Ben emerged from the waters and took hold of a ladder, before climbing it up to a wooden pier. The fall and the following swim in cold waters had taken a toll on him, so he took a moment to get his bearings and catch his breath. He then headed back to the docks, where the ambush had taken place. A few curious folks were coming out of surrounding buildings and inspecting the scene with him. He sighed with relief when he found his bow in all the mayhem of bodies and discarded weapons. He also grabbed a quiver and strapped the lot on his back, then began jogging north. He wanted to reach the gate before the Templars did, but he fought the desire to speed his pace up, he would need his strength soon. Running was usually the best thing to do against knights, only in the opposite direction. He cursed as he considered the task ahead of him.

He left the docks and their lights and entered the merchant streets, which were eerie calm and dark at this hour. The *flick-flock* of his wet boots on the cobbles was the only disturbance to be heard, it made him feel dangerously noticeable. Other than having to face the Templars alone, he also worried about Mae’s fate. He didn’t trust Gilbet and his retainers to protect her. The rest of their troops were hired thugs and mercenaries, and those were even less reliable. And there was also the matter of leaving Cleo alone on the tower, it made him anxious. But his plan should work, he tried to reassure himself. She was probably going to be pissed at him afterward, but that’ll teach her to betray him.

The characteristic sound of armor clicking drew his attention back to his surroundings, his quarry was not very far ahead. Folks in heavy armor luckily ran slow on long distances. The problem with knights came when you had to fight them. They were jogging a good three dozen yards away and Ben kept the distance even, waiting for them to turn on a wider street. As soon as the Templars did, he sprinted towards the corner and knocked an arrow. He paused, took aim and held his breath. As soon as the projectile flew out, he pulled another from his quiver and shot, he had to make every chance count. Ben didn’t lose time to confirm the hits, he ran back the way he came and into a parallel street. He heard a few shouts of alarm, confusion and… pain, meaning the arrow had hit home. That’ll mess up the bastards good, he thought, and he sprinted as fast as he could.

He went quickly through a side alley and peeked into the main street. Half a dozen knights were standing clumped up together. Ben felt glad noticing one of them was on the ground and moaning, an arrow showing in the back of his leg. They seemed a bit confused, not knowing where the archer was, but their reaction irritated the thief. The bastards were good, many other folks would be running around and screaming in confusion in that situation. But these had quickly gathered in formation behind shields. Ben aimed his bow anyway, and let loose before going out of sight and escaping once more.

He didn’t have much hope of killing the Emperor’s men with a bow, they wore steel plate after all. But a few good wounds would slow them down at least. He ran full speed and further north, his eyes scanning his surroundings for a spot to climb. He lifted himself up a fence and to a roof, then quietly drew close to the edge of it. He squinted his eyes in the dark, looking for his enemies. After a little while, the sound of footsteps and whispers got to his ears before he could see his enemy. He cursed when he could finally make out their shapes, the assholes were in a tight group, hugging the wall and using their bucklers to cover their flank and front. They numbered five now, having abandoned their wounded comrade.

Ben waited patiently for them to pass right in front of him, only ten paces away, and aimed for a gap in the shield wall. At this distance, even a shortbow could pierce a sixth of an inch of steel, and missing was even less likely. Ben’s arrow stuck home, lodging itself in the helm of his target. The four remaining Templars reacted instantly and began running ahead, holding out their protection overhead. Ben fired a few more times and downed another man, whereas the other shots bounced off on armor. They were escaping, much to Ben’s disappointment, he had hoped for the soldiers to go after him. Shooting them as they’d try climbing would have been the end of it, he grunted. When they got too far for him to see, he climbed back down the street, and ran in pursuit.

