How it Started (Solo)

[Vincent]

“Let’s be mercenaries!”


“What?” Vincent stared at his old friend, Ash, in amazement. Did he just say mercenaries?


“Let’s be mercenaries,” he repeated before quickly adding, “Hear me out. Winter is almost here, and when it is, we won’t have much work to do. Right?” Ash closed and latched the barn door to make sure Vincent could not escape him. This left the barn uncomfortably dark. The only light they had was what shown through the cracks in the door and shutters that lined the wall.

Vincent looked around the barn and squinted when the sunbeams hit his pale blue eyes. As he returned his gaze to Ash he made sure to keep his voice bored and even. This had to be some sort of poorly thought out joke. “Even if the timing is fine, have you actually thought about what you’re asking me? You know how I feel about mercenaries. They’ve been nothing but trouble for us.” Vincent crossed his arms and tried to look for an effective way around Ash’s massive frame. Alas, he had no luck.


“I know your old man left you for that life, but do you really want to die on this farm? Out there is adventure, wealth, and fame to be won! This life is so—just-- much less than it could be.” Ash’s gorilla-like hands clasped Vincent’s shoulders tightly, and he gave him a stern look. “I don’t want to die as just the son of a miller.”


Vincent was taken aback as he avoided eye contact with Ash; his chestnut eyes were fierce with desperation. “Look, I don’t think my ma would ever be okay with this, and I can’t hurt her like that. Besides, I’m the only help she really has around here.”


“That’s why we go in winter. If we make good money, you can send some back, and your ma can’t complain, right? Make enough and she can hire out new hands. If you don’t make that money, then you can come back before the spring season starts. No problem, right? I won’t even try to tell you otherwise.” Ash held a fist over his chest in a sort of oath.


“Except that I don’t want to become a mercenary. Sell-swords are nothing but glorified criminals who hold no allegiances except to gold. Plus, I’m not exactly any good in a fight.” Vincent pointed to his left eye, which was black and swollen. "Besides, my father was Sacaean. Anyone realizes that they won't want anything to do with me." 


“If they think you’re a barbarian that could work to our advantage, actually. They’ll think you’re tough!” Ash grinned. “Come on, you have no argument against this that I can’t shoot down.”


“Except the one where I don’t want to be a mercenary.”


Ash pondered a counter for a moment before speaking. “Yeah, you’re right about that. Well, at least promise me you’ll think about it and give me an answer before the Harvest Festival ends. I plan to leave then, with or without you.”


“With or without me?” Vincent spluttered in horror. “Ash, how long have you been planning this? And the Harvest Festival only gives me a week to decide!” Vincent’s face went from bored and disinterested to panicked and frenzied in an instant.


Ash knew he had Vincent now. He held back a victorious grin. “Right! Best you start making arrangements now. Anyway, I have some things to see to myself. I’ll catch you later, Vin!” Ash waved as he opened the barn door and ran away.


“Ash! But I-” Vincent reached out to catch Ash by the wrist to no avail. “Blast!” he swore. Who else knew he was planning to leave? Surely his betrothed, Anastasia, and Ash’s parents would not have agreed to this. And who could Vincent ask for council? He did not want to go with Ash, but the idea of Ash leaving alone and getting killed because he was not there made him feel even worse. He had a week, right? So, he ought to focus on his chores for now. Vincent grabbed a pitchfork and began to clean the barn. It was difficult to concentrate on the work while his mind was still making sense of Ash’s absurd declaration.  

[Vincent]

That afternoon, Vincent gathered the eggs he and his mother would not use. Their extra crops would not be sold until the harvest festival, but their eggs were delivered on a weekly schedule. He was the delivery boy. Vincent’s first stop was the Grimm household. The Grimm family was well respected for their craft, but he knew them better for their daughter, Malai: the scourge of his childhood. Her father was the leader of the local militia and a retired soldier of the royal army, while her mother was an arms and armor smith of considerable renown. He never understood why their family lived in a sleepy town like this or why men would travel miles to request a weapon forged by them. If he had their reputation, he would have had a shop in the capital.


Vincent took a deep breath before knocking, he needed to brace himself for them. One… two… not even three knocks in, and the door swung wide. Standing there was Malai, the only woman feared by the young men from here to the capital.


“Vinny!” Malai quickly wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him inside.


“Were you waiting for me by the door?” The time between knocks and answering was far too quick.


