by N. C. Reed
The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual names, persons, businesses, and incidents is strictly coincidental. Locations are used only in the general sense and do not represent the real place in actuality.
PARNO’S
COMPANY
N.C. Reed
PARNO’S COMPANY
By
N.C. REED
Creative Texts Edition
Copyright 2015
By
N.C. REED
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published by
CREATIVE TEXTS PUBLISHERS
BARTO, PA
www.creativetexts.com
Cover art used by license
Credit: Daniel A. Edwards
It's not what we planned Jabo, but it's a start.
Love and miss you.
CHAPTER ONE
“Well? Have you anything to say for yourself?”
Parno McLeod met his father’s gaze levelly, almost defiantly. He was more than accustomed to the older man’s berating and had long since lost his fear of such encounters.
Parno was the youngest of four children in the House McLeod, the ruling dynasty of the Kingdom of Soulan. His mother having died shortly after giving birth to him, Parno had for all his life been blamed for the death of Queen Margolynn McLeod. The fact that Parno had no say in the matter seemed to have escaped his remaining family’s collective memory over the years. Parno had grown up to the daily hatred of his both father and his siblings. His oldest brother, Memmnon, was the Heir. He was followed by the twins, Therron and Sherron. A mild contempt was the best Parno had ever managed to gain from any of them.
As a result Parno had grown up virtually alone in a palace surrounded by people who despised him. He had grown callous to their hatred over the years and to any import that his actions might have on his ‘loving’ family.
Parno McLeod was infamous among the soldiers of Nasil as one of the hardest drinking, hardest fighting men in the city. It had been said on more than on occasion that Parno would fight at the drop of a hat…or knock the hat from your head, if you were too slow in dropping it. All agreed that there was little animosity toward him, however. Parno always paid for any damages his brawls might cause and he always bought a round of drinks for all involved, win or lose.
It was such an encounter that had caused the meeting here today.
“Nothing I say will appease you, Father, and you and I both know it. Were it not this it would merely be something else that attracted your ire.” The retainers in the room stirred uncomfortably. Few had the courage to speak to Tammon in such a manner. Whatever faults Parno McLeod might be cursed with, cowardice was not among them.
“You impertinent whelp!” Tammon snarled. “Would that you had died in birth rather than your blessed mother, then I would not be saddled with your insolence! A drunken brawl with common soldiers in the Royal City! Could you possibly have acted any worse? Could you have somehow brought even more shame to the McLeod name?”
“Since I have been old enough to know anything, Father, I have known your desire that I had died rather than my Mother,” Parno replied evenly. “Indeed, you and my noble brothers and sister have made that abundantly clear to me over the span of my life. I assure you it is the one thing we have in common. Had the choice been mine to make, I would gladly have perished rather that the one person who loved me had lived.”
“Damn you!” Tammon screeched, his face red with rage. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner! It is you that has forced this meeting today, not I. With your drunken revelry and common brawling! Such behavior is far beneath a Prince of Soulan. I expect better of my sons. Even you.”
“It is a blow to my heart, Father, that my behavior has caused you such difficulty.” Parno’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. In truth, he didn’t care even a tithe about his father’s difficulties. He had decided long ago that his days of playing the beaten pup were at an end. He had learned to live without fear of his father or older siblings soon after he entered his teen years.
“Get out!” Tammon ordered. “Leave my sight while I retain the memory of your blessed mother and her love for you! Lest I forget it and deal with you as you deserve!”
Parno bowed stiffly and far less deeply than protocol required before he turned and departed the room. Tammon sat upon his throne seething with anger.
“Father,” Memmnon McLeod said from his father’s side, “you must not let him provoke you to anger. Physician Smith has warned you that such anger is. . . .”
“Oh be silent!” Tammon snarled, waving aside his oldest son’s complaints. “I have recovered my senses. I cannot help it if the very sight of him irks my blood.”
“I understand, Father,” Memmnon, who felt the same way, nodded. “Yet there is little more we can do, save banish him from the city and such an action would not be looked upon with favor.”
“I know, curse the luck! Is there not something he can do well enough that he can be given duties? Duties which, regrettably, would require him to travel? Travel as far from here as possible, mind you.”
“What duties would you risk in the hands of Parno, Father?” the Crown Prince asked quietly.
“I’m open to almost anything that removes him from underfoot,” the King retorted. “At least then his brawling and drinking and womanizing won’t be here right in front of us.”
“Well,” Memmnon said after a brief pause, “there is one project which I have been considering. One which would, indeed, require not only a great deal of travel, but would leave him permanently posted outside the city.”
“What?” Tammon asked, voice rising with hope.
