“He’s the leader of the company that attempted to assassinate the Crown Prince.” Ayla offered without saying anything else about her relationship to him. It would only get in the way. To Ayla at that moment he was there because he was hired to be there. It meant that he was going to bar their path. On the other hand, she knew that Becker would likely avoid killing her, at least. She could not say the same for Miller. Then there was the matter of Hans and the woman.
Becker scratched his square, shadowed chin. “Well... Maybe that's true but I dunno who this Becker person is. I'm just a no-name Mercenary.” He claimed unenthusiastically. He bent forward, ready to draw, as he stared Ayla down. He added in an equally unconvincing tone.
“I certainly never seen this girl before in my life.”
Ayla exhaled sharply through her nose. Becker smirked at her. The two exchanged a knowing look as Miller tapped Ayla and leaned in to ask her about the man she obviously knew.
“Is he strong?”
Ayla nodded. “Yes.” She tried to appraise the current Becker, but it was difficult.
`In my past life he had reached the point where he was on par with a Named Knight sometime after this incident. Maybe a year or so? When he was killed he had Shape to his Aura. If he has that now we're in trouble.` A thought occurred to her.
“Hey, Becker.”
“Yeah?” He answered without thinking.
Miller pointed over Ayla’s shoulder at him. “You just answered to Becker, 'random merc.'”
Backer's mouth opened and closed a few times in shock. His face became cherry red. “W-wuh- You see...” He gritted his teeth.
“Oh who cares! Fine, yeah, it's me. Ayla, don’t suppose you and your friend’ll sit yourselves down in one of those rooms and wait for us to leave?” She levelled a calm, sterile look at him. He sighed.
“Didn’t think so… Thought you were gonna be in the Capital with His Imperial Highness?”
“I thought you were an assassin.” Miller accused.
Becker retorted. “I don’t take credit for that! I’m a loyal citizen! Ayla, tell him it was Hugo!”
“Uhh. What?” Miller lifted a brow. Ayla kept her eyes forward. She ignored his request.
“Becker, have you mastered Shape yet?”
“No?” He said straight away.
“Pffft.” Miller wheezed and pointed while holding his stomach.
“Why would you say that!?”
Becker's face scrunched up in rage. “Sh-shut the fuck up!”
Ayla inhaled deeply. “Miller. I still don't know if I can beat him. He is definitely stronger than you. But-”
“I follow your lead.” Miller interrupted.
“I'll figure something out.” He whispered from behind.
“The general idea I get is that you need to slip by him to get to Hans before anything bad happens, and I need to occupy him, right? Because neither of us can beat him in a timely manner.”
Ayla nodded. `In times like this, I'm reminded how good of a Knight Miller is.` She felt relieved to have him at her back.
“I have a plan, though. Follow close. It'll give you a better shot.”
“Got it. On your signal.” Miller gave her shoulder a pat to show her he was ready.
“Go!” Ayla rushed down the hall at full speed.
“Your speed doesn't frighten me, Lady. You can't nick me at all with your noodle arms.” Becker announced proudly.The gladius was a sword that could be swung effectively in the narrow hall, so she had to give respect to it. He placed himself directly between the two walls with a wide stance, covering as much of the space as possible while guarding as much of his body as possible with the blade pointing up diagonally. Ayla glared hard and released her Aura as if she was about to attack. Becker gritted his teeth and braced..
“Try it! It’s useless.”
Just as she was about to reach him with full momentum and posture that suggested a serious charge, she dropped down below his guard. It was unexpected. Becker looked down, following her movement. He shifted his guard to protect his vitals, but those were not what she was aiming for, since it was useless like he said. Ayla kicked up into the pommel of his sword with as much strength as she could muster from beneath. The Knight then slid under his wide stance and rolled into a kneeling position behind him. Becker blinked and tried to turn around with his blade to attack, but before he could he felt it being held by something.
He looked up and was embarrassed to see it stuck into the blackwood ceiling at an angle.
“Are you kidding me!?” As he was about to yank it down Miller came through. Becker looked at him and did not see the gauntleted fist until it collided with his nose and sent him stumbling back. When Becker recovered the mercenary noticed that he had been pushed back from where his sword was stuck and Miller was raising his fists. Becker eyed the big sword on Miller's back and laughed, loosening up.
