Uldred slid the wavy blade of her greatsword against the inside of arm, smearing away most of the gore upon her sleeve before sending the thing back into its sheath, just as the criminal conscripts had finally clambered over the carcasses to meet her upon the Road. This had not been her only battle that morning, but it had been the largest and obviously the most recent. Amongst the Lengar men who lay now strewn about like so much carrion, only a few had possessed any true skill. Most of them had been sell-swords, and poor ones at that, no doubt hired from taverns and guilds across their County as was Count Lengar's preference. The cheaper, the better. Only a handful of them remained alive now, either moaning in discomfort where they lay on the grass below or entirely unconscious. These few survivors had been the true soldiers of Lengar who were sent to lead the defense of the Road, futile as it was. Uldred had spared them, for she knew them to be men of honor and good repute from her previous contract, and so even if they were cut and bruised, they were alive.

“What do you want?” Uldred growled towards the newly-arriving men. The brigands flinched at being addressed directly and did not immediately reply, but they panicked further as she swung to face them in full.

“Th-the Sergeant sent us!” Stammered the weaselly man who headed the group. “He sent us to retrieve you! He was worried you might be in danger…”

Uldred narrowed her eyes at him. That’s quite the obvious lie. She scoffed internally. The Sergeant was witness to my last contract under Lengar–he would not come to my aid even if I was to cry out and beg him to. As she mused to herself, the handful of thugs still looked about at the surrounding carnage in dazed disbelief.

“Fine.” She said, “I shall have one of you lead me back to the tents.”

The small man gulped audibly. “O-one of us..?”

And as she once again unsheathed her sword, revealing that infamous black and wavy flamberge blade, and planted it in the dirt at her feet, the men’s eyes grew wide with recognition and dread.

“Aye, just the one.”

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“...Come again?” Niklas asked, looking over the young girl who sat before him in bemusement.

“I-I am the current Elder of Thuud, your royalness.” She repeated in almost an apologetic tone.

A brief silence fell over the room as the two men digested the information they had just received. The girl fidgeted nervously, looking down at the floor to avoid meeting their eyes. Finally, Niklas let out a long, audible exhale and scratched the back of his head.

“Well, I had supposed that to be the ‘Elder’ one must be…the eldest?” Niklas said, his tone humorous.

“I believe it is just a title, my Lord.” Thomas answered him.

Niklas frowned. “It was a joke, sir Thomas.” He replied flatly.

“Ah. Very funny, my Lord.” Thomas said without missing a beat, completely unperturbed. Niklas shot him a glare.

The girl glanced back and forth between them as they bantered. When Niklas finally turned back to meet her gaze, her eyes immediately fell back to the floor. When Niklas spoke again his voice was gentler, as if he was trying to coax a skittish creature.

“Well, I believe I speak for the two of us when I say that we would both be interested to know how such a thing came to be. Elder…?”

The girl looked expectantly at him, waiting for him to continue before she realized the question that he had been asking her. “Oh! Finona, my Lord! My name is Finona.”

“Elder Finona, then. Well met!” As he greeted her properly he took one of her thin hands in his and shook it vigorously, much to her apparent confusion. “I would love to hear your tale!”

“W-well, it is a simple tale, your Lordship.” She replied, self-consciously retrieving her hand from his grip and once again assuming her meek, curled-in posture. “Several m-months ago, a Monster came upon us fr-from further West.”

Niklas thought to himself for a moment. It is true that this village sits the furthest West of all, and is closest to the No-Man’s land where the Monsters reside.

“S-sometimes a Monster will, by luck or cleverness, sneak past the patrols from the Old Fort and the larger Towns. She said, valiantly trying to keep her tone light, but unable to hide the way her voice trembled slightly as she described her village’s misfortunes. “When they do… we are usually the first village that such a beast will come across.”

Her expression darkened as she continued.

“The one that appeared this time broke through our walls and fences in the night and made off with a cow or a pig here or there. The Old Fort usually sends a Hunter once we call, but it was taking too long, so a posse was formed. But all of the men died trying to fight it themselves, and in the end it was not until the Hunter came that the monster was dealt with.”

At the mention of the posse, Thomas’ habitual smile had, for once, faded, and he closed his eyes and shook his head in dismay. Niklas supposed that this was a tale he had heard many times before. As Finona continued she folded her arms around herself and rubbed them as if she was warming herself up from the cold in a small attempt at self-comfort.

“One of the men who we lost was the previous Elder’s son. And when he was gone her mind also sort of… left as well. She laid in bed for hours and she would barely eat, so she eventually just wasted away. Last month was when she...”

Her shaky voice and pale countenance as she recounted these events gave Niklas a terrible suspicion that she was most unfortunately and personally connected to the people in this tale.

“Partly because she neglected her duties, and partly because we lost so many working hands, the crop yield recently has been poor. And with the loss of so many draught animals, we’re unsure that our village will survive the coming cold. S-so everyone else is too engrossed in their own toils to take up the responsibility of an Elder. So, because I know a little about what the Elder did… it fell to me.”

