Carlo dressed himself in his finest outfit for his first day as Count of Ijssel. He'd never been a particularly large man. His father had died in his thirteenth year, just as he had started growing into manhood, leaving his mother and him little enough money as it was. Ironically, it had been Sartosan Pirates that had done him in, the loss of his ship and cargo had wiped out much of the family finances and the poorer diet that had ensued had stunted Carlo's growth. His father had been over six feet tall, and Carlo was only five foot nine inches. While others, such as Stanislaw Karolski of the Beluga were built like classical statuary, Carlo was wirier. He'd learned to use speed and skill to overcome that deficit.
Another way he'd learned to cope was with clothing. Certain colors and styles would hide your body movements and confuse opponents. Cloaks were a good way to do that, as were buff coats. That wasn't what he wanted today though. Instead of the red leather buff coat and red padded leather jerkin he wore at sea or for duels, he wanted to stand out. Peacocking wasn't something he liked to indulge in normally, as it was a ridiculous fashion meant for those who were insecure with who they were. He much preferred to use his natural charisma and charm to win over people. Here, however, it might cause potential political rivals to underestimate him. For those who were already inclined to look at him favorably for his rescue of the town, it would only enhance his mystique as the borderline pirate-turned-hero of Ijssel. Both were all to the good.
Accordingly, a slashed doublet in crimson and gold, Myrmidian Colors, and decorated with brocade sunbursts covered his torso and arms. A wide-brimmed cavalier hat with a crimson plume and blazing sun cockade sat upon his head. Belted at his waist were a cavalry saber and naval dirk. The belt they hung off of was secured by a brass belt buckle with a sunburst motif. Knee-high Cavalier Boots and slashed pantaloons in crimson and gold colors rounded out the outfit. Looking at himself in the silvered mirror, Carlo judged himself sufficiently ridiculous-looking that only professional mercenaries and foppish nobles would choose to match his style of dress. Either would suit his purposes.
"What are you wearing, Carlo? You're dressed like some of the more effeminate merchants in the Consortium my father worked with." Giggled Elena from behind him.
Carlo turned and smiled at his redheaded new wife. "Or one of the more hardened mercenaries running around Tilea or Estalia. Either would suit my purposes just fine." He replied.
"Do Mercenaries in Tilea and Estalia truly dress like that? Most of the ones we get around here prefer leathers." Frowned Elena.
"And in the Empire as well. I am given to understand Kislevite mercenaries prefer fine furs, while Dwarven Mercenaries go all in on jewelry. Arm-rings, beard ringlets, torcs, and so on." Nodded Carlo.
"Why?" Questioned Elena, a look of confusion settling upon her freckled face.
"The more hardened a mercenary gets, the more acutely aware he becomes that death could come for him at any moment. They become accustomed to wearing wealth on their person whenever armor is not required. I should know, why do you think I switched to privateering?" Asked Carlo.
"You were a mercenary?" Pressed Elena.
"I was a lieutenant in Carandini's Curriassiers for two years before Carandini and most of the regiment got chewed up outside Pugno by some Ogre Mercenaries in the pay of Pugno. Then I did a 2-year stint with Garibaldi's Gunners until the Regiment decided to take a contract with Mousillon to help clear undead around a patch of ground that the Count of the City of Mousillon wanted to reclaim for his use. I didn't fancy going to a Zombie-infested swamp like Mousillon and cashed out my contract. Good thing too because the regiment was turned away from entering the port of Mousillon by ships of the fleet of Lyonesse. I guess Old Duke Claudemonde didn't want his southern neighbor hiring any mercenaries or he might get ideas about reclaiming lands that were annexed by Lyonesse some six-hundred-odd years ago. Stuck in transit and unable to take a new contract, Garibaldi's Gunners was forced to disband after returning to port in Bibali. Nobody else was able to cash out their contracts." Explained Carlo.
"So where did you go after you left the Gunners?" Queried Elena.
"I took a commission as the Captain of the First Company of Ferretti's Foot. I served with them for two years, fighting Orcs and Beastmen in the Empire. Eventually, we made our way to Marienburg and were hired to fight a Norscan attack on Aarnau. We almost lost that one." Shuddered Carlo.
"You were at the Siege of Aarnau?" Asked Elena, shocked.
