With her mother's breastplate slung over her back, and the sabre buckled on at her waist, Brigid stalked from the warren. Miraculously she'd found part of the stash of denars among the wreckage of the hovel and, after stepping into the sunlight, Brigid turned toward the market. The baker was owed a coin, as she'd promised, and she reckoned what was left would be enough to buy a horse.
Brigid knew she cut a striking figure walking through the market. The sight of an armed woman wasn't something normal, as far as she was aware, but she didn't particularly care, feeling ready to cut down any man who attempted to waylay her. The baker's eyes widened when she neared his stall, taking in her grim visage and new equipment.
"Child? What's happened?"
Brigid pulled a denar from her coin pouch and placed it on the wooden countertop.
"My mother asked me to give you this. But you won't see either of us again."
With that the teenager hurried from the stall, not wanting to draw out goodbyes or bring up things she wanted to repress, and made her way towards the stables. The horses for sale when she approached were a mix but she was drawn to a sleek courser, stroking the swift creature's neck, before glancing at the nearby stablehand, an eyebrow half-raised in question.
"The master says 600 denars but..."
The stablehand, a boy barely thirteen, went quiet as Brigid began counting out the coins, wisely not trying to start haggling.
Guiding the courser under Sargoth's main gatehouse Brigid paused upon reaching the great field just outside the city. Dozens of mercenary groups were advertising themselves, for it was generally not safe to travel without escort, and Brigid looked at the myriad of banners she could see. Choosing a banner displaying a lion's head, the national animal of Swadia, she led the horse across the field. Her mother had been from that kingdom, not that Brigid expected Isabelle's name to be known, and she hoped that a Swadian would recognise her worth more than the Nords ever had. The cavalryman sitting on a stool beneath the banner, an identical symbol emblazoned on the shield resting against his left leg, cast an eye over Brigid, glancing at the horse following her when she approached and speaking quickly to get the first word in.
"Can you ride him?"
"I can. My mother taught me how to ride and how to fight."
"Very unusual mother you have."
"She was a sword sister from Swadia. I understand that that doesn't make her unusual."
The cavalryman laughed at that and picked up a lap desk, taking a quill and holding it above a piece of parchment.
"Your name then, for the records of the Leonine Knights."
"I am Brigid, daughter of Isabelle of Swadia."
---
It was an hour before the Leonine Knights departed from Sargoth, the three of them escorting a fat merchant and his cart of flax. It had been the third of the mercenaries, an aging crossbowman Brigid assumed was also from Swadia, who'd secured the job and he rode next to the merchant, crossbow astride his lap. Brigid and the cavalryman, whose name she'd learnt was Louis, flanked the cart as it made its way along the dirt road south towards the river crossing nearest Jelbegi. She vaguely remembered the road, from before Isabelle had settled in Sargoth, and Louis complimented her when she figured out the route the merchant had planned.
By the time the group had crossed the river though it was evening and it would be just as dangerous to continue on Jelbegi as it would to make camp. Louis had intended to leave the final decision up to the merchant but, irritated by the merchant's dithering and with the sun nearly set, he called a halt in a glade near the crossing. Dismounting the cavalryman glanced at Brigid as he removed a pair of bedrolls from the pack on his horse.
"You have a bedroll girl?"
Brigid shook her head as she slid from her courser as the crossbowman, Charle from the village of Balanli, started a small fire.
"No." She paused as a truth hit her, starting to shake as the adrenaline that'd sustained her since discovering her mother's corpse left her. "All I own is a horse, a blade, a breastplate and a dress. I don't even have any food!"
Louis stepped away from his horse, throwing a bedroll at Charle, and took a step towards Brigid.
"What makes a girl buy a horse and leave a city but not buy any food? What were you running from?"
"My mother was murdered. I couldn't stay in Sargoth after that."
Louis sighed as he laid out his bedroll, lowering himself onto it.
"Just know that you've signed up to a life of murdering or be murdered. Don't run away from any battle." Louis glanced at Brigid, still awkwardly standing beside her horse. "Let your horse down and sleep next to him. It'll keep you warm."
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