The Deal (2)
Four days after striking the deal with the quartermaster, a merchant showed up at the fort.
The man named Philip had a sly, rat-like look about him—shifty and cunning.
He claimed to supply the legion with spears, arrows, shields, and other military gear, which made perfect sense when I looked at his face.
A guy who charged exorbitant prices for garbage equipment? Of course he'd have a face like that.
They say a man owes it to himself to take responsibility for his face by age thirty.
I asked Philip how to make contact with the barbarians.
Surprisingly, the meeting spot was a low-lying clearing just 600 meters from our border fortress.
We sometimes used it for training, so I was more than a little shocked to hear they did their smuggling deals there.
"You really make contact there?"
"Yes, sir. Light a fire, and they'll send a warrior over to check it out. That's the custom."
I nodded. That explained why I'd spotted a few barbarian warriors lurking around during a night encampment exercise once.
Once the talk wrapped up, I called for Rikius, the young and upright decurion among my officers, and told him to bring six soldiers.
Unlike the others, he wouldn't touch even petty graft, so I trusted him with this deal.
The six soldiers, decked out in our finest selected gear, stood before me with Rikius.
We didn't have many horses, but even with the small number, they looked sharp enough.
I handed Rikius the unit standard and sent them off.
I could've gone to the clearing myself as the man in charge, but the risks were too high.
Acting recklessly like that wouldn't do for an imperial officer commanding a border outpost.
After Rikius and his men left, I spent a good while up on the watchtower, scanning the distant clearing.
About an hour later, Rikius returned with a sour look on his face.
"Did it go smoothly?"
"Well, that Philip guy talked a good game. But those barbarians were arrogant as hell. They looked down on us like we were nothing, and a few even picked mock fights right in front of us."
"That's how the barbarians have been lately. Did Philip head out?"
"Yes, sir. Right away. Come to think of it, the bastard's pretty rude too. You're the one who greenlit the deal, and he just leaves without a word."
"Whatever. No point in getting another greeting from a merchant like that. Now that we've opened trade with the barbarians, they won't threaten us outright anymore."
"Hard to read those bastards."
"They'll stay quiet for a while, at least. Which brings me to this: I need to go on a trip for about a week."
"A trip, sir?"
"You'll take command of the unit while I'm gone."
"Me?"
"You're up for centurion soon. You need experience like this. A guy who doesn't flinch at barbarians, worrying about running the unit for a few days? Should I laugh?"
I grinned, and Rikius finally replied with a crisp, "Understood, sir."
The trip had come to mind while chatting with him, actually.
To resolve nagging issues like reinforcements—stuff I'd been pushing legion HQ on with no results—I figured going to Sian in person was the way.
Sending envoys a few times hadn't changed a damn thing, so I'd have to go whine directly.
Plus, it'd be nice to hold a woman for once and take a proper bath.
After sending Rikius off and turning in early for tomorrow's departure, a knock came at my door. It was Buck, the duty officer for the day.
He looked embarrassed as he spoke.
"Sir, there's a barbarian envoy outside. Insists on seeing you."
"Bring him in."
I was a bit annoyed but kept my patience. Couldn't go flying off the handle.
In a way, as commander of this frontier outpost, I represented the empire on the front lines.
Letting personal feelings stir up trouble in that position was asking for disaster.
Soon, a fresh-faced kid in his early twenties entered my room.
His hair hung to his shoulders, making it hard to tell if he was a boy or girl at first glance. He was pretty enough, but the dark stubble on his jaw marked him as male.
He glanced awkwardly around the room, spotted me, and bowed his head.
"I see the imperial centurion."
"Skip the formalities. Who are you?"
"I'm Halcon, second son of Chieftain Halcon. I heard your soldiers met with the Blue Bear Tribe today and rushed here to request a meeting."
"Chieftain Halcon? Never heard of him."
At my words, a flicker of displeasure crossed the young barbarian's face.
"He's the chief of the Black Wolf Tribe, who just settled at the northern forest foothills."
"Ah, I see."
I brushed it off casually, though inwardly I took it seriously.
It meant the number of barbarians right in front of our outpost had grown without us knowing.
Seeing I wasn't fazed, he shifted to a more aggressive tone.
"Our tribe has over 800 adult warriors."
"Impressive."
Only then did he relax a bit, a cocky glint in his eye.
"Doesn't that qualify us to talk with you?"
Fair enough. But cocky as hell. How had the empire sunk so low in their eyes?
I slammed the desk and stood, glaring at him.