“Oh! I get it. You got no choice. Haha! Looks like we're both stuck, but I think my firsts are harder than yours. Besides, jokes on you. Boss lady said Ayla could be allowed through.” He fanned his face before pointing out his nose. It was a little red but it looked completely fine. Behind him Ayla rushed into the room at the end of the hall and let the door shut behind her. Becker pointed to his nose.
“See? Not even a scratch.”
“My bad, I guess it was always flat and ugly.”
“Harsh.” Becker complained.
“You talk to Ayla like you know her pretty well, but she’s pretty indifferent towards you.”
Becker nodded, trying to make a move for his sword. Miller stepped and warded the man off with a panch that he had to step back from.
“Now the Hall’s working in your favour…”
“That’s the idea. But are you avoiding the question?”
“That’s just what she’s like.That girl left me behind a long time ago. Doubt she even thinks about it all that much. Can’t fault her for it. I’m a mean idiot.” Becker raised his own fists and began to step forward.
“I'm gonna push you back, now. A Knight like you doesn't know brawling like I do. Then I'll take my sword and nothing's gonna stop me from cutting you to ribbons, kid.”
“You talk tough but I can read between the lines that you just wanna make space and run like a scared bird.” Miller taunted.
Becker lowered his body and lunged forward, leading with a jab. Miller tried to weave forward and deflect it off his guard, but he was also pushed back just from the force. He was aware that the sword was stuck just behind his left shoulder. If he turned to secure it for himself he could be caught out. The mercenary landed another blow solidly on Miller's block and sent him back another foot until the sword was stuck right over his left shoulder. Becker was huge, to say the least, and had at least a decade on Miller.
`He hits like a horse.` He took one more hit before readying himself again with a lower stance.
“Hey... Did you say that a Knight doesn't know brawling?”
“Yeah? So what?” Becker shifted on his feet and stepped forward again with his right foot, aiming to send Miller back another foot to gain steady ground as he had been doing the whole time. He looked down as his punch connected, feeling something was off. When he looked, Miller had leaned back and grabbed Becker by his wrist, deflecting the fist down into his cuirass instead of his face. He then reached forward and grabbed Becker's collar with his other hand and turned his whole body.
“I learned this from Steel-Wall!” He slid his leg back, under Becker, then bent his whole body forward and flipped the huge man over his shoulder another few feet away from the sword, just on the opposite side. The feat of getting the massive fellow over in such a way was monumental. It required Miller to get as low as possible while performing the grapple. Becker landed on his back, then lifted his legs and kicked up onto his feet from a lying position. He looked quite angry once he was up.
“Fucks sake! Shoulda done this from the start.” He cracked his neck and flexed his body.
“Huh?” Miller wheezed as a force like a strong, solid wind hit him, lifting him off his feet and launching him back down the hall. He landed on his back, but immediately jumped back up the same way Becker had while gritting his teeth. He was matching Becker's energy as best he could to buy time. He was happy to be between him and the door Ayla ran through. He could not easily buy the claim that he was supposed to let her go.
“That's Aura, huh? Felt like wind…”
“Yep. You're done. It’s cute that you expected me to tell the truth when she asked if I had Shape yet. I’m in the beginning stages and the shape is wind.” He grabbed his sword easily from where it was jammed into the ceiling and swung it around in a leisurely manner.
“Gonna be frank with you, kid. You’re just annoying enough that if you try to hinder me from getting away I’ll have to kill you.” He watched with wide eyes as Miller carefully began to draw his sword in the narrow hall.
“You gonna use it like a rod and joust at me?” Becker rolled his hand in a circle. A blast of wind down the hall forced Miller back a few more steps. He fought the current in what had essentially become a wind tunnel and stepped forward in an unassuming manner. Miller gripped his blade at the bottom of the pommel and just below the guard as he pulled it free of his scabbard, then wound it back with a wide grip, breathing in and out steadily. Becker looked at the blackwood hall, then at Miller’s stance and grinned widely.
“No way… Alright, I wanna see this. Bring it on, pup.”
