Oh Copz, we are now in big trouble.
Backs pressed together, the teenage apprentices faced off against two raiders of the dreaded Bleeding Mummers. Armed with only small knives and wooden swords, the boys eyed the leather and armor-adorned marauders warily, seeing who'd make the first move.
"I'll claim the one that you spare," Puck, the one with the oak-beard, replied to his partner once he drew his wooden warhammer that Weimar was sure had been either plundered from a dead warrior or traded for something like a bow and arrow or tar. Either way, the two were faced with certain death lest they reacted swiftly and efficiently.
"I'll take the one with the Shryke Falcon eyes." Asha glared down at Syras with her crow-like eyes. "I'll let you have the small fry."
"You always get the good ones, but I suppose it's fair enough."
Letting out a war cry that tore through the din of the battle and the voice of combatants and non-combatants alike, the two tribal savages lunged at their quarry. Wishing he had a sword like Talon, Weimar stood with his right foot out, knees bent, preparing to parry his foe. If only he had the shrewdness to acquire a sword or axe from one of the corpses, then the odds of his survival would have risen, if not by 50%, then at least a bit. As the howling marauder bore down on him, the squire braced himself and shifted his wooden weapon between him and the sword that gleamed a mix of red and orange in the twilight.
"Hrrrah!"
Weimar barely managed to block the blow that would have hewn his head off his shoulders, but the enemy's steel weapon bit deep into his wooden one. Pulling it out, Puck guffawed like a Nyubyanian Hyena.
"Pathetic! A wooden sword is no match for my thick shiny steel needle!"
As he made several jabs at the knight-in-training, Weimar attempted to parry some of the blows as he evaded multiple, but the superior sword shredded the weaker one. Shaking his head and laughing at the boy's plight, the raider approached a disarmed Weimar.
"It seems that this is the end of the rope for you, kid. " Puck bore down on the defeated squire. The light from the setting sun giving him an angelic appearance. "It's a shame for you to go like this. Too bad for you since you had the potential to become an adept swordsman. Now it's time to end this."
Weimar tensed as the butcher of the people of Fjor raised his weapon, but before he could bring it down, something sharp exploded from his throat. Gasping, Puck crumpled to his knees and glanced up on terror as Syras smirked down at him, silhouetted by the coming dusk. As the ruffian's eyes rolled into the back of his head, he crumpled over, revealing his dead female companion laying behind him like a rag doll, blood pooling from under her throat. The nimble young teen, his Celdean daggers dripping with vermillion liquid, turned to smirk at his bewildered companion.
"If only you'd have heeded my warning about looting a weapon from a soldier or Mummy who bit the dust, then you'd have stood a chance." Syras whirled a bloody dagger in his hand. "On another note, you had the graceful style of an expert swordsman. Imagine what you could have done with a real sword."
Weimar dusted himself. "Oi! Thanks for the compliments, but I really think we need to find Sir Globar. After all, he is where the action is."
"Fair enough. I'll race you."
As Syras took off, his blue-gray cloak fluttering in the evening air, Weimar was hot on his heels. Before he forgot, he picked up a broadsword from the corpse of a militiaman. He wouldn't be empty-handed if they encountered anymore bandits of the Bleeding Mummies.
The smoke is so blazin' thick!
Coughing, Weimar used the top of his royal blue tunic to cover his nose as they made it past wooden and straw establishments that were ablaze as well as fleeing civilians, mostly mothers of households made homeless by the Mummy's heinous incursion. Soon, they heard the din of battle gradually rising and as they made it to the mills, they were greeted by a spectacular sight.
"Look!" Syras grabbed his friend's arm and pointed ahead at the massive confrontation between the Bleeding Mummies and Sir Globar's defenders. "There's Sir Globar and the cowardly sheriff. Wait, is that Jorgynn the Callous?"
"Jorgynn the who?" Weimar frowned. His eyes and ears were met with sensory overload as they viewed the battlefield around the stream. Blood coated the ground where corpses lay and all seemed to converge into the stream, giving the dark blue liquid a reddish tinge.
"Jorgynn, the son of Jorgas, the deputy of the Bleeding Mummies! If Sir Globar slays him, the group will be crippled!" Syras bounced excitedly.
"Is that so?" The young squire gazed at the scuffle taking place in front of the burning wheel of the water mill. The glowing flames illuminated Sir Globar's face briefly as well as the silhouette of a large bearded man with scraggly brown hair and a beard to match while they feuded among the blood-stained landscape. He inferred that the rover trading blows sword and axe with the renowned knight was Jorgynn the Callous. "Let's hope that it happens."
