Episode 2: Rock Bottom
Reggio Perino cursed his rotten luck. Half his company were being picked apart by the crows, and the other half were no doubt halfway to the prisoner camps outside Ellis by now. As for him and his lieutenants, it seemed that Balbars the Hammer had some other plan for them. As far as Reggio could tell, in between concussions and burlap sacks on his head, they were circling around Grunwalder Castle, not far from where the battle had been fought. The Lion Throne’s disciples proved less steadfast and watchful than he expected, however…
Jeremus, once a priest before he took a fancy for mercenary work, provided a distraction while Reggio and his three other lieutenants escaped. When the hue and cry was raised, Jeremus himself slipped out…
Reggio had been right in his assessment. They were south of Grunwalder Castle, close to neutral Swadian territory. The Empire was occupied with its war against the Vaegirs and Ormeli to its east and south, and had provided succour and shelter for the Banditti in the past. Right now, though, all Reggio wanted was a drink. He set out for Vienna, capital of the Holy Swadian Empire, and reached the city at midnight.
It may have been midnight on a Tuesday, but even the über-devout Swadians know how to have a good time. Reggio made straight for a little tavern he was fond of for its low ceilings, prices, and morals. But a man can’t even have a quiet drinking-into-oblivion these days.
A group of bandits ambushed Reggio just outside the tavern, and he was forced to cut them down with his trusty sabre (thankfully he had liberated most of his equipment when he escaped). Blood-letting on an empty stomach and alcohol-free veins didn’t do anything for his bad mood, and when he saw the wall-faced barmaid who had replaced that lusty little piece who was here last time, he sank even further into despair.
Dismayed, Reggio ordered a firkin of ale, a leg of beef, and a cabbage, and sat down to his repast and sorrow-drowning. He had little money, few prospects, and a great desire for revenge. But then his luck changed.
He got talking to a ragged yet knowledgeable stranger, who was full of amusing anecdotes of his visits to taverns and brothels all over Calradia. It was a passing remark that cheered Reggio the most, however: the traveller mentioned that Juan Batista Loeher, pretender to the Laurian throne, was staying at the castle in Vienna.
Stinking of booze and looking slightly down-at-heel, Reggio made a fine display at the castle gates, telling the guards that he was Reggio Perino, famed soldier of fortune, and he was here for dinner. They admitted him, not a little warily, and there he was.
Juan Batista Loeher, in the flesh. And clearly a bit of a goth. God’s sake, man, hadn’t he heard of torches? Clearly ready to expound on his misfortunes at a moment’s notice with the most complete stranger, Juan launched into a diatribe the moment Reggio had introduced himself.
He explained that Queen Imelda, his sister, did not deserve the Laurian throne at all, and that he was the one who should be on it, by right of masculinity.
Reggio nodded fiercely and agreed like a fine toady. The idea of that abandoning bitch Imelda ending up with a slit throat was most agreeable. Putting on his finest brown-nosing act, he made his speech.
“I, Reggio Perino, famed soldier of fortune, victor of a hundred battles, will help you gain your rightful throne, Juan Batista Loeher! Got any more of this wine? It’s rather good.”
Juan was overjoyed, Reggio could tell: his face was twitching in what may have been an inward smile. Sombrely and earnestly, the pretender offered his signet ring to be kissed.
Courage and devotion, that’s right. Just what he’d told Queen Imelda.
Reggio agreed readily.
“Now! Where is this fine company of yours?” said Juan. “I wish to meet the men that will give me my throne.”
Ah.