Miller released the air in his lungs with a shout and swung in a full arc with no care for the space he was in. Becker's eyes followed the sword with excitement as it hit the blackwood ceiling, then kept going. It cut through a support beam across the ceiling to finally launch splinters down towards Becker’s eyes. He blinked them away easily while instinctively lifting his sword to block at just the right time. He thought that there would be no way for a battle-sword to swing through that much Blackwood while still having enough power to do anything. It collided with his sword loudly. Becker held his sword with one hand at first, then as his arm shook he gripped it with both and expended energy to steel himself. He became solid. It was not strong enough to break through his defences at all. He smirked. Then, as he was feeling confident the floor beneath him cracked and Miller's blade kept pushing down with a driving force. Becker cursed as he was pushed through the blackwood floor into the stone warehouse area below. Shards and splinters cascaded down around the surprised merc.
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Miller took a deep breath and looked down. He saw Becker staring up at him, still on his feet. He looked ready to jump back up.As he did, Miller jumped down and swung his battle-sword in mid air down towards Becker who moved himself in mid air with wind to dodge. Miller struck and made a crater that sent stone dust sweeping out from the centre of where his sword landed.
“Now...” Miller breathed out once more before taking in another big breath and resting his sword on his shoulder in the wide space.
“I have enough room to swing my sword and you no longer got that narrow space.”
Becker huffed, rolling his shoulder “Alright, I approve. You can date my trainee.” He stated invitingly as Miller dashed forward. The Knight fumbled, giving Becker room to step back with a grin.
“W-what? Who?” Miller blinked. He shook it off, watching the tip of his sword sail just an inch away from Becker’s face. He kept the momentum from the swing and brought it around as he took long steps forward.
“But-” Becker continued, watching Miller take those steps while wheeling his sword around over his head to gain momentum.
“Don't you think you're being a bit cocky?” As the Knight brought a wrath strike down upon Becker's head Miller felt himself being lifted up again and pushed up and away. The sword’s momentum carried down and flew out of his hands as his arms extended and it hit nothing. Becker rushed forward, not wasting any time to catch the Knight in mid air while he could not defend himself. Just as he was about to get within reach Becker stopped in mid lunge.
“Time’s up, huh?”
Miller landed on his back again and whined. “Dammit.” He realised that he could see his breath. He couldn't before. He felt cool relief wash over him.
“Lucky...”
“Unlucky…” Becker tried to lift his boots, but they were frozen to the ground. The area around him was beginning to freeze over even more. He tried to use wind to blow the cold away, but the freezing air only became biting, and his own power turned on him. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder to see a tall, bulky man in silver armour with black fur lining around the collar. A grizzled Knight with a greying beard and dark, sunken eyes standing at the top where Miller made the hole. He stepped down and landed easily a few feet away with even bending his legs.
“Frostbite? Worst case just showed up.” Becker muttered.
“Not even close.” Rast remarked in a gravelly tone as he eyed Becker up and down. Passively, his boots were solidifying with ice and it was starting to crawl up the man's legs.
“Not even gonna draw your sword?”
“Frostbite. Starts in the digits. Then the extremities. Usually you fall into a deep sleep and die in the snow before it gets worse than that. Feeling yourself being frozen to death while your nerves still work is a terrifying thing.” Rast froze Becker up to his neck. The merc was shivering intensely. He could not move.
“Lucky for you we take prisoners. So you may only lose a few fingers and toes, depending on how you handle the cold.” He left Becker shivering in his prison and walked past towards Miller. He stopped in front of the Knight laying on his back, groaning and looked up at the hole. The Knight-Captain offered frankly.
“You did okay.”
“How's Ayla?” Miller asked immediately.
Ayla burst through the door and found herself in the small, windowless room. Hans was sleeping on the single bed. It did not look like a peaceful slumber, as he was stirring and mumbling constantly. Standing passively beside the bed with her hands folded in front of her green-stained apron was the silver-eyed woman. Ayla took a step forward and wasted no time drawing her sword and placing it at the woman’s neck.
“What did you do to him? What are your plans?” She questioned desperately.
Haron stood perfectly still in acknowledgment of the threat that Ayla’s sword against her vulnerable neck represented. She responded very frankly and honestly, in a way that Ayla could not deny.
“I fed him a mixture. A tooth and a claw from a Divine Beast. Reus. On the Full Moon Hans will transform into an incredibly powerful Werewolf that should have a temperament suitable to infect many people in Castezin and bring about a disaster.” She cocked her head sweetly.