Dear Charbald, I pray you grant Sir Globar the strength to hew the bellicose marauder down.
As the two apex warriors crossed their weapons, each trying to gain the advantage over the other, Sharyyf the cowardly sheriff charged at Jorgynn with a short sword that resembled a large dagger. As he lunged at the deputy of the Mummies' blind side, the murderous marauder whirled around, feeling the lawman's presence as if he had a sixth sense, and disarmed him before knocking him over with the back of his battleaxe. The dazed sheriff frowned, gazing up at the approaching raider that was bearing a bloodied axe before his cloud-colored grey eyes grew wide in terror.
Oooh boy, this doesn't look good at all.
"Excuse me, you big oaf, but are you forgetting who your opponent is? No, it isn't that cowardly sheriff quivering before you on the ground. "
Both teens in the knight's service held their breath as Jorgynn whirled around in time to parry Robin Globar's blow. The two exchanged several blows as the goatee-sporting sheriff attempted to crawl away from the fierce brawl between the two combatants, but he froze as a corpse of a Bleeding Mummy landed before him. Squealing he turned to rise, only to find Jorgynn over him, raising his axe as Sir Globar was distracted trying to hold off two of the senior raider's underlings. Bellowing in bloodlust, Jorgynn raised his bloody weapon as he towered over the petrified lawman. Weimar glanced at Syras.
"Should we go help him? The way things are going, the big lug is going to decapitate him like a rooster."
The young able-bodied villager shook his head. "Nah, mate. A sniveling and slimy coward like him isn't worth risking our hide for. "
As Jorgynn brought his steel blade down on Fjore's finest, the boys cringed and looked away from the awful sight. The bloodcurdling scream drowned out the din of battle and the roaring of the flames as they consumed the wooden buildings, signaling that the kill was confirmed.
"Dear Zygmar," Weimar whispered. "What have we gotten ourselves into?"
"He had it coming," Syras tried to reassure his friend. "The wicked get what they all deserve eventually."
"And y'all get yers."
Stunned, the boys glanced up to see a large Bleeding Mummy sporting a wooden fishing spear loom over them. Was their attention so diverted by the battle that they'd missed this big oaf sneaking up on them?48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0H9qc6spsQ
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"Stay sharp!"Syras shouted as the two managed to barely evade the blow. As the spear barely missed Weimar's face by mere inches, the Outer Territory villagers watched it strike the dirt and imprint on it. Cursing, the outlaw tried to yank it free from the ground. The nimble Syras Morrizak stared at Weimar.
"Now's your chance!"
"Wait, what?" The squire was at a loss. "You are seriously asking me to kill the guy?"
Syras facepalmed. "No, I'm asking you to hug him. Of course I'm asking you to smite him down before he kills us!"
Weimar's hand trembled a bit as he saw the man start to regain control of his weapon.
"Weimar! It's him or us!"
Sighing, the aspiring knight took his pal's point. Letting out a war cry, Weimar grasped his sword as he charged his foe and swung at the moment the ruffian yanked his spear from the earth and turned to parry the incoming blow from the sword. Fortunately, Weimar was a step quicker and felt the sword shudder as it made contact with flesh. The Bleeding Mummy outlaw fell on his knees, making wheezing sounds and grasping his bloodied neck. While Weimar watched the dying man as if in a trance, Syras yanked him by the arm.
"Come on, we need to move it! Sir Globar needs us!"
The young farm boy's eyes remained locked on the dying marauder as they dodged flaming fields, warring parties, and blood-stained corpses. Seeing his friend's eyes settle on his bloodied sword, Syras patted his arm.
"Yeah, you had to. The first one is hard as they say, but from there on, it only gets easier. I mean that the feeling of taking a life grows number each time you commit a kill."
"How can you know that?" Weimar mumbled, his throat parched.
"I killed several animals in hunting trips to the Backwoods. Just think of it that way. Ho! Here we are!"
The squire absentmindedly glanced ahead to see their benefactor covered in the gore of his kills as he fought the equally soiled clan chief. From the way things were looking, Sir Globar was tiring. Weimar knew he had to be his master's life line. Breaking free from Syras, who was unstrapping a Celdean dagger, Weimar charged and lunged toward Jorgynn's back.
"Weimar! What are you doing? You mad? I could have done the same thing from afar with my dagger."48Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡv2LvY6UnDd
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Jorgynn, hearing the boy's shouts, turned and grasped him by the neck. Weimar kicked and squirmed as the ruffian licked his lips, eyeing his prey with a smile that a direwolf sports when it is ready to dive in for a kill. Before he could raise his sword, a look of pained horror appeared on Jorgynn's face as a sword erupted from his stomach. Weimar fell down to the soiled earth, coughing as his weapon fell from his sword hand.
