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Third Person POV
The Hall of the Council was silent, illuminated only by the flickering of wall torches. Below the elevated thrones sat the five sellsword commanders, accompanied by their aides and the generals of the Qohorik, Norvoshi, and Braavosi armies.
The Norvoshi General slammed his fist onto the heavy oak table. "Damn it all! We lost four thousand men in that meat grinder today. You Qohorik bastards will be the doom of us all."
"We suffered just the same. This siege is becoming more trouble than it is worth," the Braavosi General concurred sourly.
"My lords, please, calm yourselves," came a smooth voice from the doorway as Taroh Eranis entered the hall. "I agree that we have faced heavy losses in this battle but so have our enemies. I believe that an accord for peace may soon be reached with the Empire. Until then, please, eat to your hearts' content. Drink until your minds are rid of the horrors witnessed today."
The generals grumbled but reluctantly took their seats.
Commander Braham stood up, his scarred face set in stone. "There will be no peace to be had here, Lord Eranis. I have only a third of my forces left, and I shall not put my men through another slaughter lest they rebel against my command. I request that you clear my payments for today's battle and bid me leave."
That immediately soured Taroh's placating mood. He stiffened, his hollow eyes narrowing. "You would run away from an open contract? That is not very wise of you, Braham."
"Wise or not, I have no other path left to choose. My circumstances demand I leave, or suffer mutiny," Braham sighed heavily.
Before Taroh could press the issue, a soldier hurried into the room, carrying a silver tray bearing a sealed parchment. He presented it to Taroh, who promptly slit it open. As his eyes darted down the page, his mood visibly darkened. By the time he reached the bottom, his face had contorted into a mask of rage, frustration, and utter helplessness. He crumpled the parchment, steadying his furious gaze on the table below.
Every eye in the room was fixed on him.
He let out a long breath, struggling to rein in his emotions. "It would seem... another Imperial Legion is marching for the battlefield."
Seeing the immediate panic wash over the room's countenance, Taroh scrambled to salvage the situation. "This means nothing! The Imperial Senate has been petitioned for peace, and a proposal currently stands to be debated. The march of this legion could very well amount to nothing once the motion is passed. Please, calm yourselves. The Romans will not launch another assault for some time. You can rest and recuperate. We will even go so far as to allow your companies to place your camps within the city walls for added protection."
Ana raised a sceptical eyebrow at his words.
Braham merely gave a hollow chuckle. "Within or without makes no difference when all will eventually be crushed under the heel of the Imperium. We have suffered far more than anticipated, and staying is merely prolonging the inevitable. To stay is to mark Qohor as our grave."
The other commanders exchanged grim expressions. "That settles it, then. We will not be fighting for Qohor anymore," declared a gruff man with a long black beard and scraggly hair. "The Howling Wolves are leaving. We have lost too many men and are unable to continue."
"How dare you, you filthy turncoats!" General Mor yelled, slamming his hands on the table. "You were happy to enjoy the merriment and hospitality of our city while the going was good, and now you cower at the first sight of true adversity!"
"Aye, I am leaving. It is better to retreat than to be ground into mud under the foot of Rome," the man replied bluntly.
"Dishonouring your contract will not bode well for your future employment, Yoren," Taroh warned, his voice dripping with malice.
"Mayhaps, but I need to be breathing to gain employment—a prospect that becomes exceedingly unlikely were I to stay and fight," Yoren countered.
"We will triple your payment immediately! We will even offer noble standing to those of you who stay and fight!" Taroh offered in desperation slowly creeping in his voice.
"No. Your promises of coin and nobility hold no sway here," Braham interjected. "The Empire will conquer Qohor, and then all your promises will be ash in the wind."
Yoren stood up and walked toward the heavy wooden doors, quickly followed by the other sellsword captains.
"Wait! You will not leave! Dishonouring your contract means we will pay you nothing!" Taroh yelled.
"We have already been promised half of what you are paying us by the Imperial Grand General just to walk away. Even if it is less than what we expected in victory, it is still better than losing our lives and having nothing." Braham smirked as he headed for the exit.
"You bastards! This will not stand! I curse you in the name of Akua! You will die! Do you hear me? You will die!" Taroh shrieked after them.
The room cleared out rapidly, leaving only the generals of the Free Cities and one lone mercenary commander. Ana smiled, having observed the entire debacle without speaking a single word.
"I will stay. But I have demands," Ana announced, her voice cutting through the heavy silence.
Taroh, now entirely spent of emotion, slumped back into his seat and sighed. "Name them."
"I want a Valyrian steel sword. I want triple my company's payment. And lastly, I want titles of nobility along with landed estates for myself and my companion, Marc," Ana stated plainly. Marc sitting beside her merely smiled.
"You dare extort us, you whore?" General Mor growled, his hand dropping to his hilt.
Ana did not even grant the general a glance, maintaining her piercing stare entirely on Taroh.
"Fine. But I have conditions as well. If they are not acceptable, then we cannot reach an understanding," Taroh relented, massaging his temples. Having a sellsword company the size of a legion would greatly alleviate the pressure.
"What might they be?" Ana asked calmly.
"You will get the sword, but you must marry my nephew. The title of nobility will be granted to you as a member of the Eranis family. We will give you and your companion lands for your troubles, along with the tripled payment."
Ana seemed to ponder the proposal before giving a sharp nod. "I can agree to those terms. But the marriage will have to take place after the war. And I want the sword right now, before the next battle."
"No. The sword will be given to you after the marriage ceremony. If you wish to claim it now, then you must marry my nephew presently as well," Taroh countered smoothly.
"It seems we have a disagreement, then. How about you give us half our tripled payment now as a show of good faith?" Ana proposed.
"That can be arranged. On the contrary, we will give you the full payment upfront, and an additional five thousand Swarnas for each of the sellsword companies you manage to convince to stay," Taroh offered.
Ana smiled at that. "We have an accord, then."
Taroh forced a smile, raising his silver wine cup. "To our partnership."
"How exactly do you plan to bring the others back into the fold?" General Mor, who had been observing the extortion quietly, finally asked.
"Oh, I have my ways to convince them," Ana said, a dark, dangerous gleam flashing in her eyes.