New Tunes, New Winds

Lambert raised a hand to his forehead, massaging his temples as he felt the oncoming migraine worsening with every report laying before him. The writing blurred and he tried to blink a few times to clear his eyes from sleep but it was useless. Lambert leant back into his chair, echoing the groan the old wood made under his weight. 

He knew managing a mercenary group was time consuming, costly, and included bureaucracy that would test his patience more often than not. The reports stacked on his table and he lost count of the many coffee stains that tainted the polished mahogany. At first he had used coasters, remembering that Corvan had always hated when people put cups and tankards on his working table without them protecting the wood, but at this point the upkeep of the expensive mahogany was the least of his worries. Corvan would have to forgive him. 

Lambert chuckled at the thought. The Band of Lions had been under his command for nine years now. The Merging and the preceding events had caused a fall out and most of the members abandoned their ranks when Corvan never returned from his last misadventure. So it was up to Lambert to take over if he didn’t want to lose what remained of his home. 

Now the Band resembled more what they were meant to be, before Rowan lost his heart and dedicated himself to some higher purpose. Corvan had allowed their leader to roam free, gather allies and more power than they ever cared to have, but the Band turned from a mercenary group into a gang of misfit idealists and Lambert had started to wonder what had happened to the men he had called his closest friends. His loyalty dictated him to stay and see their mission through, even if that mission had only led to ruin. He had put most of his efforts into untying the reputation of the Band from Rowan’s role in the Merging but he knew that some rumors would never die and he was done with letting the man taint any more of his own legacy.

Lambert looked up at the ceiling of his tent. The pitter-patter of rain against the red cloth soothed the ache in his temples a bit and the thoughts of closing his eyes to rest were incredibly tempting. 

“Captain.” 

Lambert tried to not let his frustration bleed too much into the sigh that escaped him when a soldier peeked his head into the tent. 

“Captain. Sir?” 

“Yes,” sighed Lambert. He straightened his posture and dropped his arms onto the table. A picture of perfect discipline and authority.

“The recruits you wanted to see have arrived, sir,” the soldier smiled apologetically. He must have looked as tired as he felt to have been granted that reaction. Lambert cleared his throat and bit the inside of his cheek. The pinch should be enough to wake him up more, even if it didn’t do his patience much favor. 

“Tell them to come inside,” said Lambert with a wave of his hand.

Two young men stepped into the tent. The first had red hair pulled into a short ponytail and shorn sides. His eyes darted around as soon as he entered, observant. Lambert felt something in him stir when he recognized the mischievous intelligence in those eyes. 

Behind the first man walked in another, taller, with a calmer presence even if his shoulders tensed when he caught Lambert’s eyes on him. He hid any emotion on his face carefully behind a pair of dark tinted glasses but a small twitch of his eyebrows revealed his annoyance when the first man didn’t stand at attention as they reached Lambert’s table. 

Lambert watched for a second, waiting for the second man to lose his patience with the other, dropping his gaze back on the papers infront of him. It took longer than expected and Lambert was about to say something when the second man finally snapped. 

“Andrik!” he hissed, making the other duck his head as if he was expecting a hit. They shared a quick look, before Andrik’s eyes finally settled on Lambert. 

“Sorry for interrupting your nap, Cap,” said Andrik, grinning widely. Lambert stared. The following silence was cut short immediately by a loud thumb and a pained yelp. 

Lambert almost laughed when the other man stomped Andrik’s foot before attempting to rip his ear from his head. Andrik yelped like a hurt puppy but his friend was relentless. 

“I apologize, Captain,” said the other man. “He meant no disrespect!” 

He continued pinching Andrik’s ear between his fingers as he bowed, before moving his grip to the back of his head and pushing him to face the ground.  

“Ethan and Andrik, reporting, sir. You asked to see us.” 