“You? Nah, I was waiting for Ash actually, said he had something to talk to me about when I got off patrol. He was in a real hurry though, so I never did find out what for.” Noticing the basket in Vincent’s hands she snatched it from him and took a look. “Oh, eggs, yum.”


“Careful with those! You aren’t my only delivery you know,” he ripped the basket from her, hugging it defensively and turning away.


“Maybe, but you know I’m your favorite.” With a sharp jab into Vincent’s arm she smiled wide.


“I think the butcher has you beat. At least he makes good trades.” Vincent rubbed his sore arm and placed the basket on the floor.
“That really hurt.”


“You’ll get over it. Besides, looks like you took a nice shiner recently.” She pointed to her own green eyes, prompting Vincent to run a hand over his swollen one. “Who was it? Want me to make him bleed?” She pounded a fist into her open palm.


“No, no! It’s fine!” He waved his hands frantically. “Don’t do anything rash. You joined the militia, so any petty fights are going to reflect poorly on them, not just you.” Vincent hoped she would have more concern for others than she gave herself.


“I guess.” Malai pouted. “And I can’t let my dad grant me immunity, that’d just be cheating.”


Vincent could never tell Malai this, but he looked up to her. She may have caused Ash and him trouble as children, but she grew into a true friend, albeit begrudgingly. He always respected her determination most of all, and despite her rough looks, she was pretty. He had to wonder if her dirty blond hair was natural or just dirty. They both had ponytails and yet he was the one with the better kempt hair. Her hyper aggressive attitude really was the only thing that really bothered him about her.


Looking from Vincent to the basket, Malai snatched it off the ground and brought it over to a table. “You should stop being so spacey.”


Vincent blushed, “I’m not spacey!” He couldn’t admit his spaciness was due to his admiring her. That was out of the question. He joined her to make certain she didn’t take more than her family’s share of the eggs.


As Malai finished counting out their two dozen eggs she asked, “Hey Vin, any idea what Ash would want with me? He usually avoids me unless we have business. Plus, he tells you everything.”


Almost everything, he thought. Did Ash really keep his intentions secret for so long, or did he just not want to admit it was a spontaneous decision? “Well, he, uh… I have an idea of what it might be but first promise you won’t mention it to anyone.” Vincent rubbed the back of his head nervously.


“I don’t think I’m going to promise,” she replied coyly. “Making you sweat is too much fun.”


“Then I won’t tell you. What good is blackmail if you threaten someone with it before you have any?” Although, he wondered if it really was a good idea to give blackmailing advice to Malai of all people.


“Fine,” Malai said, giving Vincent her best pair of puppy dog eyes. If she was not so violent he might have felt something other than annoyance. “So, what’s the deal?” Noting the lack of trust in Vincent’s eyes she reassured him by saying, “I won’t talk. I swear. I won’t even tell him you told me, on my honor!”


Anyone else’s honor would have meant little to Vincent, but Malai’s was another story. She was incredibly serious about it. “Okay.” He peered around the room to ensure they were the only two present. Once he felt confident no one else would walk in, he said, “Ash is planning to become a mercenary. Worse still, he wants me to go with him.”


Malai leaned back in her seat contemplatively. “I see. Oh! I get it, he wants me to make him a weapon!”


“Or he could want you to come with him.”


“Me? Nah, he wants my blades. My mom is a lot better than me, but if he asks her, he’ll just get exposed by her big mouth. I’ll do it, but I’ll charge him a substantial rush fee!” Malai laughed giddily. “Can you imagine the look on his face when he has to pay nearly double?”


“Glad you can take this in stride, but shouldn’t we try to stop him?”


“Why? Ash knows what he’s doing, and even if he doesn’t, what should I care? His actions have no bearing on my life.” Malai shrugged. Vincent did not agree with her sentiment, but he thought it best not to argue with her about it now. “Anyway, thanks for the information. I can use this to my advantage.”


“Your advantage?”


“Yeah, I gave you my word I wouldn’t expose him, but he doesn’t know that. I’ll make him sweat and make him pay for all he’s worth. I don’t think that will be much, but the joy of watching him struggle will be payment enough!”


“You’re welcome, I guess.” Vincent sighed. Malai had a real sadistic streak, not to mention a love of coin. Taking his basket back, Vincent stood and adjusted his tunic. “I ought to get going. You were only my first stop, and I’ve spent too much time here as is.”


