Annabelle anchored in the port of Newchance on a windy afternoon. The mercenaries walked down the gangway led by Iesha, who's eyes were tired-looking, but calm. She barely got any sleep last night, but at the moment, she didn't mind that – she felt like it's easier to act relaxed in such an altered state of mind.

Around the port, some two-story wooden houses stood, twenty or so that were fully done. To both sides of the docks, as well as further inland, the rest of the town's buildings were under construction. The piers of the port led to a wider plaza, from where they had a good view of what seemed to be the central street of the colony. Settlers were hard at work all around town, carrying planks, banging their hammers, chattering; some of them paused in their tracks to watch the newcomers. Iesha noted a purple flag with several yellow stars on top of the biggest of the completed houses right across the plaza, it was waving intensely in the wind.

A group of soldiers were standing in line at the entrance of their pier, fifty or so men in brown leather armors wearing open-faced helmets and holding halberds. The mercenaries consisted of twenty-six people, counting Iesha. They were clearly outnumbered.

“So you really are the League of Bold?” asked the head of the guards, an eastern-looking man with a pointy black mustache.

“We are,” Iesha yawned.

“As far as my lord knows, Annabelle was stolen by Carlos Wayne. How do we know you aren't pirates?”

“I yelled out what happened from up there,” Iesha gestured towards the ship, “and you let us anchor. I figured you could make out my words, could you not?”

The man grimaced. “Hand over your weapons! All of you!”

“We're bloody sellswords, human! A sellsword without his sword on his side is a naked man,” declared a large, muscular reptilian mercenary with dark-green scales. His mates called him Gator.

“This is our town!” the man with the mustache stated angrily. “You do what you're told, or you can turn around and sail the fuck back where you came from!”

“On your master's ship? The one we just took back for him and brought here as a gift?” asked Iesha. “Relax, man! Just let us talk to Ike Lazarus.”

“He is coming,” someone said at the back, and moments later, the soldiers gave way to the minister.

He was a fat, bald, pale man wearing a purple, silky robe; his signature color, of course. His eyes were small, but quite lively, although they now had dark circles around them, suggesting the man didn't get the best sleep lately either. Nevertheless, as he took a good look at his expensive vessel, he smiled widely, revealing a set of almost unnaturally perfect white teeth, then he let out a wheezy laugh, slapping his knees. Iesha could feel that a lot of the soldiers eased up a bit too, not the moustache-guy though, who still watched them sternly from behind his master's back. That one will be trouble, the elf thought.

“Annabelle, my most prized ship! You really got it back for me!” Ike celebrated. “You're a brilliant, brilliant bunch!”

“My lord, are you certain it's them?” asked the guards' leader.

“Don't insult our guests, Fabio, of course it's them, the League of Bold. Who else could they be? Although... where is your leader, Bjorn? I was told he is be a big man with orange hair.”

“Unfortunately, Bjorn died in the clash against Carlos Wayne. I was second in command, now leader. Name's Iesha Silverlight,” the elf said.

“Silverlight? Such as...”

“I'm Neia Silverlight's sister, yes. Never was close to her though.”

“I see, I see. I did not expect this at all, for you to already defeat Wayne. What a pleasant surprise it is! You all are very welcome amongst out ranks!”

“We can keep our weapons, right?”

“Soldiers and warriors need their weapons,” the minister nodded, then turned to the elf again. “While your friends are showed to their tents, you should come with me. Let's talk inside!”

As Iesha walked past the soldier named Fabio, the man bumped into her shoulder with his. They both pretended nothing happened. Just when I thought I was rid of backstabbers...

For the past five days, while they were on their way here, Iesha took time to talk with every individual member of her newfound mercenary crew. Even if Carlos wouldn't have suggested it, she knew she had to earn their trust, and to get to know them as much as possible. Initially, a lot of them had some barely concealed disdain for her. Although sellswords are not the most loyal folks, she was still a stranger to them, one who fought against them and then got promoted to be their leader right after. She was a woman too, which some of the sellswords found extra insulting. But over the course of these stressful days, with a lot of effort to stay balanced between friendliness and assertiveness, she managed to break the ice with most of them, and by now, she felt confident that she can more or less trust them, as much as one can trust sellswords.