"Weimar, you alright?"
As Syras appeared at his side, Weimar glanced up to see a second stroke behead the imposing Bleeding Mummy leader. As the headless corpse fell to the side, Sir Globar stood over the two, winded.
"Sir! That was well done!" Syras rose from beside Weimar. "You don't have to thank us for-"
"Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?" The knight frowned. "What cause would I have to thank you? You two could have been killed! Why aren't you with Mayor Haathon?"
Weimar rise to his feet, breathless. "Sir? There's something you should know about the mayor."
Globar raised a brow. "I'm listening."
Weimar glanced at Syras before he spoke.
---
"Alright, now do you know the consequences of having a corrupt and lazy pig for a mayor?"
As the sky, littered with thousands of glimmering stars, turned a crimson shade, the villagers gathered around the mayor's office, the only establishment in the village to come out of the onslaught unscathed. Sir Globar, Weimar, and Syras stood arms crossed before the mayor and his retainers whom they confronted in front of his 'den', as he referred to it. The pompous town organizer raised his hands gingerly, smiling nervously, as he tried to placate the crowd of civilians and militia demanded his resignation or his head.
"Now, now, I assure you I had my best interests for the town-" Realizing what he had just said, Mayor Haathon quickly backtracked. "I mean, I had your best interests for the town. I wouldn't let this place burn while I basked in luxury, sipping wine and enjoying the Koryonne masseuses ,would I?"
The Aislundian knight narrowed his ocean-colored eyes. "That is exactly what you've been doing. " He turned to address the angry mob. "I'm sure he hasn't told you about why his little palace remained unmolested by the raiders, hasn't he?"
"N-no, please no!" The disgraced mayor begged, but Sir Globar was intent on keeping all of Fjore's honest citizens informed of their leader's illegal ventures.
"Perhaps you can inform them of how you paid off and bribed Jorgynn and his Bleeding Mummies to have free reign to ravage the village while you basked in your wealth. What kind of a mayor sells his village like slaves to barbarian hordes?"
The mayor's red lips twitched in livid anger. "That does it! Julius, silence this insolent cavalier!"
As the heavyset bodyguard, his chainmail jingling, stepped forward to comply with his master's orders, an arrow buried itself in his shoulder. Yelping in pain, the strongman slunk back. All eyes went to the archer clad in a white sheepskin cloak, his bow still in his arm. The militia archer narrowed his eyes as pointed at the mayor and his corrupt entourage.
"We will not stand for this! Let's begin the impeachment process!"
Mayor Haathon, his beady eyes cautiously flitting between the advancing crowd out for blood, knew that the time of reckoning had arrived for him.
"Mommy, please help me!"
As a roaring crowd pursued the mayor and his elite guards out of the town, Sir Globar stepped forward to approach the boys.
"I must say, that was quite a day. The least it did was teach us a valuable lesson about good citizenship and leadership although it had to end in blood." The knight rubbed off some blood from his salmon-colored cloak. "Can you both tell me what the lesson is?"
Before either boy could open their mouths to respond to their master, a feminine voice cut them off.
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Taken back, the three travelers turned around to see the woman draped in the large cloak that they'd met before hand hurry up to them, three kids in rags at her heels. With one free hand that wasn't holding a sleeping infant, she offered the trio a small pouch that made the jingling sounds of those that bear coins.
"On behalf of the people of Fjore, I offer you these tokens of our humble gratitude for what you've accomplished for our dear town."
Syras's eyes grew wide with greed, but before he could snatch the coins, Sir Globar held him back with one hand before dismissing the woman's offer.
"We appreciate your gratitude, but we can not accept your coins. You've suffered so much so you'll need them in order to get your town back on track. It's a knight's duty to defend the helpless from ones who'd do them harm as well as those who'd exploit the naive."
The woman nodded as she retracted her hand. "If that is your wish, so be it. We are grateful for your assistance, Sir. If you'd like to spend the night at my place before wandering off, I'd be more than happy to accommodate you."
"Again, we appreciate the offer, but our presence is required elsewhere at the moment." The bearded knight turned to the boys. "Lads, let's saddle our mounts. We can't keep Morghaldt awaiting our presence longer than he has to."
Once the boys in training and the infamous knight set out on the road under the twinkling stars ,the only source of light, Syras grumbled a bit.
"What's that?" Weimar turned his gaze at his friend.
"I can't believe Sir Globar refused to take payment. Those coins might have earned us a night at a tavern instead of saddle soreness for tomorrow."
Weimar only smiled. Classic Syras, ambitious as can be.
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