Lambert continued staring at them, stunned and lost for words. When he had read the report of their last mission, he had had a feeling of familiarity at the displayed recklessness. A young man who led his battalion headfirst into a mission that took others weeks of planning ahead and emerged victorious is not necessarily unheard of, but others have not done it in a way that so resembles Rowan’s old methods. Andrik, together with Ethan, and their group of adventurers had only joined the Band of Lions a few weeks ago and stories of their missions were already shared around every campfire. Now Lambert saw a man with Rowan’s mischief and a friend with Corvan’s loyalty bowing before him, and the feeling that he knew who these two were in their core overwhelmed Lambert. Rowan’s grin flashed in front of his eyes, and he felt the rush of wind pulling at his clothes as the sound of the airship turbines rumbled through his ears. 

He must have lost himself in his thoughts. Ethan was looking up at him from above his glasses, awaiting a response and Lambert cleared his throat.

“At ease. We don’t need all that formality.” 

Ethan released Andrik from his merciless grip and both snapped upright. Lambert was sure that Andrik had tried to kick Ethan’s shins, but he could see no traces of mischief on any of their faces. 

“I got some complaints about you two from your superiors,” said Lambert, pulling a few sheets of paper in front of him. He frowned when he couldn’t make out the words at first glance and had to pull the paper away from him for the writing to appear clearer.

“Shows reckless behaviour, disobeys authority, unable to cooperate…” Lambert lists a few further points on the list of complaints, before looking at Ethan who has not eased from his position at all. “Nagoria said you overwrote command, called out the previous battalion leader and said, and I quote; every clever thought you had, must have died alone and afraid.” 

Lambert peered over the paper and continued with a smirk, “at this point you can only impress me.” 

Andrik snorted loudly and earned a glare from Ethan.

Lambert sighed, dropped the paper back onto the wooden table and crossed his arms in front of his chest. 

“The Band is no place for heroics,” he said, his tone becoming serious. “If that is what you were looking for you’ll be better of finding it out there as adventurers, not as part of my mercenary group.”  

Ethan seemed to shrink into himself at the reprimand. Andrik had been watching, the comments about his lack of respect towards authority didn’t faze him at all, but as soon as Ethan was directly addressed, his wandering attention snapped to his friend. Lambert perked up at the challenge he saw in his eyes when he finally looked at him. 

“We don’t want to be heroes,” Andrik put his hands on his hips and transferred his weight onto his right leg. He looked relaxed, completely at home in a place that was so clearly above his current station.

“What we want is to be useful; the only thing we can do good is fight and you pay well enough to risk our lives from time to time.”

The cocky smirk returned to his face and Lambert frowned. 

“Not our fault some of the people you employ are as intelligent as a chicken with no head.” 

Lambert barely noticed the resignated sigh coming from Ethan as he focused his entire attention on Andrik. The tent grew noticeably colder, the shadows casted onto the cloth grew bigger and every noise around them dimmed in the presence of Lambert’s anger. Silence was a weapon, one Corvan had demonstrated multiple times how to use it effectively. 

He watched as Andrik swallowed heavily, observed as the younger man realized that maybe the rumours whispered among other recruits had more truth to them than he would have liked. You don’t want to stand in the gaze of the Hound for too long. He will smell your fear, peer into your thoughts, and take you apart until there’s not even a shadow remaining of the man you once were. 

Lambert allowed the moment to pass, before he said: “Nagoria.” 

Both Ethan and Andrik jumped, none had noticed that she had been standing behind them long enough to witness Andrik’s challenge. She had put a hand on her weapon the moment the insult had left his lips.

“Take Andrik under your wing. Every morning before the bell rings he will train with you. Have the others of his battalion watch. Report back to me when he manages to draw blood.” 

With every word the grin pulling at Nagoria’s lips grew wider and Andrik’s face became paler. Nagoria’s training regimen was notorious even among the recruits who valued themselves on their strength. 

“I got you,” Nagoria said not blinking once while she stared Andrik down, who, for the first time since he walked into the tent, looked to be truly uncomfortable.

“Ethan. You report directly to me. We will go over your insights on our current formations and strategies. If you are as smart as you think you are, we will make use of that brilliance.” 

Ethan nodded. “Yes, captain.” 

Lambert looked them over and fought against the smile crawling onto his face. 

“Showboating is not a bad thing,” he said after a moment of thought. “If you can support it with true skill. You might yet be able to find a place among our ranks, but,” Lambert ran his thumb over the coffee stained mahogany, “Learn to listen.” 

