For Honor and Blood

“I have called you all here to ready the men to head to Serendia. My intention is to head to Ludune province and aid House Scur against the Kaladun invaders.”

Mordecai quickly glanced around the room at each of his lieutenants. The Graecians, Alexios and Mateo, were stunned and turned to each other as if to ask the other whether they had heard correctly. Hakeem’s eyes fell into the fire so as not to betray the thoughts behind them. Ibrahim, the Emir’s official representative to his council, hid his mouth in his hand. The two Therovingi brothers, Roderic and Baldric, smiled at the task ahead. Politics weren’t their concern; they only cared about having tales of valor for both this life and the afterlife. Only Altair displayed no reaction, his eyes focused on Mordecai’s. Around the table, several dozen of the lower officers murmured to each other.

“I can tell this council that we’ve been spoiling for a good fight again.” Baldric said, getting to his feet. “Ever since we took Palembo, we’ve faced nothing more than the odd corsair fleet or upstart warlord. We may be living like kings, but the men are getting soft while the Emir’s enemies cower. Much more of this and we’ll be an easy meal for whatever wolf tries to take our place.”

“While I agree with Baldric, what of your exile, Cedarsteel?” Mateo said as he rose in challenge. “We have no fear of crossing the borders of Serendia under your banner, but any lord can put you to death without so much as a thought!”

“I’m sure he’s already considered this.” Altair’s low, meticulous voice countered. He remained seated, having said all that he needed to. The old hawk rarely spoke during such expedition councils as he usually knew beforehand what Mordecai was planning, and had a habit of giving the last word. To hear him speak so early put everyone to silence, and both Mateo and Baldric returned to their seats.

With no further discussion forthcoming, Mordecai rose from his place at the head of the table. “I am grateful for both your loyalty and your concern, Mateo, and I am in agreement with Baldric that the men need a reminder of why we are paid so well.”

He sighed, piercing together his words as best he could. “However, I must tell you that if we do march, this may be the last time that I lead you.”

“Why?” Hakeem demanded.

He could feel the air leave the room. Even Altair, who had known what he was planning, betrayed sorrow at the announcement. Mordecai couldn’t blame them. He had led them to glory and gold for five years after proving for two years why he was among the greatest mercenaries in Inaria under Ulysses Redmane, the Bloodwolves’ previous commander. They had gone from a minor free company to the chief retainer of Mustafa Pasha, Inaria’s most prominent Emir, and they held the Pine Islands and its cities under their direct control. Mordecai himself had more power and influence than his ancestors had ever wielded, and they were never unknowns in the Serendian court.

In truth, without being banished for killing the king’s nephew to save his family’s honor, he might never have become who he was. He’d be some poor naive nobleman with heady ideals and no knowledge of how the world turned. The peaceful duels were replaced by life or death struggles in the murk of a hundred battlefields, the orderly sailing of the Great Channel scorned by the survival against the cliffs and tides of a dozen coasts.

He was almost unrecognizable from what he had once seemed destined to be, but home had come calling.

“Because I no longer wish to be a mercenary. I wish to have my own lands again, and to find a wife from among my own people.”

Hakeem nodded. He among all the others would understand this, having also been exiled for the misdeeds of his youth and longing to see his desert home again, and the love he had been forced to leave behind. From the poems he wrote, Mordecai wished that they could go to the faraway kingdoms and find his redemption there. The crossroads of civilizations; the confluence of all the world’s cultures, and the one thing Hakeem most desired and would likely never get to see again.

Roderic, meanwhile, scoffed in his usual manner. “As if you had no opportunities here to find a wife. The problem with noble blood is that it doesn’t like to be mixed. And you, as a fourth son, don’t have the advantage of gaining the lion’s share of your father’s estate. You’ve carved a realm for yourself here, much less for the rest of us. What more do you need?”

“Forgiveness.” Mordecai surprised himself with how quickly the word came out, but he took advantage of the moment. “You are right that we have our own place here, even if it is still under the Emir’s jurisdiction. What we have been able to accomplish would be sufficient for many men. But most of you can also return to your people and be welcomed with open arms. I, nor Hakeem, cannot. By coming to my people’s aid in their time of trial, they may find a place to forgive what I did.”

Several started to speak, but Hakeem leapt to his feet. “Cai, I would not hesitate to follow you into any fight. But I cannot allow you to surrender your post.”

“And why is that?” Mordecai asked. He had thought that surely Hakeem would take his side in the argument.

“Roderic speaks true; you will not find a better land nor people than you have now. Having the freedom to go home, and to have someone to remember home by is one thing. But you are as much a family to us as your blood relatives. You have sacrificed and bleed for us just as much as we have for you. If you wish not to be our captain, then I ask that you be our lord.”

Mordecai instinctively turned to Altair. The old man’s eyes were twinkling. Of the rest, only the two Greacians showed any surprise. He chuckled. “I never expected a coup like this. I would assume that the Emir was made aware of this?”

Ibrahim nodded. “If you will accept Mustafa Pasha’s friendship and continue your agreements with him, he is willing to cede the islands to you. After all, you are the only one to conquer them in centuries. His Eminence would rather not tempt that fate if it could be helped.”

Pride formed a smile on his face. He had never planned to hold such lands as these, only maybe to receive a small holding upon his father’s passing. They accepted him in spite of his known past, and reminded him of why this land had started to become home to him.

Mordecai turned to Hakeem and gave him a respectful bow. “I’d be a fool to not accept this coup. You have my word; when our march is ended, I will return with you and claim this as my domain.”

