Chapter 937 - 936
Every ninth day, the guild rankings at Kestrel's Reach were updated.
And for the past eleven years...
Roderic Kade had attended every single Posting.
Not because he needed reassurance.
The Ironclasp Company had occupied the top position on the Roll for six consecutive years.
Its place wasn't in danger.
At least, not today.
But reputation wasn't maintained through victories alone.
It was maintained through appearances.
A Lord-Marshal who suddenly stopped showing up to witness his own company standing at the top invited questions.
Questions became rumors.
Rumors became opportunities.
And opportunities had a way of becoming rivals.
Kade preferred preventing problems before they existed.
The Tally-Master's Courtyard was already crowded when he arrived.
Mercenary captains, quartermasters, guild clerks, caravan brokers, and curious townsfolk gathered beneath the towering Wall of the Roll.
The monument stood nearly three stories high.
Hundreds of slate tiles covered its surface.
Each tile bore the carved name of a registered mercenary company.
Above the wall, several stone masons worked from wooden scaffolding, ready to shift tiles as soon as the official standings were announced.
Fresh blank tiles waited nearby in stacked crates.
Companies vanished often enough that replacements were always needed.
A Roll that took weeks to update was worthless.
Reputation lived in the present.
Kade stood quietly near the front.
As always.
His eyes drifted naturally toward the very top.
IRONCLASP COMPANY
He studied the tile for a brief moment.
Six years.
The same position.
Comforting.
Dangerous.
Thirty years in the profession had taught him that nothing remained at the top forever.
He could still recite every company that had once occupied that first position.
The Crimson Banner.
Black Pike.
Stone Griffins.
Red Torrent.
Eleven companies in total.
Every one of them had believed their reign would last.
Every one of them had eventually disappeared.
Kade remembered every name deliberately.
Forget the fallen...
Become the next.
"Tally begins."
The quiet voice belonged to Hedda Roswen.
She stood beneath the wall with a leather ledger tucked beneath one arm.
Unlike many officials, she wasted neither words nor ceremony.
She simply opened the ledger.
Raised her voice.
"Ironclasp Company."
The courtyard settled into silence.
"Two hundred and eleven completed contracts."
Her eyes moved down the page.
"Four declined for cause."
A pause.
"Zero abandoned."
She looked toward the masons.
"Standing confirmed."
One mason tapped the topmost tile lightly with his hammer.
No movement required.
"First position."
No applause followed.
None was necessary.
Everyone had expected it.
Kade inclined his head once.
Then continued listening.
The Posting always mattered.
Even when nothing changed.
"Sable Wolves."
"Standing confirmed. Second."
"The Greyfang Company."
Roswen glanced briefly upward.
"Advancing to third position."
A ripple of murmurs spread through the gathered captains.
Kade wasn't surprised.
Greyfang had recently completed an escort through the Ashreach Hills.
Half the region considered the route cursed.
The company had lost six veterans.
But they'd delivered every caravan intact.
In mercenary circles...
Success mattered more than survival.
Beside him, someone clicked their tongue.
"Expensive promotion."
Kade didn't bother looking.
"Worth every funeral."
The unknown captain gave a quiet grunt of agreement.
Roswen continued reading.
Names rose.
Others fell.
Some remained unchanged.
Eventually...
Her voice shifted ever so slightly.
Not louder.
Not softer.
Merely...
Less familiar.
"The Maclagan Company."
A few captains frowned.
Most hadn't heard the name before.
Roswen continued reading.
"Three completed contracts."
"No declined assignments."
"No abandoned contracts."
She glanced toward the wall.
"Standing confirmed."
Another brief pause.
"One hundred and ninth."
Quiet laughter spread through the courtyard.
Not mocking.
Dismissive.
The sort of laugh reserved for companies too insignificant to threaten anyone.
Kade didn't join in.
He kept watching the wall.
Three contracts.
Interesting.
A company that failed outright disappeared from the Roll altogether.
Names vanished every season.
Abandoned contracts.
Unpaid debts.
