the group wasn’t paying any attention to their conversation. They simply didn’t understand a single word of it.

“You mean to tell me, Casimir, that out of twenty one ponies you are the only one here that can speak Equiish?” Winterspell asked, just to be sure.

“Yes. I’m the only one,” the leader of this pack confirmed. “Though I think Twardowski knows a little bit of of it as well, I’m not sure,” he added.

Winterspell closed his mouth.

How was he supposed to deal with them? The group looked fantastic. They had what they needed―muscles and weaponry to deal with any enemy. But he was never, ever going to be able to work with ponies who couldn’t even understand his orders. He needed a group of ponies that actually knew what he was saying.

Winterspell sighed. He had to turn them down in a diplomatic way. And he already knew how to do just that. A simple question about their salary. No matter what Casimir would say, he would just report to Grainwood they were too expensive.

“Okay, back to business, Casimir. How much do you want for your services?” he asked.

“Oh, well… it would be really nice if you could pay for our meals and drinks. Weird Hoar especially tends to eat more than our entire group...”

“Good…” Winterspell thought. “Carry on…”

“...and besides that, we’ll work for free.” Casimir finished.

For several seconds, this simple yet completely illogical statement couldn’t pass the rational blockade in Winterspell’s brain. He stood still, staring at Casimir, opening and closing his mouth in a passable impersonation of a fish.

“You’ll work... for free?” he finally forced out.

“Absolutely.” Casimir nodded. “We didn’t come to Equestria just to earn money.We are traveling knights that want to do good deeds for the sake of ponykind! Not only that, but several of us have oaths to fulfill. We gathered our group mostly for the sake of Hoodripper. In his youthful pride and search for honor, he swore a... really stupid oath. In the presence of witnesses, he said that he will not marry any mare until he can repeat the deed his great, great grandfather: cutting off three heads with one swing of his greatsword.”

Winterspell, at that moment, was one hundred percent sure he was completely drunk. It had to be the biggest load of horseapples he had ever heard. His eye twitched as his mind refused to believe what Casimir was saying.

“You know, I have no idea how nobility works in this land, but when somepony dares to swear an oath like that in Gdańsk, there is no going back. He has to do this.” Dostoyevsky started explaining, completely ignoring Winterspell’s facial expression. “So I thought to myself: ‘if the seas are so dangerous, then the best way to fulfill an oath like that is to enlist on somepony’s ship and wait for the right moment.’ The Victa are bound to strike sooner or later. And then one swing, and problem solved, plus three pirates less to worry about. So to answer your question: no, we don’t need any kind of salary, just pay for our meals and drinks and we will gladly protect your ships.”

“And the rest of them?” Winterspell asked, desperately trying to preserve his sanity in face of utter nonsense.

“Little Knight is just a dear friend of mine who decided to help me out with this quest. Weird Hoar is, as you can imagine with a name like that, weird. He does these sorts of things a lot. He talks about prophecies and stuff. You know, he is prophet. He sees the future. At least, that’s what he told me and I have yet to see a reason to doubt him. The rest are a bunch of nobles I persuaded with a mix of tales of glory and a bit of diplomacy, or they’re out fulfilling their own oaths. You know, we all like Hoodripper very much. It would be shame if he couldn’t finish his quest.”

Winterspell sighed. “Okay. I think I know everything I need to know. And even if I don’t know everything, don’t enlighten me please. It’s too much already.”

Casimir shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I’ll be on my way then.” he continued, taking a step back towards the town walls. “I’ll meet you tomorrow morning and inform you of Grainwood’s decision.”

---

Grainwood slowly went through the notes Winterspell made. She was once again wearing her reading glasses, this time so she could decipher the pegasus’ messy writing.

“Well,” she started after finishing. “From what I see here I have no other choice but to hire them.”

The captain rolled his eyes.

“Grainwood, I wouldn’t trust anypony who offers his services for free. It sounds fishy,” Winterspell said in worried tone. He was silently cursing his failed plan, foiled by those weirdos from Danzig.

“Oh, that’s just rich, especially coming from you, mister ‘I don’t need a raise’..” Grainwood chuckled. “I just see a bunch of strange ponies of Danzig who offer their services basically for free. They only want for their food and drinks to be paid by us. Hmm... on second thought this might not be as good an offer as I initially thought.. From what I heard, Danzingians drink a lot…”

“But seriously!” Winterspell groaned. “They don’t even know our language, how am I supposed to communicate with them? Signal flares?”

“Body language? Simple commands? Use your dear friend ‘Casimir’ as an interpreter? He seems to have a good head on his shoulders. He knows two languages already.” Grainwood suggested.

Winterspell sighed. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Besides, I seriously need those mercenaries, and I need them immediately.” Grainwood continued. “I want you to take the ‘Little Conqueror’ from Lubuck to Ridge with the first transport of wood. It’ll help me build up my prestige for the next meeting of the Horseatic Circle.”

The captain raised one of his eyebrows. “Horseatic Circle?”

“ A meeting of local merchants and politics.” Grainwood explained. “It doesn’t have the same political authority as the Hanstag, but the Circles are far more important on a local scale. I want to acquire some more information on the local market and maybe sign some more trade agreements.”

Winterspell, not really interested in the details, decided to change topic back to the original. “Grainwood, I think we should really consider hiring a proper group of mercenaries for us. Give me a few days and―”

“My budget is strict and limited,” she interrupted almost immediately. “I cannot allow such an occasion to pass under my nose. We are hiring them. End of discussion.” Grainwood finished with a note of finality to her voice, and as if nothing had happened, she went back to work on her documents. It was an obvious signal that she considered the conversation over and wasn’t going to respond to any attempts to continue it.

Sighing in resignation, Winterspell left her cabinet, already feeling a growing headache.

Comments

[RoboRed]

“Heck if I know.” Casimir shrugged. “He got it from his father and he never truly explained it to me. I really can’t see any difference between a claymore, flamberge, and a Zweihufer. Also, I don’t think it matters as long as it works properly, right?”

I lol'd at "zweihufer".

[Brown Books]

Mercenaries, soldiers of fortune eh! This is gonna rock later can't wait for another chapter!

[djthomp]

I love these mercenaries.

[FancyFan]

Auroch

YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Oh, well… it would be really nice if you could pay for our meals and drinks. Weird Hoar especially tends to eat more than our entire group...”
“Good…” Winterspell thought. “Carry on…”
“...and besides that, we’ll work for free.” Casimir finished.

Take the deal! Take the deal! You are not going to get this lucky again. And the Auroch is even a freaking prophet!