"Direct as always." Barrick dismounts and removes his helm, revealing the same sharp features that mark all Vaelmark bloodline. "I bring word from the family council."
"I renounced my seat on that council."
"Some obligations transcend politics, Ressa."
The way he says my name, like he's granting me a favor by using it, sets my teeth on edge. But I wait. Whatever brought him this far from court comfort must be significant.
"Lyanna has been taken."
The words hit like a crossbow bolt to the chest. My younger sister, barely eighteen and sheltered by family wealth all her life. Sweet, trusting Lyanna, who writes letters I never answer and sends gifts I return unopened.
"Taken by whom?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
"Bloodfang Clan. Three days ago, during their raid on Millhaven. She was visiting the Temple of Healing, distributing charity funds." Barrick's expression suggests he finds such activities frivolous but politically useful. "The orcs hit fast, took captives, burned half the town."
Lyanna. Gods damn it.
"Ransom demands?"
"None yet. Intelligence suggests they're holding her at their mountain stronghold, along with other high-value captives. The family council believes this is preparation for a larger political gambit."
"What kind of gambit?"
"Unknown. But Lord Threnwick has authorized whatever resources are necessary for her recovery." Barrick's tone shifts, becoming more formal. "Including reconciliation with certain estranged family members."
There it is. The hook.
"You want me to lead a rescue mission."
"The council wants House Vaelmark's expertise in frontier warfare. Your reputation with difficult terrain and hostile clans makes you the logical choice."
"My reputation as a sellsword who can't be trusted with family politics?"
"Your reputation as someone who gets results." His admission clearly cost him something. "Whatever our personal differences, Ressa, you're the best tactical mind our generation produced. Lyanna needs that expertise."
Lyanna, who wanted nothing but to help people. Who believed in the noble ideals I abandoned.
The smart play is obvious. Demand an enormous fee, negotiate terms that benefit my mercenary company, treat this like any other contract. Keep emotions out of professional decisions.
But the image of my sister in Bloodfang hands, terrified, probably hurt, definitely confused about why anyone would want to harm her.
The same rage that got me exiled.
"Payment?"
"Full restoration of your family status and holdings. Plus fifty thousand in gold for expenses."
"I don't want family status restored."
"Then just the gold."
"What's the real reason you need me, Barrick? There are plenty of mercenary companies for hire. Ones without complicated family histories."
He's quiet for a long moment, studying the horizon where Bloodfang territory begins. When he speaks again, the political polish has worn thin.
"Because the Bloodfang raids aren't random. They're coordinated. Strategic. Someone's organizing them, and whoever it is knows our standard military responses." He meets my eyes. "We've lost two rescue attempts already. Good people. Professional soldiers."
Two failed attempts. Which means this isn't a simple smash-and-grab mission.