He was getting alarmingly close to the northern gate now, so he decided to up his pace to help Mae. A faint, ruffling noise attracted his attention to his left. A sword appeared, slicing through the air and towards his head. Ben’s reflexes took over, he bent his body as low as he could and slid on the ground. The blade passed a few inches from his face as he fell down, but it was no time to feel relieved. The three remaining knights had decided to wait in a side alley and ambush him, they were quickly moving in to surround the thief. Ben cursed as he scrambled to his feet, and rolled on the cobbles to avoid another blow from the first attacker. From his low position, he kicked the man’s ankle and winced as his feet connected with the steel greave. The knight fell to the ground in a loud crash and Ben didn’t leave time for the other two to draw any closer, he ran like hell in the opposite direction.

There were only a couple hundred paces left before he would reach the north gate now, he had to do something. Ben didn’t fancy bringing more trouble towards Mae. AS he kept running, he glanced quickly behind him to confirm he had put some distance between him and his enemies, and knocked an arrow. He swiftly stopped, turned back to face them, and let loose. The man leading the charge was too surprised by the sudden move to raise his shield, and the projectile pierced his throat. The second pursuer stopped short and lifted up his buckler before Ben could fire another once. The young man kept his bow up threateningly and stepped back as his target resumed his advance, only cautiously this time. Ben hesitated, he might not get time for another try if he missed this shot. The thief noticed the Templar he had knocked down was catching up on them, and switched his aim in an instant.

The first armored man froze as the arrow flew by him, apparently surprised it missed. But soon behind him, his companion cried out in pain and the man glanced back. Ben used that moment to pull another shaft from his quiver as fast as he could, and fired without losing time to aim. There was not much need for it, he was ten paces away from a still target, and the missile lodged itself into the soldier’s shoulder. He screamed from the pain, but still held out his shield to protect chest and helm. Ben shot at the guy’s foot and got another yell of pain as a reward, before turning his attention to the last knight. He was lying on the ground, holding his thigh and moaning from the pain. Ben drew his sword, dispatched the two wounded men and headed north in a hurry.

Stolen story; please report.

The scene awaiting him at the gate was ghastly. Mercenaries and members of Gilbet’s household were lying on the ground, dead or badly wounded. Ben let out a sigh of relief when he found Mae hiding behind a house, together with the lord and the remaining survivors. They jumped in fright when they noticed him.

“Ben, what are you doing here? I thought you were defending the tower!” The whore frowned.

“I saw some Templars heading north so I followed them, left Cleo to handle things there.” Ben explained.

“Are you saying the Emperor’s soldiers are coming? God, we’re in a dire situation here already.” The councilman exclaimed, and the men around him took the new grimly. Ben noticed the man was wearing good armor, and his face showed a few cuts. Perhaps he was a better fighter than he looked, the thief mused.

“They ain’t coming no more. Took care of them.”

“What about the harbor? You left the little ghost alone there? Holy tit Ben, there were thirty or more knights!” Mae shouted.

“She should be fine, I think. Probably.” He shrugged to hide his concern. “Now’s not the time to scream at me anyway, what’s going on here?”

“Gilbet! Lay down your weapons, you’ve lost.” Came a voice from the gate’s direction, right on cue.

Ben peeked at the corner and saw Chaffaud, together with his men, standing atop the city wall thirty paces away. The big, wooden doors under them were wide open, he grunted at the sight.

“They managed to slip by us during the first battle and take the walls. We tried to assault them twice since, but suffered heavy losses I’m afraid.” Gilbet said.

“Bastards got bows and we only had one shield.” One of the councilman’s retainers pointed. Ben glanced at the corpses further down the street, seeing the tall shield he had given Mae out there in the open. He scowled at her.

“What? I wasn’t fighting, figured one of our guys could use it.” She shrugged.

“I must admit my surprise Gilbet, it seems you have found yourself a spine. After all these years, who would have thought.” Chaffaud mocked him from his perch.

“I cannot believe you would sell the city to the Empire. To think I once called you my friend.” The lord shouted back.

