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.”