“And you knew it because, to you, the previous Elder was…” Mumbled Niklas, almost without thinking, as he digested this information.

The girl bit her lip, her voice going wet with barely-restrained tears. before she choked out an answer. “She was to be my mother-in-law.”

At that the two men let out heavy breaths at the same time, much as if they had both been socked in the gut. While the girl sat now in a heavy silence, her bowed face shadowed by her wavy hair, her visitors again traded looks between each other. But while Thomas’ gaze was one full of pity and resignation, to his surprise, Niklas returned it with an expression of firm resolve. The young Count then clapped his palms down upon the low table that sat between them, causing Finona to jump in her seat and look back up at them with wide, startled eyes!

“Elder Finona!” Niklas spoke in an official, formal voice that made the young Elder hurriedly straighten her posture. “I, Count Niklas of Petrice, have come before you today to propose and discuss several reforms with you!”

“Re-reforms..?” She stammered, sounding as if unfamiliar with the very word.

“Aye!” He replied. “For I have been educated in the way of Stewardship at the Academy of Saint Noelle, where I was top of my class. And I would use the knowledge which I have acquired there to help you–and all the people of Petrice–and to ease your worries.”

As guilty as it made him feel to take advantage of such tragic circumstances, Niklas knew an opportunity when he saw it. All of the other village leaders which they met had shared a wariness and suspicion towards outsiders such as himself. Most of them had not even allowed him to describe his ideas to them, let alone considered them seriously. But here, in Thuud, the leader sitting before him was not only young and naïve, but also greatly troubled and open to whatever aid he might provide.

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“And I swear,” He continued, holding her wide, shocked gaze with his own, which was thick with determination. “-if you listen to what I have to say, and work with me to implement these reforms, you and your village will make it through this winter, and those that follow as well.”

Another beat of silence followed the young Count’s authoritative declaration, but this time it was a contemplative one. Finona still stared at the floor, but now her eyes flitted about, for she was obviously deep in thought. After a few tense moments, she finally raised her head and met his gaze with eyes that now burned with the same fiery determination as his.

“A-alright.” She replied with resolve despite her nerves.. “Let’s hear what it is you have to propose, my Lord.”

Niklas smiled a wolfish grin, then. Yes! Finally!

“Then I shall begin posthaste.” He said with an even tone, even while his eager hands were already reaching down to the pack at his side, retrieving from it the many rolled and folded parchments he had so meticulously prepared.

“Now, young Elder, we shall begin with the roads…”

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The trek back towards the camp was one that was long, terrible and silent, save only for the rustling of bushes and the snap of dry twigs underfoot. The weaselly little man walked ahead of her, now sporting one bruised and swollen eye from when she had struck him during the recent melee. He barely dared to breathe or make a sound as they traveled, as if he held onto some small hope that if he made his presence as miniscule as possible this large Countess might lose track of him in the brush so that he could escape. Every so often he would begin to fall behind her, as the difference in their gaits was so great, but in those moments she would grab the hem of his tattered tunic and shove him forward once again. Finally, after a torturously long trek, the smell of woodsmoke began to creep into their nostrils, a sign that the camp was close at hand.

From where he sat at the edge of the camp, Abor heard the sound of rustling brush and turned his head towards it just in time to see his small companion fall through a nearby shrub, skidding in the dirt as if he had been shoved. Noticing Abor, the other man quickly scrambled to his feet and ducked behind the brigand leader’s broad and hairy back.

Soon after the spindly criminal the larger form of the Countess emerged from the forest. She looked quite fearsome as she appeared ominously from the darkness between the trees, like some kind of mythical beast from a tale used to frighten children when they misbehaved.

For a moment Abor looked about in confusion for that of the handful of men he had ordered to retrieve the Noble woman, but aside from the Lady and his henchman, the forest was silent and still. Then, as realization dawned on him, he cast an intense, searching gaze over the Countess, taking in the fresh blood that now stained her blackened leathers and armor–blood that might not have come from the warriors of Lengar alone. He shot up to his feet.

As she approached the camp once more Uldred came upon a sight that was not so unexpected: the full force of the criminal conscripts from Otkorn stood amassed before her, wielding confiscated swords, wood-axes or shovels, although some were forced to resort to large stones or branches. In the center of that group, and beside their Leader, knelt the bloodied and bruised forms of the Sergeant and his soldiers, who had all been bound and gagged.

“Ah, the Noblewoman has returned!” Abor smiled maliciously. “Hearing of your lonesome departure this morning, we were so worried! We feared you might have been hurt or killed by those Lengar soldiers.”

He paced restlessly before her and the men assembled there, captive and conscript alike, as he continued.

“We are happy that you have returned in good health, my Lady.” He said with a mocking sneer. “I will do my utmost to guarantee your safety until you can be… returned to your home. But that protection will come with a price! And speaking of price–” He then kicked the Sergeant’s ear with the bottom of his boot, creating a spatter of blood that fell upon the next hostage in line.

