The tavern was nameless, classless. Just a building with badly mortared stone walls, a knotty timbered roof, and liberal sawdust sprinkled across the floor. In a country that viewed ale and kvass as healthier and safer to drink than water, even a midsized town like Syvatlo consumed an astonishing amount of alcohol. At all hours, the tavern was crowded, drunks sleeping off their buzz atop low clay ovens that kept the cold at bay.<br/><br/>In this case, the tavern was more crowded than usual. Several tables were taken up by the officers of the mercenary company, surrounded by young farm boys looking for adventure and quick coin. It beat serving as a levy for one of the counts, by all reckonings.<br/><br/>The thin, scarred man, Stanislav, looked up and saw Katerina as she entered the tavern. Smiling, the man waved her over to the table he was standing next to. Katerina arched an eyebrow to see among the burly men a woman, just as weatherbeaten and tough looking as any of the men.<br/><br/>"You came," Stanislav said with a bright smile. "You see, Captain Livinko?"<br/><br/>Livinko nodded tiredly, looking up front his notes. He was a tall man whose features might be considered handsome were it not for the missing right eye he never bothered to cover or hide, a fleshy scarred lump of an eyelid the only thing that protected the empty socket. "Alright. I'll take the men," he said with a wave to Kolya and Pietr. "As for the women, we always need someone for the cleaning and cooking."<br/><br/>"You are mistaken, sir," Katerina said sharply, the steel in her voice surprising even her. "I intend to fight in your line. I have armor and sword, and companions who will teach me to use it better. If you disrespect me," she hissed, leaning across the table, "you will suffer for it."<br/><br/>Livinko laughed, unintimidated. "I like you, woman. What grandiose name do you go by?"<br/><br/>"Katerina."<br/><br/>"No sobriquet, Katerina? Come now, I sure you have some nickname."<br/><br/>She thought for a second. "Someone did recently call me the Red Scorpion."<br/><br/>Livinko chuckled at that, nodded with his empty socket staring at her. "Well, stick with us, woman, and you shall bring great fame on that name. You shall fight in our line." He poured a clear liquor from the bottle in front of him, offered a mug to Katerina. "Drink up, lads! The august warrior known as the Red Scorpion has graced us mere mortals by deigning to join our humble company!"<br/><br/>Men around the bar grinned, mocking raised mugs in salute. Some leered at the pretty girl, others started dropping coins on bets. How long until she ran away or fell in combat.<br/><br/>Katerina, for her part, remained stoic. Give it time, she told herself. "Thank you, my good man," she said, taking the offered drink. "To our success."<br/><br/>"We leave tomorrow dawn," Livinko said. "It's a long march to the desert lands. Count Sachkov, our employer, has set his sights on the border fortress of Al-Ribat. This may be the last drink he get before you face Bakh armies. So enjoy it, Red Scorpion, make it last."<br/><br/>"My thanks, Captain, for accepting me."<br/><br/>Livinko smiled, his empty eye staring. "Oh, it was my pleasure."