There were some serious obstacles to get here though, such as her having to kill two guys who tried to rape her, sneaking into her cabin on the very first night they were traveling together. The fact that she could defend herself while only suffering a scratch did make a bunch of the others respect her more. She also regularly initiated card games with her new crew, and throughout the first three days, she called in one men after another for a one-on-one conversation, inquiring about their backstories.

Some guys still definitely hated her. A group of four, specifically. Their ringleader was a man named Sven, a redhead born in the northern parts of Cesanitia just like their fallen leader Bjorn, in fact they were childhood friends. Sven was the real second in command of the group, so he deeply resented that Iesha was appointed as his superior, and so did his friends. They were vocal about it too, even if they said they won't protest. If the whole group wishes to obey an enemy whore, so be it, said Sven. Iesha of course had a bad feeling about that, especially after she was attacked the first night (even though those were different guys).

But after she expressed her worries to Little Borg, the Sven problem took care of itself – it just happened the night before they reached Newchance. Apparently, a long standing conflict somehow escalated between Sven and Gator (who was one of the first ones to get a liking of Iesha), and a drunken brawl erupted between their friend groups, which resulted in five men getting killed: Sven and two of his friends, as well as two of Gator's friends. Sven's last henchman did not participate in the fight, and he said he wishes for no trouble. He was a quiet, kind of shady older man, he barely talked about himself when Ieasha attempted to interview him, but he seemed relatively simple-minded, so Iesha did not really worry about him alone.

That is how things settled around her at last. But then barely having a day to mentally prepare herself for her next uncertain ordeal was not exactly plentiful. She questioned why she even signed up for something like this, why does she have this damn tendency of ending up in dangerous scenarios. Circumstances. It's just circumstances. Sometimes you get to a point in your life where not backing out just makes sense. It did make sense when she accepted this position from Carlos, and so she had to see it through. To be fair, a part of her liked it. Even now, sleepily walking through the plaza in Newchance followed by half a dozen armed soldiers watching her every step. Just like Borg, she felt satisfaction in winning on the “right side”. All she had to do now is win. And for that, she needed to relax. She is a mercenary now, one who is in a good position to earn this minister's favor.

“Sir Lazarus, what's with the flag?” she inquired. “I heard ministers of Midridge are not meant to have their own sigils.”

“Not on Midridge,” Lazarus said with just a hint of irritation in his voice. “There, I am a member of the ruling party, a neutral official. But out here...”

“You need to make a stance, with your pirate rivals nearby and all that. I get it. Probably good for the town's moral to unite below a flag.”

“Exactly!” Ike looked back at Iesha over his shoulder, smiling.

The building with the flag on top was Ike's home. It had five bedrooms, a bathroom, a spacious dining room with a long table, and a kitchen. As they stepped in the dining room, Iesha observed the quite kitschy interior: elaborate carvings on every leg of the chairs, purple tablecloth with golden edges, shiny silver cutlery that looked a tad oversized, a large painting of a majestic, old orcish-style castle inhabited mainly by fair human maidens.

The man offered her to sleep in one of the spare rooms, and Iesha accepted. They then sat down, and got served a bowl of fruit topped with cream, which was honestly a welcome sight – Iesha ate up gluttonously, then paused for a second, considering her manners, in the end deciding to continue in her honest way. She was supposed to be a ruthless sellsword now, so she though it was in character.

Fabio also sat with them, although he declined the fruit bowl. He crossed his arms and fixed his suspicious, thin eyes on the elf.

“So... where is Carlos Wayne now?” Ike asked at last. “I suppose you don't have his body, do you?”

“He took our own original ship.” Iesha barely stopped eating while she replied. “It was a chaotic clash. As you can imagine. So yea. He escaped with a few of his guys.”

Ike seemed a tad disappointed as he put his spoon in his mouth. He ate as slow as Iesha did fast, savoring every bite. “Oh well,” he sighed. “I guess fully getting rid of Carlos so easily was too good to be true. You still did well. How many did you kill?”

“Most of his men. Thirty or so.”

“He only had that many?”

“Apparently.”

“No hostages?”

“None. The battle was too heated for that.”

