Eitan awoke to a knocking on his door. He sat up and turned his legs off the bed. "Enter."
The door opened, and Lind came in with a tense expression. "Lord Eitan, a group of barbarians launched a raid on a village last night."
Eitan's eyes narrowed, and he automatically emitted some bloodlust, but withdrew it rapidly when he saw Lind flinch. "... Casualties?"
Lind gulped, "Six, three men, two women, and… one child."
The bloodlust Eitan had just suppressed flared up once more. Lind went weak in the knees but impressively didn't take a step back. "Sir Aengus led a squad out after getting the news, but they had already fled past the border. He chose to halt and guard through the night instead of giving chase."
Eitan released a long exhale and briefly shut his eyes, and when they opened again, he was perfectly composed. "He made a good judgment. What's important is protecting the people, not risking lives in a possibly futile pursuit." He deliberated for a moment before continuing, "What's the current financial state of the territory?"
Lind didn't seem to be expecting this question, but promptly answered, "Not bad. The lord's decision to sell off the excess decorations resulted in a sizable sum."
Eitan stood up and began dressing himself. "Hold funerals for those killed, and provide an appropriate amount of support for any family that lost their breadwinner in the attack. I'll deal with the barbarian problem. Ah, get Farrel for me on your way."
"Yes, Your Lordship." Lind bowed without question and left to organize things.
Eitan finished getting ready and ate a quick breakfast provided by Yuriel before striding out of the room. Farrel was waiting in the hall and saluted the instant Eitan emerged. "You called, my liege?"
"What's the best mercenary group I can hire right now?" Eitan questioned him directly. This was Eitan's solution to the problem. The territory had a dire lack of soldiers, and even if the militia were technically battle-ready, he could hardly throw a bunch of newbies against the barbarians, infamous for their superior strength. Mercenaries were always a ready source of manpower, participating in everything from escort requests to full-blown wars, as long as the price was right.
Farrel pondered solemnly for a moment before answering. "I have a contact with a well-acknowledged group known as the Silver Wolf Mercenaries, but…" He hesitated briefly before continuing. "The majority of the members come from questionable backgrounds. In addition, likely due to their relatively high prowess, they are also known for being quite willful. If my liege wishes for better characters, I can-"
"No need," Eitan cut him off resolutely. "If they're skilled, that's all I care for." So what if they had difficult characters? He was not hailed as the Mercenary King for nothing. It would be no issue for him to wrangle any troublemakers straight to the ground.
"I shall send a message, then." Farrel bowed compliantly and hurried off to do just that.
Eitan didn't wait to watch him go and moved on to his next task. He went down a few halls to reach the wing for administration and threw open the door to a large room. Inside, Beren sat behind a desk while directing subordinates with stacks of papers in their hands. His brow cinched ever so slightly at the sudden intrusion, and he raised his head. The moment he realized it was Eitan, he smiled like a blossom in spring. "Lord Eitan. What brings you here?"
"What's the current defense plan for the territory?" Eitan strode up to Beren and inquired shortly.
"A plan to prevent similar incidents like the one last night is already in the works," Beren responded smoothly as he held out one of the documents he had been working on.
Eitan received it and reviewed it methodically before placing it back on the desk, the strength in his arm causing the desk to shake. "Once you've finished this, create a basic strategy of attack on the barbarians. I don't doubt you've already familiarized yourself with both their power and our own. Count out the militia as they'll remain in the territory, and factor in the power of the Silver Wolf mercenaries. They're well known enough, so figure it out."
Beren's eyes flashed with understanding, and he bowed his head. "It shall be ready by the morrow."
Eitan looked at him with considerable satisfaction. "I'll be looking forward to it." He gave the others in the room a nod of acknowledgment before leaving them to their work. He went off again and this time went to the communication room where Farrel stood in front of a glowing orb. Nearly every castle and manor was equipped with a similar object, and any decent group would have one for themselves as well. As long as one had the contact information, the orb could be used to communicate with any other like itself.
Farrel turned around just as Eitan entered, and the glow of the orb dimmed. "My liege, the mercenary group I mentioned shall soon come to the territory to negotiate the request."
Negotiate, huh? Eitan smirked a bit. "Willful, indeed. Until their arrival, I want you to bring some more soldiers to support Aengus for the protection of the citizens. If you encounter any barbarians, capture them for questioning, and kill them if you can't." His gaze darkened with those last words.
Farrel dropped to one knee and placed his hand over his chest. "As you order!"
Eitan's heavy heart finally relaxed a bit now that everything had been set into motion. However, he maintained his vigilance. After all, the battle had only just begun.
*****
"Is a pretty boy like this really in charge here?"
Eitan sat on the throne and looked down at the two men in front of him. Farrel stood to his right and Aengus to his left, both with fairly sour expressions.
