Squad Games [Squad Building LitRPG] [Book One Complete]

MERCS:

Wilson 'Twerk' Turk | Sharptooth | Wynter Blair | Raimy 'Rake' Molleker | Chinara 'Vixen' Makinde | Alfie 'The Guvnah' Goodfellow | Georg 'The Hoffmeister' Hoffman | Hubert | Bletcher | The Harvester

On an overcast early morning, Chinara arrived in the yard of The Smashed Marbles with Wynter and Raimy. Alfie was already there, talking quietly with The Harvester and Bletcher.

"He seems able to get on with everyone," she noted.

"I should say," said Wynter, with a knowing grin.

One didn't need to be a genius to work out what Blair was getting at. "You and Alfie?"

"Yes. Sorry, I know you like him. It just kind of happened."

He didn't waste much time. "It's absolutely fine. Well? Are you going to share the details?"

"Let's just say, he was very thorough."

"Eww," said Rake, acting like he was going to be sick.

"Sorry Raimy," Wynter said sharply. "Are we talking about someone else's sex life for a change?"

"Huh. I've certainly got nothing to talk about."

"That's not true," Chinara said. "I hear wedding bells will soon be ringing."

Rake scowled. "You really think I'm getting married?"

"Well, seeing as how you've agreed to wed Clara Foberoy," said Wynter, "and a church has been chosen and a date set, you can forgive people for thinking that."

Vixen looked from one to the other. "But you're not?"

"No way. I needed this mission to get out of Avolo without arousing suspicion. Stiff Sauer and Urkal Foberoy can go to Gehenna. I'm done being pushed into marriage. I'm done with the Rotten Apples."

Chinara struggled to understand. "And Clara?"

"What about her?"

"Does she know?"

"She will soon enough. When I don't come back."

"I don't believe you. And you knew about this Wynter?"

"I guess."

Raimy gave Blair a dirty look. "Come now, Wynter. Blurt it out. Enough of making me look like the villain of the group."

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Chinara looked at her, waiting.

"Alright. I'm leaving the Apples, too."

"Why?"

Wynter pursed her lips. Chinara almost believed she looked shamefaced, except that as far as she knew, the Blairs had no shame.

"Raimy worked it out. That little bitch Ashlyn Sawrey was hanging around him in Avolo at just the same time as Rylan was killed. I always knew Izil had help. Remember back at the farm, when that princess caught her?"

Chinara's eyes widened. "That was you?"

"She had it coming."

Chinara was disgusted that her friend would do such a thing. "She was your crewmate."

"Yeah well. Not any longer. Like I said, I'm leaving."

Chinara shook her head. "I don't believe you. The pair of you."

"Yeah well, sorry to let you down, Miss Perfection over there. But someone kills my family, I get revenge. That's how it works."

"That includes Stiff, does it?"

"One of these days."

Chinara looked at Rake, who just shrugged. It was as if a veil had been lifted from her eyes, and she suddenly saw them for who they were. Both insane, in their own ways.

Wynter sighed at her. "No need to fucking cry about it, Vixen. No one's asking you to come with us."

"Good. Because I wouldn't if you did."

"Fine. I'm sure we'll get by without someone slinging stones. Just make sure you don't get captured without us."

"I was with you when I got captured, remember? Fat lot of good you did for me."

"Fuck you, Chinara. Don't blame us."

Chinara stormed away before worse was said. She joined Alfie.

He glanced at her furious expression. "Everything alright?"

"I'll tell you later."

***

Vixen joined their little group. They still had to wait for a few more crewmates to arrive before Bletcher could use the staff to transport them.

He stole glances at the Alinko woman. He didn't really like women the same way as other men did. Sometimes he wondered whether the gods had removed that desire from him at the same time as they took his arm.

There was something different about Vixen, though. Maybe it was the ebony skin. And the leather. He reached into a pocket of his cloak and withdrew a special gift he'd made for her. But the woman was deep in conversation with The Guvnah. It seemed important, and private.

He sighed. He was too shy to interrupt and offer her his gift.

He turned to his other side, where The Harvester stood in companionable silence. "I have a gift for you."

The Harvester eyed the item. It was made from straw and mud, and other items Bletcher had found. His eyebrows raised. "A gift from the gods?"

Bletcher supposed that was true. "Yes. And from me."

The Harvester took the gift reverently.

Bletcher held out his hand. "That will be two pence."

"I see." The warrior rummaged in his travel bag until he found the two coins, pressing them into Bletcher's outstretched hand. He then retrieved a tool from his bag that looked like a small spade. "Let us commune with the gods now. There is a stream down the side of the inn, where they fetch their water."

Unwilling to refuse and intrigued by the idea of communing with the gods, he allowed The Harvester to lead him down to the small stream. The Livanian warrior sat on his haunches and began to dig a hole next to the stream, piling up the dirt next to it. He was soon done. It was neither deep nor wide, yet The Harvester looked pleased with his work.

He placed Bletcher's gift inside. "Well?" he said.

Bletcher didn't have the slightest clue what was happening. But it wouldn't do to let The Harvester know that.

"The coins?" said The Harvester.

With a sinking feeling, Bletcher understood what was required. He would have enjoyed spending that money. But pleasing the gods was more important than material things. He placed the coins with his gift.

The Harvester nodded with enthusiasm at the pile of dirt.

Bletcher pushed it back over the hole. He paused to wipe the wet earth onto his face and into his beard and hair. When he was done, The Harvester flattened it down.

"I think the gods will be well pleased," said The Harvester. "May they grant us their favour when we find our undead enemies."

"The gods will do as they will."

"True. We are merely their vessels. I am pleased to have spent this time with you, Bletcher."

Bletcher thought about that. It had, he supposed, been a satisfying start to the day. "Me too."