The two councilmen kept yelling at each other, but Ben didn’t listen, he was assessing the situation. Chaffaud and six bowmen stood atop some stairs on the remparts, with as many pikemen to protect them. Another four soldiers were manning the entrance on ground level. The only good point was that the walls were not made to repel an attack from the inside, so they could not hide behind crenelations. Ben glanced at his companions and it didn’t do much to lift his spirits. Most were dead or wounded, leaving maybe ten spears in fighting shape. And he was standing here only on his breeches, having taken off his armor earlier. Things looked bad for their side, he cursed.

“Where's the damn citywatch when we need them?”

“Nowhere to be seen, we sent word out but got no answer. The asshole probably paid them to look the other way.” Mae spoke angrily.

“At least we can be thankful they are not openly siding with Chaffaud.” Gilbet pointed mirthlessly.

“A’right, got a plan. First I need my shield, pass me that lad over there.” Ben said, pointing at a form lying on the ground next to them, covered in blood. Nobody complied, they all looked at the thief in confusion.

“Damn, gotta do everythin’ myself.” Ben handed his bow to Mae and stole the dead man’s helmet, before positioning him on his back.

“What are you doing with Anthony’s remains?” Gilbet cried out.

Ben didn’t listen to the complaining, he took out a deep breath and sprinted out of hiding. As soon as he left his cover, he heard a shout and then arrows flew at him. Ben twisted his body to put the corpse he was carrying between him and his death. A couple of the projectiles missed, while the rest lodged in poor Anthony. Ben let the man drop and dashed forward before his attackers could reload. He jumped towards his shield, grabbed it and knelt behind it. A few loud thumps followed soon after, as a handful of shafts stuck his protection. Ben sighed with relief and hurried back toward safety, where his companions waited.

“A’right. Now can you guys throw spears?” A few weak nods answered him. “Aim for the bowmen then, and move fast, I’m not dodging arrows all night.”

“And how are we going to fight afterward, without weapons?”

“Grab some from the dead.” Ben shrugged, and took his bow and quiver.

He strapped his shield tight on his back and advanced to the side of the house. A quick peek revealed his six targets, standing atop the wall with projectiles pre-emptively knocked.

“Can ya throw a dead guy out there?”

The men seemed reluctant to obey until Mae scolded them into it. A couple thugs heaved a corpse and launched it on the street, it landed on the ground together with arrows. Six of them, Ben noted gladly, and he took the opportunity to shot one of his own. A scream of pain from the rempart relented in the night, and Ben advanced straight towards the gate. He kept a slow, steady pace and eyes on his targets, trying to stay calm as he pulled out another shaft. He waited until the last moment and pivoted swiftly, kneeling down and exposing his back to his enemies. As soon as he heard projectiles hitting his shield there, he twirled and let loose. Four bowmen left, he thought as he resumed his march and reached in his quiver.

“Now!”

He shouted as he whirled and crouched once more, as another volley flew in his direction. He saw his companions rushing out of hiding, and he turned back to the remparts to sigh another quarry. Ben froze for an instant, when he realized there was a bowman staring right at him, the bastard had not fired and waited for Ben to expose himself. Dodging an arrow from twenty paces only happened in songs, and Ben was too late to shot the man down. He stared, powerless, as the incoming projectile flew right at him. He felt a sharp pain and the impact stunned him for a second, before he realized he was alive. The shaft had bounced off his helmet, he thanked god and shot back at the bastard.

The arrow hit home at the same time as the volley from Ben's allies did. A lance stuck one of the bowmen right in the chest, and his comrades jumped down in fright, as other spears hit the stones around them. Ben used the distraction to keep firing, not needing to use his shield this time, and fell the remaining archers before they could get back to their feet. He heard Chaffaud ordering his men to charge, while he hid scared behind them. Both sides soon crashed into each other, yelling atop their lungs and weapons in hands. Ben gave up his bow and drew his sword, before heading towards the melee.