"Before that, let me correct you on one thing. There's only one century here. But behind us is the legion—and 300,000 imperial troops. 800? You think that piddly number means shit in the face of the empire?"
He didn't seem too shocked.
Most barbarians knew the empire was vast. Still, out of courtesy—or whatever—he admitted he'd overstepped.
"My apologies. I was out of line."
"Good. So, what's your business?"
I cut to the chase; I didn't want to waste time.
"Let us trade on the same terms as the Blue Bear Tribe."
"Hm. Tricky. We've had dealings with the Blue Bears for a while, through contacts. You lot are newbies, though."
"I know. But we don't deserve worse treatment than them."
He argued they deserved equal terms by the law of strength.
The Blue Bears had been cocky too when we started trading, so it wasn't entirely unfair to let these guys—who hadn't pulled any stunts yet—in on it.
"I get your tribe's position. But trade has its order. And this isn't for me to decide alone."
He nodded as if he understood.
He wasn't completely unreasonable.
Makes sense; they wouldn't send someone to negotiate who'd blow the whole thing up.
"How about this? I'll talk to my superiors. If they approve, I'll give your side the word."
"Thank you. If you make it happen, we'll send 600 kilograms of tempered iron every month."
Lean and mean. And not a small amount—600 kilograms of tempered iron monthly.
I offered the young barbarian a handshake and sent him on his way.
That much iron could outfit recruits with plenty of armor, helmets, and arrows. I smacked my lips.
I left the outpost at dawn and arrived in Sian, the legion headquarters, late on the third evening.
Sian had grown alongside the frontier legion into a proper fortress city, with a decent civilian population inside.
Unlike the cold, stinking, cramped border forts, Sian had young women aplenty—many known as "flower sellers," or whores, but plenty of others too.
Mostly soldiers' families: wives or lovers of troops barred from official marriage. And daughters of old vets.
I headed straight for Rica's place, my usual spot. She'd drifted into Sian five years back, scraping by washing officers' laundry and such—a pitiful woman.
Her home was in prosperous, safe southern Gallas, but she'd fled north to dodge heavy taxes, lost her family, and ended up alone.
I knocked, and Rica opened the door.
Lush silver hair like molten silver, a small round face, sharp features like a careful painting.
To me, she was perfection. Her big blue eyes blinked as she gestured me inside.
"It's been a while."
"Yeah."
"Tea first?"
"You have tea?"
"Bought some two days ago. Felt like you might show up?"
She smiled as she said it. Obvious flattery, but it sounded good.
I sat on a wooden chair and sipped the herbal tea she'd brewed with care.
While I drank, she warmed bread. The fresh-ground scent hooked me right away.
Rica brought a tray with yogurt and bread to eat. Light fare in the capital, but a solid meal out here.
Once I'd polished it off, fatigue hit hard. She noticed I wanted to lie down and led me to the bed.
I buried my face in her offered thigh, caressing her face. As always, my rough, callused skin felt worlds apart from her softness.
Like the difference between peace and war.
I whispered to her.
"Missed you."
Her hand gently traced my lips and jaw. The soft touch sent a dizzy thrill through me.
She wiped my forehead, then pinched my cheek. The sting lifted my heavy eyelids. She eyed me suspiciously.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Then why so long between visits?"
"Sorry. I'm a soldier, you know."
"Just teasing."
She planted a light kiss on my forehead.
"How's Sian these days?"
"You know everyone's on edge since that incident two years ago. Lots of people leaving lately."
"Yeah, the city felt less bustling. You not scared, Rica?"
"No money to leave even if I wanted."
She gave a bitter smile.
True enough—leaving cost money too. Safety was for those who could afford it.
For her, living as empire's discarded underclass, freedom to leave had died the moment she arrived.
"Right."
I stroked her cheek.
"The border I guard is ironclad. You can count on it. Shouldn't you be boasting like that?"
She tapped my chest lightly with her small hand.
"Haha. You sound more the soldier than me."
She was so cute and endearing; I pulled her face to mine.
This young woman, over ten years my junior, had become deeply important to me. Even if I rose high, I'd want to take her along.
She giggled and kissed my lips.
"Guess that makes me one of your subordinates?"
"Huh. Maybe."
"Go on, give me a proper order. Like an imperial centurion."
"Alright. Orders for recruit Rica: No sleeping tonight. That's an order."
Instead of replying, she wrapped her pale, slender arms around my neck and nipped my ear.
"Then command me properly."
Her blue eyes sparkled.
I pulled the blanket over us as I held her.
(To be continued next time)