The man who had just spoken was the leader of the mercenary group called upon by Farrel. He had fiery red hair and a scarred complexion. His build was rather large as well, so he gave off quite an imposing impression. His forest-green eyes were currently looking Eitan up and down while he scratched his ear. The other had silver hair and a more lean build, but the large scar running over his nose and piercing gray eyes made him also look rather fearsome.
"Mind your manners towards his lordship!" Aengus threatened with a hand on the hilt of his sword.
The man didn't seem intimidated in the slightest as he laxly dusted off his hand. "I came here 'cause the pay was supposed to be good, but that doesn't mean we'll become the toys of some sissy young lord. Unless y'all have something really worth our time, I'll be declining this request."
Aengus was on the brink of jumping down and personally removing the tongue of this ruffian, but Eitan held up a hand to restrain him. "So, your issue is not with the request itself but with me, correct?"
The man raised an eyebrow, startled by Eitan's straightforwardness. "Yeah, I've got no intention of dragging my men around on the whims of some noble brat."
Eitan smiled unaffectedly. "You're quite hasty in your evaluations. If you're like this on the battlefield too, you're rather lucky your head hasn't gone rolling by now."
"What's a kid playing lord know about the battlefield?" The silver-haired man, who had been introduced as the vice-leader, interjected harshly. "Captain, let's bounce already. Why keep wasting time with this snotty greenhorn?"
Before the redhead could respond, Eitan stood up. He stared down at the two mercenaries with a shrewd smile. "If you're so unsatisfied, then shall we decide this in the circle?"
The faces of the two men changed drastically, while Aengus' expression morphed to one of confusion. Meanwhile, Farrel turned to Eitan with a furrowed brow. "My liege, this-"
"Do you understand what you just said?" Narrowed, dark green eyes pierced into Eitan from below as a cold voice interrupted Farrel.
"I don't say things I don't mean," Eitan retorted evenly, but scoffed internally. Was there anyone more familiar with this tradition than him? Among mercenaries, every man was a precious resource, so a distinct tradition arose to resolve disputes, designed to reduce the amount of casualties. This was how the circle came to be.
Like its name, it involved drawing a small circle on the ground. The two opposing individuals would step inside, armed only with a single dagger. They would then tie their non-dominant hands together. They would duel in this state, and there were three ways to emerge victorious. First, of course, would be to kill your opponent. Next would be to merely render them incapable of fighting, whether that be by incapacitation or surrender. The last method was to force the other out of the circle, which may sound the simplest, but was incredibly difficult to do, considering one was tied to the other.
It was actually not uncommon for both parties to perish from their injuries after participating in this. If this occurred, any groups behind the participants were expected to put their grievances to rest. That was why, despite its barbaric impression, it was actually considered a sacred method of preventing unnecessary bloodshed. It was also a useful practice for clean annexation, as if both survived, it was ruled that the life of the loser would be left entirely in the hands of the victor.
"I don't know how a young kid like you is aware of our mercenary tradition, but I suggest you take that back right this instant. It isn't like those prim noble duels you're used to, and there are no representatives allowed." The scarred captain warned him brusquely.
"I proposed knowing exactly what it entails," Eitan responded with a raised chin. "Even if anything happens to me, I swear on the name of Reidar that you and your band shall face no consequences."
The man ruffled his hair with an exasperated sigh. "And how am I supposed to trust that? You nobles are well known for double-crossing as a pastime."
"Shall I prepare a contract then?"
The disinclined man lifted his head with a stunned expression. He scrutinized Eitan and realized he was serious. "... Why are you going this far?"
Eitan smirked faintly. "Let's just say it's the whim of a noble brat."
"Tch," He clicked his tongue as Eitan threw his own words back at him. "Fine, bring a contract outside, and let's do this." He gave Eitan a relenting nod before leaving the throne room.
The other man gave Eitan a disbelieving look before following him out. Once they were gone, Eitan turned to Farrel. "Explain the situation to Beren and have him write up a contract."
Farrel's lips pressed together in a tight line as he lowered his head. "... As you wish." His steps began hesitantly as he withdrew, but slowly firmed as he continued.
As Farrel made his way off, Aengus turned to Eitan with a pensive expression. "My lord, what is this circle that you've been speaking of?" He inquired with a tense curiosity. He may have no notion of what this circle was, but the atmosphere when it was brought up told him it wasn't anything so simple.
"You'll find out soon enough," Eitan didn't answer as he knew Aengus would ardently attempt to talk him out of it.
Aengus showed a face of concern but bowed his head in acceptance.
Eitan stretched and stepped down from the platform. "I'm going to get changed."
"I shall escort you," Aengus promptly offered.
"Sure."
Eitan returned to his room with Aengus by his side. He then went in and changed into tight-fitting clothes that were still easy to move in. Once he was done, he opened his bedside drawer and pulled out a dagger, holding it up to the light. The sun reflected evenly off its surface, providing its high quality. He flipped it around a few times before tucking it into his waistband and gazing at his vague reflection in the window. The face that looked back was not the young noble lord Eitan, but a man with the visage of a king.