“It has been considered for some time,” Memmnon said, “that we form a military unit from elements of the King’s Prisons. Men would serve their time in service to the King rather than in the cells of the territorial prisons. Such a unit would be ideal for breaking the Norland charges when war comes again and the men would be considered expendable at any rate.”
“A prison company?” Tammon asked skeptically.
“Essentially, yes,” Memmnon nodded. “It would require a leavening of real soldiers to provide security, of course, and it would take time to ready them for combat but it would be a job which took years. In fact it would never truly be finished. Even as some of the soldiers left the service with their time served, others would be entering the service at the same time. Of course, such a company could never be posted in Nasil.”
“No,” Tammon agreed thoughtfully. “No that would never do, having a company of prison soldiers in the Royal City.”
“It is but a thought, Father,” Memmnon said. “I have been interested in the idea for some months but with everything else that’s been happening I simply haven’t took the time to get it started.”
“Assign it to Parno,” Tammon said at once. “Give him the job. Tell him that you want him to have the chance to prove he can behave in the manner of a Prince and prove to me that he is of value to the realm. Anything like that. Just make sure that he leaves.”
“I will see to it, Father,” Memmnon promised with a smile. “Today.”
Later Memmnon summoned Parno to his office and greeted the youngest prince with a smile. “Thank you for coming, Brother,” Memmnon said, “Please, take a seat. May I get you anything?”
“Let’s get to the chase, Memmnon,” Parno said, though not unpleasantly. “I know you didn’t ask me here to exchange pleasantries. I also know that you dislike my company as much as our father. I’m sure my being here is keeping you from important matters of state.” Memmnon, as Heir to the Throne, was the defacto Foreign Minister for the King
dom of Soulan. Therron, the Heir Secondary, commanded the Soulan Army.
“Very well,” Memmnon’s smile faded. “I asked you here because I have an assignment for you. One that’s long ended, I’m afraid, and will require no small amount of travel. I wanted to stress to you that it would be good if you reel in your desire for questionable company and drinking to excess while your job carries you about the kingdom.”
“An assignment?” Parno’s brow creased in frown. “What possible assignment could there be that you would entrust to me?”
“That’s not fair, Parno,” Memmnon replied, his face showing hurt. “I admit I have never been over fond of you. I cannot help blame you for the death of our mother. I know it’s wrong of me, and I have tried to overcome it, but every time I see you I am reminded of her…or rather of her absence.”
“I would that she had lived as well,” Parno said quietly. “Would have been better all around had I been the one to perish.”
“I’ve never said that,” Memmnon pointed out.
“You've never had to,” Parno replied calmly, and Memmnon flushed slightly in anger.
“What is this job you would have me do?” Parno asked, changing the subject.
“It’s not a pleasant one, I’ll warn you now. But it is of some importance, especially in the long run. A new military unit is being formed from elements of prisoners from the Provincial King’s Prisons. It will be your job to select the men, and oversee their training and organization.” Memmnon handed Parno a sheaf of papers.
“You’ll find the information on the soldiers under your command in here, along with information concerning the most likely individuals to be acceptable to the program. The details of the program itself are in the folder. Familiarize yourself with them before you begin.”
“Prisoners?” Parno asked skeptically. “You want to make King’s Soldiers out of King’s Prisoners?”
“If possible, yes,” Memmnon affirmed. “We hope to ease crowding in the prisons, for one thing. To be honest, there are many men now in prison who have attributes useful to the crown. This is a way to get service from them while they serve their sentences. The Norland Army has far more resources than do we to draw upon, Parno,”
Memmnon added quietly. “We must try and use everything at our disposal.”
“And you just naturally thought of me, I guess, to lead this effort?” Parno’s voice betrayed his sarcasm.
“No,” Memmnon answered, surprising Parno. “I didn’t. It was only this morning that I thought of using you in this position. I suggested it to Father not long after you left, in fact.” Memmnon knew he was skating around the truth but didn’t want to tell Parno why the job was being given to him. There was no point in throwing oil onto an already burning fire.
“Get me from underfoot?” Parno asked, and smiled at the surprise on Memmnon’s face. Though the diplomat recovered quickly, the damage was done.
“That was the idea,” he sighed. “To get you and Father as far apart as possible.”
“Don’t pretend you won’t be happy to see me go as well, Brother,” Parno said.
Memmnon’s face clouded. “Not because I hate you, Parno,” Memmnon said quietly. “It is just that I have never been able to look at you, not once, without thinking of the death of my mother. It is painful, even now. I cannot help that.”
“How do you know, Memmnon?” Parno asked, his voice not quite hard. “I’ve never seen you, any of you, make the effort. I was offered no choice as whether to come into the world or not. You might bear that in mind once in a while. You all hate me,” the words grated passed tightly clenched teeth, “for something I had no say in. Now, as Heir to the King’s Justice, does that strike you as fair?”