“How about... a mirror?”

“Mirror?”

“Didn't you find one on the ship?”

“Not that I know of. We looked through every corner. No mirror.”

“I see. So how many of you are left? I was told your League consisted of sixty men.”

“Originally. We of course lost a bunch too. There are twenty-six of us now.”

“Hmpff,” Fabio shook his head.

“Don't be like that, captain! They fought an unexpected battle against THE Carlos Wayne, and managed to get my ship back. It's still a victory on our end.”

“You bet. That Carlos guy is quite tough,” said the elf. “He took out a lot of us by himself. We did injure him though. Cut his leg, he was hobbling as he escaped.”

“Good! Good.”

Iesha finished her bowl, and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “So when are we gonna get paid?”

“Our agreement was a monthly payment per men, as long as I keep you hired. But considering your feat, I'm willing to pay you some extra up front.”

“Our feat, and the fact we lost some of our guys, right? You won't have to pay them now, so you can spare us some more.”

“Don't insult my lord, damn sellsword!” Fabio grinded his teeth. “He is a generous...”

“It's enough, Fabio! I'm not insulted at all,” Ike smiled. “I can tell you are a witty one, Iesha Silverlight. Nothing wrong with that. We need allies like you.”

“They brought only twenty men... that's barely anything,” said Fabio.

“Every soldier counts. It is true though that what I would really need is a proper army.”

“How much men do you have?” asked Iesha, blatantly avoiding even looking at Fabio.

“Only two hundred. Plus two thousand settlers, some of whom could probably fight, but they are no trained soldiers. It's not easy to gather a proper force as a minister, even if I have money. I'm hesitant to hire mercenaries, especially in greater numbers, although now it seems like it's not too bad of an idea,” he winked at the elf. “But the other ministers wouldn't like it, no matter how much I would swear I needed them only for my endeavours out here. What I need is allies, strong allies. Some who are truly invested in this settlement and its prosperity. Say... are you your sister's heir, by any chance?”

“No. Her daughter is, Erleen.”

“Could we have her support?”

“Doubt it. She isn't fond of me, nor was her mother. I'm an apple that fell kind of far from its tree.”

“I can see that,” Ike chuckled. “Neia Silverlight was a strange one on her own way, from what I heard. How did she even die, did she really hide a futanari in her mansion?”

Iesha shrugged. “I wouldn't be surprised.”

“Well... let's just celebrate this little victory for now! I'll send your reward to your men, along with food and drinks. And you, Fabio, you better make peace with our new friends! I want to hear of no dispute, you understand?”

“Yes, sir!” replied the soldier with an expressionless face.

 

That afternoon, Ike Lazarus opened the bottom shelf of his drawer in his bedroom, took out some heavy books, and grabbed the magic mirror he placed below them. He still hesitated, then turned the mirror slowly, flinching when he finally looked into it. But it was pure darkness on the other side still.

“C-Carlos Wayne!” he said, but there was no answer. He put the mirror down on his nightstand. His rival was injured and on the run now, as good as defeated, really. In which case, what does he have to fear? He shall leave the mirror here now, see if he can catch a glimpse of the man at any time. Yes. Even though the other pirates were still a problem, if Carlos is done for, victory will surely be his, so if he can figure out where he is running now...

He still ended up turning the mirror towards the wall at least while he slept... Then putting it back in the drawer. At least for the night. He will take it out again tomorrow.

Iesha too pulled out her own mirror that night from her side-bag. It was the one that Carlos got back from his dealer friend. She dusted it off with her shirt, then glared into it, seeing the interior of the captain's cabin of another ship. Nobody seemed to be around.

The elf lay down in her bed, sighing, scathing her nose. She grabbed the mirror again, and put it by her side, staring into it, thinking. Her bedroom's door could be locked from the inside, and it was. She was on the ground floor, right below Ike's room, as she calculated.

Just a few minutes later, Carlos returned on the other side, noticing Iesha after a bit of delay. He fluttered for a second, then smiled.

“Hello, Iesha. Are you in Newchance?”

“Of course.”

“Is everything okay? How did it go?”

“He put out his mirror,” the elf yawned. “I peeked into his room, it's there. You were right.”