Aron Bloodaxe

By N G Daniels

The legendary Mercenary Axman has come to his calling once again. Aron Bloodaxe, The famous mercenary, signs on to an auxiliary army, in hope of fighting against tyranny, and to restore his friend’s bloodline back on the throne.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Feb 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781716071997

Book preview

Aron Bloodaxe:

The Art of War

N G Daniels

Copyright by N G Daniels,

2021

Distributed by: Lulu.com

Copyright © [2021] by [N G Daniels]

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-716-07199-7

DEDICATION

I want to dedicate this to Aaron Aguilar, who created the character while playing Dungeons and Dragons©. I also want to let him know that he is my brother, no matter what. Thank you, Aaron.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to thank my friends Roy, Holly, Cesar, Julian, Kevin, Doc Eddy, all of my game players - you know who you are – and, of course, family and other friends I cherish and for whom I am thankful.

In memoriam of my friend, Darren Klassen, who blesses me to this day. [1969-2019]. I thank you, Roy for allowing me to keep your son's memory alive.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1      1

CHAPTER 2      36

CHAPTER 3      60

CHAPTER 4      93

CHAPTER 5      155

CHAPTER 6      179

CHAPTER 7      180

THE ADVENTURES OF ARON BLOODAXE:

THE ART OF WAR

CHAPTER 1

Next, the large man seated at the stout oak table bellowed. His helmet was pointed with shiny, oiled chain mail hanging from the brim around his ears and underneath his chin. The large man’s beard and mustache were grimy with bits of food from the meal he had just eaten.

A man in a red cloak stepped up, the hood pulled over his head to ward off the cold rainy day, leaving him mysterious.

Name? the large man at the table asked with a monotone voice. He dipped a feather quill into an inkwell among the clutter and looked up expectantly.

Aron. Aron Bloodaxe. Aron gave a half-smirk from under the hood of his cloak.

Where do you hail from? the soldier asked as he scribbled Aron’s name into the hefty tome before him.

I am a traveler and a mercenary. I hail from nowhere, Aron replied flatly.

The soldier paused and looked up, eyeing Aron suspiciously. Time slipped away as the two men locked eyes with each other.

Where were you born? the soldier asked, finally breaking the silence.

The Kingdom no longer exists, but I will tell you about it. Aron half smiled as the soldier’s upper lip twitched in annoyance. I come from Ibyrathica.

The soldier grunted, Never heard of it. The soldier struggled with the name as he scribbled it down and proceeded to ask other questions, Have you soldiered before?

Yes.

Any leadership qualities? 

Yes. 

The soldier scrutinized Aron’s countenance before going on. Do you have any equipment, supplies, and a horse?

Yes, to all, Aron answered.

Mercenary, eh? the soldier asked as he put the pen down on the table. He then leaned back and squinted at Aron with one eye. The chair creaked and groaned with the soldier’s shifting weight.

Yes, Aron said flatly.

What brings you to His Majesty’s Royal Auxiliary?

Money. This time Aron said the word smoothly.

The soldier’s face softened, and he quirked his lips in thought, then looked down at some papers. He then sifted through them idly before continuing. Okay. You have to meet certain conditions before you can become an officer.

Agreed, Aron cut in.

The soldier blinked a few too many times. It was apparent that he was annoyed. As I was saying, you will be supplied with food and equipment, and are confined to the camp until further notice. Your skill testing and placement will begin tomorrow. As of now, you are mustered in as a soldier until your status is secured. Your base pay is one silver every fifteen days. Questions?

Aron stood silent.

The soldier paused a moment longer and then said, Get your stuff and take this letter to the gate. You will be directed from there.

Aron just nodded as he took the folded piece of paper from the soldier. Grabbing the reins of his horse, Aron headed for the camp’s main gate.

The shout of Next! bellowed again from the soldier. Aron smiled while the air of familiarity brought about reminiscence.

Aron passed the muster table and noted the soldier he had just spoken to. Aron guessed that the soldier was either a sergeant or maybe even a lieutenant. He was unsure because there was no visible rank on the man, and his gruff attitude seemed more like an enlistee. Aron ultimately decided he was a lieutenant because lieutenants usually handle intakes.

There was a lot of hustling going on around the camp.

The eight-foot perimeter fence was made of hewn trees lashed together with sharp points facing skyward, and the main gate stood finished with four guards and a handful of runners.

While Aron approached, two guards were wearing the same uniform as the lieutenant stepped up. Both crossed their halberds, halting him.

Aron presented the note to a third soldier, who was obviously in charge of the gate and stepped back. The guard took the letter and examined it before motioning to a runner. He ordered the runner to take Aron to the South Quarters. The runner nodded to the guard, then turned to Aron. This way, sir.

Aron followed the young man through the gate, and the two guards returned to attention and let them pass.

The camp was huge. There were rows upon rows of tents orderly lined up. Aron estimated over seven hundred tents with room for at least three men apiece.

There were areas where men were being drilled. A leader would call out cadence as the new men marched or engaged in weapons training in one pit and physical conditioning in another.

Cooking was done at the center of the camp. A large tent with several cooking spits surrounding it was full of activity, and several of the spits had different types of meat, each being rotated over the flames by maidens. Other fires had large cauldrons in which some sort of staple was boiling.

Aron could see the stables on the west side of the camp, up against the newly constructed wall. To the south end was what appeared to be the commander’s compound where the runner took him.

The midday overcast sky held in the heat. Most of the soldiers he could see were on the training grounds, learning to use the short sword and shield, archery, polearms, and hand to hand combat.

The southern portion of the camp was cordoned off as patrols walked the length of a makeshift picket fence.

The runner led Aron down a row of tents. As they passed by, Aron could hear some talk or snoring coming from the men within. A few men had also sat in groups outside of various tents, their words became hushed as the runner and Aron passed by.

They soon arrived at the officer’s compound and came to a rather large tent stationed at the opening in the picket fence. Aron and the runner passed into the tent, where the runner laid the note on a table. The soldier that was sitting there was madly scribbling away at some parchments and did not acknowledge them, but quickly finished up whatever he was working on and then looked up at Aron.

Hello, the soldier said and stood up to offer his hand. A new officer, I see.

Aron took the hand and gave the soldier a good, firm shake. Aron seemed to warm to the officer who stood before him, and he attributed this to the soldier’s demeanor.

"Yet to