The two men hurried outside the second they were dismissed. Nagoria threw him a warm smile before walking after them. There were a few words exchanged that Lambert could still make out, and laughter. Banter that had him smile to himself and he let the feeling of home wash over him as the voices blended into the night.  

“The moment for your dramatic entrance has long passed, friend,” said Lambert when silence had surrounded him fully. This time he dropped the pretense and let his voice rumble with exhaustion.  

A chuckle responded before a man entered through the layers of his tent. A ghostly echo followed right after, Lambert recognized him immediately.

“Long time no see,” said Ferwin, his tone dropped into sarcasm, “Captain.” 

“You never really were a member of the Band,” Lambert said with a raised eyebrow. His hand was close to his weapon and he let caution tense the muscles in his back. His eyes filled with a clear warning; careful.

The other man shrugged. “No, but pretending felt nice for a while.” 

Lambert smiled ruefully. Ferwin’s face was accompanied by memories that were not pleasant. There were some invisible lines drawn in the sand that both of them navigated in silence. 

Ferwin was the first to relax and the echo turned his back to Lambert before disappearing without a sound. 

“So… What brings you here?” The last time Ferwin had let others hear of him had been years ago and that only to claim no allegiances and no contracts. Only the wind knew where it would carry him next, everyone who went after his scent was aware of the danger he could become, and nobody had yet dared.  

Ferwin walked over to the board where Lambert had pinned a map of the Fallen Empire and its remnants. His eyes wandered over the Myridon Dynasty and its expanding borders and he flicked a finger against the purple flag Lambert had put over Myria.

“The world is getting fucked from all sides again. Many places where ‘heroes’ are needed.” Ferwin spat the word, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner that swayed his whole body.  

“So?”

“The Republic of Satrea is going to shits.” Ferwin pressed his thumb against the map, leaving a visible dent where the northern borders of Satrea were visible on the map. “The Abyss has claimed Cretara and its forces are spreading all over. There’s talk about a second coming of the fucking Hell-Steppes.” 

Lambert rested his chin against his folded hands and observed. He never liked Ferwin; he had warned both Corvan and Rowan against allowing a man who did not value loyalty into their group. Corvan had listened, always careful of putting his trust in anyone, but Rowan needed more men for his mission. 

In the end Ferwin lived, with no regrets burdening his shoulders and no ties to anyone but himself. Lambert wondered if that is why he stood before him now. A lone wolf who is looking for a pack again when the world needs men with purposes and ideals.

Both of them had lost their belief in heroes long ago and with it Lambert had lost a bit of hope that there is a purpose at the end of everything. That, after all, there might be a bigger picture they’d get the see when everything falls into place. Disbelief joined his thoughts when he realized that Ferwin might be different from him in that regard.  

“Have you ever heard of the Copper Phoenix?” Ferwin asked suddenly, turning to face Lambert fully. 

“A phoenix?” Lambert sighed. “Really?”

Ferwin laughs. “Not the animal.”

He turned back to the map and ran his nail against the lower edge of the paper. “A bunch of nice …assholes, Do-gooders.” 

Lambert felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. 

“They helped me out of a shitty situation. Might want to keep an ear on the ground for them.”

If that is actual gratitude he could hear in Ferwin’s voice, Lambert would have to re-evaluate what he knew of the man. The last nine years might have actually caused him to change. Lambert shook his head. Old dogs do not learn new tricks. 

Lambert was about to say something when a soldier barged into the tent. He was red in the face, out of breath, and hurriedly tried to salute when his eyes landed on Ferwin. Lambert raised a hand to calm the man. There was no threat here. 

“Captain.” The soldier took a deep breath. “I come with a message from the Emperor himself, sir.” 

Ferwin looked towards Lambert who nodded for the soldier to continue.

“We’re to abandon the mission of retaking his throne in Myria. Instead he orders to gather the troops and march to the Hell Steps.” 

“I better stick around for this,” said Ferwin and Lambert frowned. He could clearly hear the chuckle Ferwin tried to hide.