“Life isn’t always fair, Parno,” Memmnon said quietly. “If it were, Mother would still be here, where she belongs.”
“And I would be dead,” Parno finished. Memmnon did not meet his eyes.
“Yes, you would.”
“Well, at least you’re honest,” Parno said with a sigh. “I suppose I should be grateful for that.” He reviewed the papers in his hands.
“Cove?” he asked, seeing the home of his new ‘unit’. “My headquarters will be in Cove? That’s not too close to Nasil, you think? I can ride that in two days, or three.”
“It was the site of the unit before you entered into it,” Memmnon said. “I saw no reason to change it.”
“Right,” Parno snorted. “Okay, Memmnon, I’ll take the ‘job’, but I have a few conditions.”
“Conditions?” Memmnon said, his features betraying a hint of anger. “Your King gives you instructions and you set conditions?”
“You can put away that dung,” Parno shot back. “This isn’t the act of a King and a Subject. It’s the act of a father who hates his son. So yes, the son will set some conditions.”
“Name them,” Memmnon said, his voice noncommittal.
“I want the original order extended to cover those hunted by King’s Warrant,” Parno said. Memmnon thought for a moment, then nodded.
“I will agree to that. The basic idea is the same. What else?”
“I want my ‘unit’ fully funded. Soldiers paid, descent quarters, good food. I want a King’s Writ to make sure I can get what I need.” A King’s Writ was basically a command from the King to offer any and all assistance requested by the bearer, with expenses paid by the Crown. King’s Writs were not that common. Memmnon studied his brother closely.
“I will see to it myself,” Memmnon said finally, “provided that you provide receipts for your expenditures. I will not pay for your boozing and brawling from the Royal Treasury.”
“No,” Parno agreed, “you won’t. I’ll pay for that, from the General’s pay you’ll be giving me and the allowances that go along with it.”
“Forget it,” Memmnon said at once. “I haven’t the authority to make you a General, and Therron would see you in Hell first.”
“I didn’t say anything about making me a General,” Parno smiled. “I said I’d be paid like one, including all allowances.”
Memmnon considered that. Generals in the Soulan army were well paid by anyone’s standards. Their allowances were almost as good. A building that served as quarters and office, a valet, a cook, a secretary, a personal physician and an escort. All on the King’s crown.
Parno had never been interested in the trappings of power. Even as a child he had been fiercely independent, relying on no one other than himself unless there was no possible alternative. His request for such things now surprised the Crown Prince.
“I will agree, except to the escort,” Memmnon said at last. “You already have a company of veteran soldiers at your command. That should be sufficient to get you out of any fights you find yourself in.”
“I do my own fighting, Memmnon,” Parno replied with a smile. “You remember that, don’t you?” The older brother flushed at that, remembering.
Memmnon had set his retainer, a veteran soldier, upon his brother one day in a fit of rage. Parno, fourteen at the time, had nearly killed the soldier and then administered a severe beating to Memmnon as well. Only the intervention of Parno’s own retainer had saved Memmnon from being crippled, or perhaps killed, at the hands of his enraged younger brother. Memmnon still bore scars from the encounter.
“Your other conditions?” Memmnon snapped.
“Darvo Nidiad is to be made Colonel and placed in command,” Parno said. Nidiad was Parno’s faithful retainer and the young Prince’s one true friend.
“That I can do,” Memmnon agreed. “Nidiad should have been Colonel long before now, anyway. Would have been, had he not chosen. . . .”
“Not chosen to remain at my side,” Parno finished the unspoken part of his brother’s sentence. “I’m aware of the reason he has been passed over. I am loyal to those who deserve my loyalty.” Memmnon chose not to respond to that barb. It had hit too close to home for comfort.
“Anything else?”
“No, I think that wi
ll cover it,” Parno said amiably. “Please make sure that the King’s Writ includes orders to the Prison Wardens. I assume that I’ll be able to hire or appropriate some suitable instructors for my new soldiers?”
“Yes, the Writ will cover that,” Memmnon assured him. “Submit your payroll each month. Nidiad can decide appropriate ranks for the instructors, but no one over the rank of Captain, mind you. Higher rank will require Therron’s approval.”
“Which I will never receive,” Parno nodded in agreement as he stood. “Very well, Prince Memmnon. I will endeavor to fulfill my duty to the best of my ability. Tell me true, though, Brother. It will not affect my decision. Is this a true and actual duty, or did you invent it to get rid of me?”
“The idea was presented to me over four months ago,” Memmnon told him. “I had not acted upon it yet. In truth I haven’t had the time but I was convinced the idea was worth exploring. Had you not received the project, someone else would have.”