“Oh, yeah. I’ll see you for the festival then?” Malai’s aggressive nature seemed to fall apart when she asked him.


“Of course! It’s something I never miss.” Vincent smiled.


“Great!” Malai jumped up from her seat and pushed Vincent across the room and out the door.


“Hey, hey wait!”


“Can’t have you here when Ash shows up, lest he get suspicious!” At the doorstep, she gave Vincent a final push that nearly made him fall.


“Careful!” Vincent turned sharply to scold Malai, but she waved and slammed the door shut before he could. “You’re a real pain!” He yelled. With no further response he sighed and slouched his shoulders.

[Vincent]

The sun would be setting soon, and the chimneys were filling the sky with smoke and the smells of dinner. It made him hungry and ever more eager to finish the delivery. He always loved this time of day; it made the town feel alive and busy while keeping the streets quiet. It was a perfect time for him to think.

As he walked, Vincent kicked a small rock that had chipped out from the stone road. It seemed that not just his own farm was beginning to feel the wear of age but so too was the road. Long ago the town was a bustling trade hub but, new routes were established and now only the most stubborn chose to continue to live in Solune.

Vincent’s next stop was to see the butcher, Greg. The shop smelled of meat, both raw and seared. Greg fancied himself as some kind of chef, and Vincent enjoyed his cooking well enough, but he always wondered what a real chef would be like. No chef in his imagination carried a series of knives at his waist or wore an apron stained with blood.

“If it isn’t Vincent! Come in! Come in!” Greg was always inviting to Vincent and gave him special attention. Vincent was sure that Greg’s warmth had nothing to do with his own merit but rather due to Greg’s affection toward his mother. Despite Greg’s large size and booming voice, he was too bashful to admit it to anyone, least of all her. “Just set the eggs on the counter there and I’ll get your share of meat together.”

“Appreciate it, Greg,” Vincent said making his way to a stool. “Always a pleasure doing business.”

“Your pal Ash came by earlier today. Took me by surprise when he ordered a week’s worth of dried meat. Paid for it all and just ran out saying he’d get it after the festival. Do you know what he’s up to? Sounds suspicious to me.” Vincent’s face revealed he knew something. “Well, if it’s something private then I won’t pry.”

“Thanks.” Vincent appreciated the butcher. Greg was always eager to hear the latest gossip and help others through their issues, but he was also a tightlipped confidant that kept everything to himself. Not even gold could sway his tongue. “If your friend was looking to go off and do something reckless in the pursuit of money and fame what would you do?”

“Hm?” Greg stopped working to listen; he was a terrible multitasker. “Is this something illegal or just dangerous?”

“Dangerous. I don’t think it’s illegal.”

“Then I would try to get in on the scheme. Making a lot of money in a short time- that is the dream of all men,” laughed Greg. “No, I can’t say without having any idea what this dangerous work is. If it’s hunting, forget it. I am a terrible shot with a bow and an even slower runner. A belly like mine is too much tempting food for little beasties!”

“I’m serious, Greg!”

“So am I! Look at this!” Greg turned sideways and held his gut in his hands, giving it a jiggle for good measure. “Tell me that isn’t appetizing.”

“To me or the animals? I know I don’t want it.” The two of them laughed. “I just can’t believe Ash wants to be a mercenary. It all seems sudden, too. He wants me to go with him, but I feel nothing but disdain for sell-swords.”

“A mercenary?” Greg fell silent and went back to work. After cutting up the rest of the meat he owed Vincent, he spoke again. “I know your history with mercenaries is bad, but I can’t bring myself to fault the kid for taking that route. Ash has always been a dreamer. To actually ask you though, now I know he’s not thinking clearly.”

“I know, but I can’t stand the idea of Ash going off alone into a dangerous world and getting himself killed and no one knowing why.” Vincent rubbed the back of his head nervously before adding, “Plus, the money would be good for my ma.”

“Hmm. I’m afraid I can’t help you with this one. My advice: just do what makes you happy.” Vincent looked dissatisfied with that answer. His decision was never about what would make him happy. Greg finished packaging the food and replaced the basket’s contents with his goods. “I threw in a little extra dried fish for you kid.” Was he telling him to go with Ash?

“Thanks. Anyway, I probably won’t be back out until the festival, so I’ll see you then.”

“Yup, take care of yourself, and uh, put a good word in for me with Margaret.”

“You got it!” Vincent waved and began his trip home.