Hakeem returned the gesture. “Then I will go with you. You have my blade, brother.”

“And mine, brother.” Alexios said, drawing his blade to emphasize the point. The other lieutenants and officers quickly followed. Roderic and Altair were barely the last, their proud faces revealing their true feelings about Mordecai’s choice. For perhaps one final time, the whole of the Bloodwolves’ council were behind him.

“Inform the men that we sail for Monasta in three days.” Mordecai commanded. “Ludune province is a week’s march inland once we reach the Monastan coast. This will not primarily be an expedition for gold, so any man who does not wish to journey will be allowed to stay behind. The spoils will be distributed as normal.”

“Many might take that as an excuse to not venture forth.” Baldric remarked. The normal practice of their creed stated that those who remained behind in the cities would still receive a quarter portion. Old Ulysses had instituted the practice from the onset of the Bloodwolves so that those who stayed with the supplies didn’t lose out, and Mordecai had expanded its scope with the acquisition of the islands.

“I am aware, but this being an expedition without a client, I cannot promise much.”

“Should we send word on ahead,” Mateo asked, “to see if incentive can be found?”

“No.” he replied. “I am not loved back home, and we would likely be rejected outright.”

Mateo nodded. “And it’s hard to refuse help when it just appears at your threshold.”

The council chuckled at this, as did many of the other officers. They had used the same tactic numerous times on lesser holdings, for it provided a substantial bargaining position.

“However,” Mordecai said slyly, “I harbor no love for Monasta, and to my knowledge have remained defiant of the Emir’s recent tribute demands. Monasta’s treasures will be ours for the taking the moment we make landfall.”

Everyone cheered at this. Mordecai let a smile slip through as he waited for the cheers to die down, then he dismissed them with the free company’s warcry. “For Honor and Blood!”

“For Honor and Blood!”

After the men had left, he went to his quarters and stood on the balcony overlooking the harbor. It was a star filled night, and the moon was full in the sky. There wasn’t a cloud to be seen all the way to the horizon. Below the heavens, the bustling port was lit and lively. Traders were sailing in from up and down the ocean coasts and from the great Elysian sea to the east. His private fleet swung gently at anchor, a fleet that had carried them once to the very walls of the ancient capital of the old Empire. The docks were lined with goods from all corners of the two great continents, and even some luxuries from the far eastern continent.

His gaze shifted further to Caleta herself, the city he had once conquered with Ulysses and then been given as a gift from the Emir. He had insisted upon sparing the citizens and even many of the garrison once they had surrendered, and he had made it a center for trading off Inaria’s rich coasts. In return, the people gave him an almost unswerving loyalty. The city had become one of the most peaceful in this part of the Elysian, and perhaps the world.

Mordecai sighed as he gazed upon the jewel of his mercenary kingdom. His lieutenants were not wrong to question if this was enough. For two and a half years, the city had been. His men had been. Serendia’s nearest coast was thousands of leagues away, barely even within raiding distance if he ever so inclined. What was Serendia that he should care about it anymore?

He reached inside the fold of his robes and pulled out the letters. They had arrived just days apart, the last merely four dawns prior. He knew them without having to read them anymore. The first was from his older brother Geoffrey, the crusader whom he hadn’t heard from since before his exile, imploring him to return home as he himself was. The second was from the castellan of his father’s keep, one of the few who had believed Mordecai, informing him that his brother Jacob had found the body of their sister who had been taken in a Kaladun raid at the beginning of the war. The last was from his mother Kaela. She’d written to him that the knights of House Cedarsteel had been crushed in battle, and though his father and oldest brother had survived, Kaladun was threatening to march on the castle.

Thinking of Brigid’s death brought fresh tears to his eyes. She’d only been nine when Mordecai was banished. She had so much to live for. Now she was gone, and soon the rest of his family might be.

The Scur family held the lands closest to Caleta. They were faced with the brunt of the Kaladun offensive in the south, and from the traders in port Mordecai knew that they were holding strong for now. The king was fighting in the north, where the great cities of Serendia lay. His father’s lands were just south of where the northern fighting was. Geoffrey would come from the north, with any brothers of his creed that might join him since the holy war against the Northmen had died down. Many others might join Kaladun, as the various knightly orders were not united solely by creed. Many felt for home as Mordecai did, and Kaladun was among the largest of the crusading contingents.

Mordecai’s plan was simple. Monasta was one of Kaladun’s favored lands, and some pillaging would please his men on the way in as well as threaten his enemy’s rear. He had no doubt that after that he could help the cunning Scurs drive off Kaladun’s southern force. If he could manage to drive it east instead of north, his men would act as a wedge between the two, and Kaladun’s king would need to consider whether he wanted to continue driving towards Serendia’s heart or securing his own flank.

Either way, Mordecai would fight for Serendia.

If the king allowed it.

He tried to push the doubt from his mind, but it remained. It always remained. He knew in his heart that he would always be responsible for Lord Aston’s death. If he hadn’t been such a rival to him, if they hadn’t already dueled once at the young age of thirteen because of a slight, if Mordecai had been the winner of said duel, maybe then it would have been different. He could still remember the dagger in his hand, his terror when he finally recognized Aston’s face in the moonlight.

A true accident that few could see as such, even among his own family.

Mordecai clenched his fists. Maybe it wouldn’t change anything, but his people were in danger. His family was being killed. He had an army that could aid them, an army feared by many and who had just shown how strong their loyalty to him was. Exile had gifted him a chance to at least try and find redemption in the eyes of the people. In the eyes of his father. In his own eyes.

“For Honor and Blood.” he whispered.