“-these men tell us that you took the key to our hobbles before you left, and that for some reason you also ordered they hide their purses.”

His thin façade of friendliness fell, and the look that replaced it was a menacing expression of simmering anger.

“I don’t know how you knew ‘bout what we planned, but yer still gonna give us what we want if yer thinkin’ to survive.”

He thrust out one meaty, scarred hand, beckoning to her. “Now. The key, if you don’t mind.”

Uldred stood for a long, tense moment without moving. Then she slowly reached above her breastplate and into the collar of her shirt, retrieving from within a large bronze key which lay on a string around her neck. All of the criminals’ eyes widened as they laid eyes on that key, like starving men gazing upon a grand feast. But the anticipation in their expressions turned to rage as she slipped the key back beneath her armor and out of sight.

“Come and take it from me.” she said then, her voice ringing out across the campsite like the beat of a great drum.

A hot flush swept across Abor’s face then, for a man with such an intimidating reputation as his did not usually suffer such defiance, and his immature ego could not tolerate it. But just as he looked ready to explode with rage and charge straight at the Countess he felt a tug at his sleeve. Turning his head, his eyes fell upon the weaselly henchman, whose face was pale and twisted with abject terror.

“B-boss she’s a…a…” He stammered weakly up at Abor.

“What?!” The man himself growled out.

But he needed not wait for the answer, as the woman before them pulled from her back that great black-iron sword and tossed away its leather sheath, light from the campfires and torches flickering along the length of the wavy blade. An audible gasp ran through the conscripts then, and the lot of them instinctually took a step backwards, whispers beginning to run through the group like wind through tall grass.

“A Flamberge!”

“She’s a Monster Hunter..?”

Abor looked about at his men, who had one and all been cowed by the mere sight of a blade, and his own moment of shocked fear was quickly replaced with a burning indignation.

“So what if she hunts Monsters or whatever?” He belted out. “There’s still only one of her, and damn near forty of us! If we all go at once she won’t stand a chance! At his call, many of the criminals regained some of their confidence and once more readied themselves for a fight.

“Y-yeah!”

“Let’s get her!”

“Follow the boss!”

However, even as Abor bolstered some of their spirits, a few men at the far back of his force were slowly, subtly backing away. Abor then held aloft a fine sword, a blade he had taken from the Sergeant himself, and he pointed it towards Uldred.

“Get her!” he commanded.

A great cry erupted in the camp as dozens of men charged forward at once in a disorganized and sloppily advance. Uldred took up a fighting stance herself, holding her greatsword steady at her right shoulder with a two-handed grip. Soon the first wave of opponents unknowingly entered within her reach, which was shockingly broad due to the combination of her long arms and even longer blade. Mustering all of her inhuman strength, Uldred leaned her weight forward and stomped the ground with such force that her foot sank a few inches through the frozen dirt below as she lunged, at the same time swinging her mighty Flamberge in a great arc!

Now, for a normal swordsman, cutting halfway through an opponent is a feat of great strength. For a great swordsman, cleaving all of the way through one man into another is an act fit for a legendary tale. So imagine, if you will, the awe and dread one would feel as they bore witness to a blade which tears through wood and metal, flesh and bone alike as it swings, and is not halted until it has reached the apex of its arc!

The second wave of men and those just out of Uldred’s reach did not so much stop in their tracks as much as they were buffeted back by the great wind generated from her swing. They were also assaulted quite messily by gory shrapnel as remains of the ‘mates’ ahead of them–their blood, bones, guts, and even even whole limbs, heads and bisected torsos–came showering upon them in an instant!

The brave cries of determined men were in that single moment replaced with shrieks of agony and of horror. The men further back in the crowd could not quite see what had occurred at the front, for their vision had been obscured by a thick cloud of dry dirt kicked up by the force of her blade. As the dust settled and the scene unfolded, their mouths fell agape at the carnage wrought by her wrath.

Abor was frozen where he stood, unable to even blink in his shock, even as the eyes of his remaining men fell upon him, pleading for him to give them courage again. But as he slowly looked about at them he was unable to find even a single word to say.

Uldred calmly readied herself for another swing, her demeanor inscrutable as ever beneath her silver mask.

“R-run!” Came a cry from the back of the crowd.

At that, many of the criminals hurriedly turned tail and scrambled away, fleeing into the thick of the forest as fast as their shackled legs would allow them to go.

Finally coming to his senses once more, Abor barked out commands with an anger that was now fueled by desperation and fear. “S-stop you idiots! Come back here or I’ll kill you myself!” He cried after them, futile as it was.

“You won’t have the chance.” Replied a muffled voice from behind him.

Moving impossibly fast for her size, the giant woman had cleared the twenty-or-so paces between the two of them in but an instant. Abor turned just in time to yelp in fear as the razor-sharp edge of her heavy blade swung down upon him–and clean through!