Dead captains.
Disbanded guilds.
Staying near the bottom wasn't impressive.
But surviving there...
That required discipline.
"Three contracts."
The voice beside him belonged to Verrick.
Second-in-command of the Sable Wolves.
He folded his arms.
"How long have they been registered?"
"Eight months."
"You've been watching them?"
"I watch everyone."
Verrick chuckled.
"Three jobs in eight months isn't exactly inspiring."
"No."
Kade's eyes remained fixed on the wall.
"But all three were completed."
"So?"
"No refusals."
"No abandoned contracts."
"No disciplinary marks."
Verrick shrugged.
"Small work."
"Every company's first contracts are small."
Kade had repeated that sentence often enough over the decades that it no longer felt like advice.
Only fact.
"The important question isn't how small the first contracts are."
He finally looked toward Verrick.
"It's whether the company still exists a year later."
Verrick followed his gaze back toward the distant tile.
One hundred and ninth.
"So you think they'll last?"
"I think..."
Kade answered carefully.
"They haven't learned bad habits."
That was considerably rarer.
Most struggling companies accepted every contract available.
Too little pay.
Too much danger.
Eventually they overextended themselves.
One disastrous mission ended everything.
Patience...
Patience kept small companies alive.
The Posting concluded without incident.
The masons shifted several tiles.
A few companies climbed.
A few dropped.
One disappeared entirely.
Its tile was removed.
A blank stone filled the empty space until another guild eventually earned registration.
The gathered crowd gradually dispersed.
Captains returned to business.
Clerks hurried away with fresh ledgers.
Brokers immediately began renegotiating prices based on the updated rankings.
Kade lingered.
As always.
He waited until the final hammer strike echoed across the courtyard.
Only then did he turn toward the exit.
Footsteps approached from behind.
"Took an unusual interest in the lower rankings today."
Roswen.
She had already closed her ledger.
Kade smiled faintly.
"Did I?"
"You watched the Maclagan listing."
She wasn't asking.
"You noticed."
"I notice many things."
That much was certainly true.
Roswen missed very little.
"Small Highland company," she continued.
"The captain's accent gave him away."
Kade nodded.
"I heard it."
"They spent their first six months accepting contracts nobody else wanted."
"Because nobody offered better."
"Exactly."
Roswen adjusted the ledger beneath her arm.
"Recently, though..."
She paused.
"They've started refusing work."
Kade raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting."
"Low-paying jobs."
"Poorly supplied expeditions."
"Anything they judged unworthy of the risk."
"At one hundred and ninth?"
"Yes."
He considered that quietly.
Most inexperienced captains believed survival came from saying yes.
Veterans eventually learned survival often depended on saying no.
Roswen spoke again.
"Patience is uncommon near the bottom of the Roll."
"It is."
"Most companies there chase coin."
"And die doing it."
Neither sounded particularly pleased by the observation.
Simply realistic.
After a moment, Kade asked,
"The captain."
"Maclagan."
"What do you think of him?"
Roswen answered without hesitation.
"I think he intends to build a company."
"Not simply own one."
There was a meaningful difference.
Kade nodded slowly.
"Keep watching them."
"I already am."
"I know."
He stepped toward the gate.
"If their standing changes..."
Roswen finished the sentence before he could.
"I'll send word."
She wasn't smiling.
She rarely did.
Yet something about her expression softened slightly.
Approval.
Perhaps.
Or satisfaction.
Either way...
She understood exactly why he'd asked.
The two parted without another word.
As Kade made his way back toward Ironclasp Hall, he found his thoughts drifting away from the familiar comfort of seeing his own company at the top of the Roll.
Instead...
He found himself thinking about a tiny slate tile buried near the bottom.
One hundred and eight places below his own.
Most captains would never bother remembering a company ranked that low.
Roderic Kade did.
Because after thirty years leading mercenaries, he'd learned something few others ever did.
The future rarely announced itself from the top of the Roll.
More often...
It began quietly.
Somewhere near the bottom.
Where no one else thought to look.