Although I remember my death in this life, I don't remember the time between, only darkness.
The memory of my past lives returned to me during a fire that took away this life's parents. I suppose it was the shock of losing everything that triggered the memories.
Whatever the reason, it was poor timing, as I needed to rescue my little sister from the flames, and the shock nearly caused me to lose her, too.
In the aftermath, we were taken in by a group of mercenaries who were tracking the warlord that burned the city.
In particular one man took a shining to myself and my sister. The leader of the band of mercenaries, Roland. Gruff, no-nonsense, but kindhearted deep beneath those layers of unapproachable gruffness.
Like always, I'm an unimportant nobody. Just another NPC suffering from what the important people do with the world.
Despite that, Roland took me under his wing and taught me how to be a mercenary like him.
As for my little sister...she didn't want to be a mercenary, but he treated her as kindly and just as protective as he had me.
In this life, I'm not rich, or important, or blessed with magic or anything else.
I'm not beautiful like Ophelia was, or even average like Adelaide. I'm too masculine and rugged, too scarred from my life of hard labor to even be average looking.
I am Diane. A mercenary. One of the best, not because of any talent but because I had the very best there to teach me.
I don't have any advanced plans for this life, I don't recognize this world at all.
There is one thing, though.
I absolutely will not.
Ever.
Be taken in by the lie called love.
Not ever again.
Love is a foolish trap and one I refuse to get caught in again. I don't know why I ever fell for it twice already but I refuse to repeat the mistake again.
"Diane," Roland grumbles, subtly elbowing me.
I glance his way briefly before I follow his eyes and immediately find the reason he's nudged me.
An absolute beauty sits on a stool at the bar of this tavern, leaning over and gesturing for another drink while smiling playfully at the bartender.
She has the typical sort of flawless looks a princess has - blond hair, blue eyes, lovely smile. Her hair is just barely out of place and there are traces of sweat on her brow like she's been in the heat for awhile.
Her dress looks fine, well-tailored to fit her shape, hugging all her curves but leaving plenty of skin covered so as not to come off indecent. Her corset pushes her breasts upward and she isn't shy about using that to get a free drink.
"Roland," he is something of a surrogate father to me - even moreso Talia, who can't remember our parents at all- but he's always insisted on just using his name. "If you tell me one word about your conquest...I will walk away and never speak to you again."
Despite his gruff manner, he grins widely at me, elbowing me again.
"C'mon! Don't be like that, Diane!" Roland bellows as he gets to his feet and strides up to the bar, ordering himself a drink before he turns to the woman seated next to him.
Her eyes flash with amusement when she sees Roland and she leans against the countertop, cocking her head at him. "Oh? Who's this? I thought you already got your drink..." she asks with a light giggle.
I roll my eyes and smother an amused smile as I shake my head and turn my attention elsewhere. How Roland manages such raw charisma at his age I don't know, and I'd really rather not think about it.
I lean back on my stool, tipping the last of the beer in my cup down my throat, and get to my feet. Roland's antics are funny to watch, but they always get the same result.
The lady of the evening will tease him until he offers her some money and she'll accept it and he'll end the evening by paying her and pretending to be some big shot nobleman. The routine never varies.
He's lucky I like him too much to tell him this, because I could eviscerate that man....though....no, he would probably shrug it off.
Honestly...that old coot. He's old enough to be her father, maybe even her grandfather.
The cool night air greets me as I exit the tavern, sighing quietly in relief. The night is brisk, which feels good after a day in the heat.
The night breeze has an unfamiliar scent to it.
The town of Aldridge is small compared to the capitol of the kingdom, a mere provincial outpost by comparison.
It's surrounded by a dense wooded area which provides a decent amount of lumber for sale, giving it healthy trade routes. As a mercenary, trader routes are my bread-and-butter.
There's nothing easier than getting paid to ride alongside a merchant and intimidate enemies into not attacking a caravan full of goods.
Well - vault guarding is easier.
But I'd rather not be bored to tears for a living.
I make a gesture to the town gate guards, showing my identification as a mercenary. "Heading out into the woods."
The guard nods understandingly, letting me pass through. "Stay safe, Miss Diane."
I offer a flippant wave as I stroll out the gates and down the path towards the forest.
As a mercenary, there are two options for me.
Either I take the more stable jobs in town and become a permanent part of the city's security detail, or I go out into the wilderness and seek work.
It's better to do the latter, as it allows me to increase my fame and reputation in the region and allow people to hire me to defend their caravans.
I prefer traveling, to be honest. Maybe because Roland traveled while we were young, maybe because I don't like being tied down to one place.
Talia moved back into our old town once it was rebuilt and she was old enough to do so, but I don't have the sentimentality she does.
How can a hometown mean anything when you've lived three lives in different worlds?