I Only Summon Villainesses

I sat down between Jose and Sulin, leaning my back against the cool stone of the building wall. The three of us formed a loose triangle, not quite together, not quite apart. Circumstance rather than choice.

As I settled, I noticed another group of mercenaries nearby. Three of them, and they looked like they’d been here for a while. The first was a heavyset man with arms like small tree trunks and a face that seemed permanently set into a frown. He was cleaning a short axe with a rag that was dirtier than the weapon itself.

The second was a woman, wiry and lean, with close-cropped hair and a thin scar that bisected her left eyebrow. She was sitting cross-legged and eating something from a cloth bundle, her movements quick and efficient, like someone who had learned to eat fast or not eat at all.

The third was younger than the other two, maybe my age. He had a narrow face and nervous eyes that kept darting between the Night Guards and the other mercenaries. His hands were restless, constantly adjusting the sword at his hip.

’First timer.’

I could recognize the look because it was probably close to how I felt right now, maybe I was just doing a much better job at chunking it down.

The heavyset man noticed me looking and met my gaze evenly. No hostility, but no warmth either. Just the flat assessment of someone measuring whether I was a threat or an asset.

“You lot just come in?” His voice was a low rumble.

“Obviously,” Jose answered without opening his eyes.

The man grunted. “Name’s Dull.”

’Dull? That’s… fitting, actually.’

“Cade,” I said. I glanced at the other two in my group, but Sulin didn’t offer her name and Jose seemed content to pretend he was asleep.

The woman with the scar looked at me. “How much they paying you?”

“Hundred fifty silver.”

She snorted. “They’re paying the early arrivals a hundred. You walked in late and got premium.”

“Supply and demand,” I said.

’I didn’t even know I was getting premium. Good. At least the money’s decent.’

The younger one, the first timer, spoke up. His voice was thin. “Is it true? About the… the twelve hours?”

Nobody answered him for a moment. Then Dull set down his axe and looked at the kid with something that could have been pity if you squinted hard enough.

“Twelve hours is what they say. Could be more, could be less. Depends on how fast the rich bastards spend their money.”

The kid swallowed visibly. I looked at him and then looked away. There was nothing I could say that would help.

A horn sounded from somewhere inside the building. Not loud, not alarming. Just a single note that rose and fell. Everyone in the courtyard went still for a moment, then relaxed when it became clear it wasn’t the signal. Just some internal communication between the Night Guards.

But the stillness told me something. Everyone here was wound tight. The mercenaries might look casual, might be sleeping or eating or sharpening their weapons, but every single one of them had flinched at that horn.

’They’re all scared. They just hide it differently.’

After a while, a Night Guard emerged from the building carrying a crate. He dropped it in the center of the courtyard without ceremony.

“Rations,” he announced. “One portion per head. Take more than your share and we take it out of your pay.”

Nobody moved for a second. Then the scramble started, and I watched as mercenaries who had been lounging casually moments ago became remarkably motivated. The crate was surrounded in seconds.

Jose opened one eye.

“Should we?”

“Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll wait.”

He looked at me, then at the crowd around the crate, then shrugged and closed his eye again.

“Wise man.”

Sulin stood without a word and walked toward the crate. The crowd parted for her just slightly. Not a lot, but enough that I noticed. She returned a minute later with three cloth bundles and dropped one in front of me and one in front of Jose.

Jose opened both eyes this time.

“Oh?”

“You’ll fight poorly on an empty stomach,” she said flatly, and sat back down.

Jose and I exchanged a look. Well, Jose looked at me with a raised eyebrow and I responded by looking at the cloth bundle and then back at him.

’She’s practical. I can work with practical.’

I unwrapped the ration. Hard bread, a strip of dried meat, and something that might have been cheese or might have been an insult to the concept of cheese. I couldn’t be sure.

I ate it anyway. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t the worst I’d had. Gilbert’s Inn still held that title firmly.

As I chewed, I noticed something else. The Night Guards were starting to move with a different energy. Before, they had been stationed at fixed points, watching us with their usual contempt. Now they were walking between groups, occasionally stopping to exchange words with each other, glancing at the sky.

The overcast sky had been darkening steadily since we arrived, and now it carried a weight that felt deliberate, like the atmosphere itself was preparing for something.

I looked up. The clouds were the color of a bruise.

’How long do we have?’

As if answering my question, the older Night Guard with the scar reappeared from the building. He walked to the center of the courtyard with the slow deliberateness of a man who knew everyone would watch, and waited until the murmuring died down.

“Listen well because I will say this once.”

The courtyard went quiet.

“The Night Auction begins at sundown. Your role is to hold the outer perimeter against the Night Fall Order’s advance. You will be organized into units of six. Your unit assignments have been determined.” He unrolled a scroll. “When your name is called, report to your unit leader. Unit leaders are Night Guard personnel. You will follow their commands without question or delay.”

He began reading names, and mercenaries started shuffling into groups around the courtyard.

I listened for Cressida’s name. Through the first unit, the second, third, fourth, fifth.

Her name never came.

My jaw tightened.

’Where the hell is she?’

“Cade.”

My name. I looked up.

The Night Guard was looking directly at me with those flat grey eyes.

“Unit seven. You, the green one, and the woman with the red eyes. Over there.”

He pointed toward the east section of the courtyard where a Night Guard unit leader was already standing, arms folded.

Jose sighed theatrically and stood up. “The green one. Love that.”

Sulin was already on her feet.

The three of us walked to our assigned position, and I noticed that the other three in our unit were Dull, the wiry woman with the scar, and the nervous kid. Six of us in total.

Our unit leader was a Night Guard woman, young, maybe mid twenties. She had dark skin and close-cropped hair, and the kind of expression that suggested she’d rather be doing literally anything else. She looked at us the way someone looks at tools they’ve been given and aren’t confident will work.

“Unit seven,” she said. “I’m Sergeant Kael. You follow orders. You hold your position. You don’t run.”

She paused, and her eyes lingered on the nervous kid, who was practically vibrating.

“If you run, I won’t chase you. But the Night Fall Order will.”

The kid went pale. Jose whistled again, low and amused.

I didn’t care about the threats. I didn’t care about the unit structure. I didn’t care about Sergeant Kael and her dead eyes.

I cared about the fact that Cressida’s name had not been called.

Not in any unit. Not at all.

’Something is wrong.’

The sky continued to darken. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the ruins, something that sounded like a war drum began to beat. Slow. Steady.

Getting closer.

Sergeant Kael looked toward the sound, and for the first time since I’d seen her, something other than disinterest crossed her face.

“They’re early,” she murmured.

Then louder, to us:

“On your feet. All of you. Now.”

The courtyard erupted into motion.