"I was. It wasn't my favorite battle. Third Company was lost almost to a man in a Norscan ambush. The sole survivor was their ensign, Niccolo, a young kid of fourteen who escaped with the company colors and news that the Norscans had a sorcerer among them. Aarnau hired two more regiments, a Kislevite regiment and an Imperial one that was a fortnight's march from the city, as well as a wizard from Marienburg. While they were on the way, we had to help the Militia of Aarnau hold off the Norscans. We bled them as much as we could but were eventually forced back to the City. The Norscans set up camp outside and began attacking any shipments of food or drink coming in. Aarnau had been prepared for a siege, but the sorcerer used some type of ritual to spoil most of the rations in storage. We were forced to close down all the inns and confiscate what stocks they had that weren't spoiled in order to make it work. Even then, by the time the reinforcements arrived to relieve us, we were down to half rations." Uttered Carlo, staring off into the middle distance.
"I'd heard that Aarnau was a crushing victory and that an entire Norscan Warband was killed, including a sorcerer. I'd even heard that a wealth of goods looted from various raids and attacks on shipping had been recovered. I didn't realize that getting to that point had been so horrifying. My father had already set us up in Ijssel by then, though, so I only heard what happened secondhand." Responded Elena.
"It was a crushing victory. Commander Ferretti himself slew the Norscan Warleader during the sortie. The Wizard and Sorcerer dueled each other magically, and the newly arrived regiments ensured they couldn't escape being cut down like the mad dogs they were. Unfortunately, I was laid up with taped-up ribs from a Norscan flail I'd taken to the chest the day before the relief force arrived. Thankfully, a Shallyan Priestess that had come with the relief force managed to heal me up in time to join the attack on the Norscan ships the day after the siege broke. I was able to share in the recovered loot. I vowed then and there that I would no longer be a mercenary. I cashed out my commission and bought the Colorful Raconteur from a Pirate Hunter in Marienburg who was looking to retire and set sail for home. Picked up a letter of Marque in Estalia and never looked back." Finished Carlo.
"So this outfit. You wore it as a mercenary?" Questioned Elena.
"I did. It's Myrmidian-themed." Nodded Carlo, posing for his new wife.
"You wear it well, my dashing husband." Grinned Elena.
"I should hope so. It cost a fair few Imperial Crowns to get this kind of luxury." Laughed Carlo.
"Still, I doubt many locals will recognize the style as anything but foppish, even if my Father's Merchant contacts would. I don't see what purpose looking like a fool in front of emissaries from our neighbors?" Questioned Elena.
"It will allow them to underestimate me so they report back to their masters that all is well and that they might continue to scheme. When they try to enact schemes aimed at undermining a fool, they will be in for a rude awakening." Shrugged Carlo.
"How sneaky of you." Remarked Elena.
"All warfare is based on deception, love." Responded Carlo.
"So, you're all dressed up, but court isn't scheduled for another six hours. What were you thinking of doing?" Questioned Elena, pressing her impressive bust into Carlo's back.
Carlo felt the characteristic stiffening of his loins as his new wife pressed into him. "I was planning to call a meeting of my advisors, but I think we can hold off for an hour or so." He grinned.
"Whatever shall we do to pass the time?" Asked Elena, impishly, showing a glimpse of bountiful, freckled, cleavage.
"I can think of a few things." Grinned Carlo.
The pair headed for the feather bed and were soon lost in a carnal sealing of their wedding vows.
They didn't finish for an hour. . .
XXXX
AN: This has been cross-posted to QQ, where the last bit of this chapter plays out in a more NSFW fashion. . .
As to the rest of the chapter, Carlo's past as a mercenary is one of the reasons Myrmidia had her eye on him in the first place, but big battles, even bloody ones, don't make an Exalt by themselves. You have to fight personally against something you have no way to beat on your own for that. . .
Also, eagle-eyed readers may have spotted a bit of dialogue about a merchant consortium in the chapter. Ijssel is a relatively new principality. Elena's Father carved it out of territory belonging to a pair of regional rivals and the Blue Face Orcs. The Town Itself is only around 20 years old and was built on the site of an abandoned Dwarven Fort from over a thousand years ago. Maartin van den Meer and his men had to clear the Fort of Greenskins as step number one of establishing the county. That's one of the reasons the Castle of the Count is such a tough nut to crack. It's a ruined Dwarven sea fort repaired by Dwarves from Barak Varr in exchange for literally all the heirlooms and treasures inside.
They didn't want the land. Too close to the Blue Face Orcs to hold on to for long.
Or as they put it, "Too many damned Grobi, not enough bullets!"
At any rate, next up will be the council meeting