The next morning found Captain Owen waiting in the Lord Kelvane’s hall for an audience.
Aside from aches from head to toe and an exhaustion that went bone deep, the Captain was
unharmed. The remainder of the night had been spent tending to the injured and burying their dead. Nearly a quarter of the company had fallen, and another quarter would require weeks to heal. In a few moments, Captain Owen would find out whether or not the gamble of their blood had paid off.
With the Captain stood Sergeant Gambit and the newly promoted Sergeants Jens and Kass.
The other nobles and commanders gave the four men a wide berth not only for their ill reputation but for the bloody burlap sacks that they had dragged in with them.
“Gods above, what is that stench?” Lord Kelvane asked once he had taken his seat.
“Smells like dead dog,” Sir Frencis replied.
“Not quite, Sir Frencis” said Captain Owen, upending his sack and shaking out the
enormous heads of the two wolfmen. A gasp shuddered its way through the crowd.
“Lady’s Love, what monstrosity do you bring into my hall?” Lord Kelvane recoiled as he
spoke.
“These are the heads of the wolfmen who led the harrying of your fields,” explained
Captain Owen, straining to lift one of the colossal craniums.
“Wolfmen?” Lord Kelvane was incredulous. “In the southern moors?”
“Well, not anymore, my Lord,” said Gambet, putting a boot on the other head.
“We’ve come to collect our pay,” said Owen. “You may keep the heads if you’d like.”
“No, that will not be necessary Captain,” said Lord Kelvane. He gestured to his bursar who
brought forth a respectable coin purse. “Perhaps I misjudged your Dahrmenheim Company.”
“Vulture Company,” Captain Owen said, nodding his thanks to the bursar. From the corner
of his eye he could see Sir Frencis fuming.
“What’s that?” asked Lord Kelvane.
Captain Owen smiled. “We are Vulture Company, sir.”
Thank you for the contribution, J.M.! You can follow this author on instagram @jmturner.author
Comments