“Does that answer your question?”
Ayla was shaking. With her free hand she held her head tightly in complete despair. “Why...”
“Like I said, our goal-”
“No!.” Ayla’s eyes lit up with a crazed, pale light. Haron stepped back instinctively, showing a bit of uncharacteristic worry. There was confusion, followed by calculation in the look that Haron returned.
“Why’d you tell me that!?” Ayla screamed back loudly in the woman's face.
Haron was stone still and silent for a few moments. She finally just remarked in a curious tone.
“I do not understand why you care so deeply about this. How could you? This is a terrible thing, yes, but-” She stopped as Ayla stumbled forward and effortlessly cut across Haron's neck with her sword. The woman did not move, then turned around as if undeterred by a slashed throat. She turned and stared down at Hans.
“Why this fellow in particular? He may as well have been a random individual, but you somehow knew to try and protect him from the exact thing he would become.” She kept speaking, her neck shimmering for a moment. Haron followed Ayla curiously with her gaze as, once the girl knew that she could not kill Haron she ignored her, like an animal that lost sight of its prey.
She watched Ayla crawl onto the bed on her knees next to the sleeping Hans, covering her face with one hand while the other held her sword in a coiled, but tentative position, ready to strike. She was muttering, twitching and rocking back and forth.
“Who is he to you, really? A Holy Symbol made specifically for you is not something you give away to just anyone.”
Ayla ignored the woman. Hans seemed to not be in pain while he slept. She stared down at him dejectedly.
`How can I change if things don’t change? If Hans turns and becomes the albino that began the plague things will be on the exact same track… What’s the point? What’s the point in me being here if nothing can change?` Her eyes rested on his thin neck. She leaned close, unable to let go of her sword in her right, she wrapped her left around his vulnerable neck and ran her thumb along the line that she knew marked an important artery. For good measure she climbed over him and rested the blade just below where she gripped. Ayla smiled and brightened.
`No. This makes sense. This is why I’m here! I can kill him so easily, because I’m-` She threw her head back and tried to throw her sword away but she could not let go. She covered her face with her hand and frowned deeply.
“Can’t change… Can’t change… No matter what I do… Can’t… I can’t…” She muttered. Running the dilemma through her mind over and over again.
Ayla stopped and turned to the woman. “Give me a reason. A- A reason to not have to think.” She begged lifelessly.
“Is it certain he'll turn?” Ayla asked.
“I believe so.” Haron advised. Ayla smiled widely and almost did the deed right then and there, but she was too slow. Haron’s next words ruined her perfect justification.
“There is less than a one percent chance he resists turning thanks to the Symbol you gave him.”
“Bad... Such bad odds.” Ayla shook her head. Her heart and head pounded.
“As good as gone.” In her mind images of the past flashed by. The many she killed on better odds for all the same reasons. Reasons she was given. Reasons she made for herself. A number was an excuse. The truth of the matter; the honest and simple truth was she wanted to do it. To make everything go away in the easiest and most comfortable and familiar way possible. A number mattered so little because regardless of the ratio it was always just describing a chance. A chance that would be taken by her.
`If the odds were reversed… I would’ve killed him in my old life with just a one-percent chance he turns because-` She stopped and looked over.
“I am so sorry, Ayla.” Haron offered in a genuine tone.
“You… are so addled. Your mind is a mess of emotions where they are intrusive, and a lack of them where you need them. There is so much that must have been difficult for you. The rhythm you would naturally fall into because of this. Those unbearable urges and thoughts…” She lowered her head shamefully.
“This is my fault.”
“Of course it's your fault!” She screamed back at the woman. Ayla leapt off the bed and tried to push Haron against the wall, but she moved right through her, standing back to back to the woman on the other side, breathing heavily.
“You did this to him…” She turned around and walked back through the illusion to stand at Hans’s bedside.
Haron was silent for a while. She averted her eyes uncomfortably. “I have to go. Ayla…”
“What?” She choked out, gripping her sword tight enough to bruise her palm.
“I am genuinely sorry for making this a difficult choice. If it helps you at all, please hear me when I say that things have already changed. I know for a fact that they have.” Haron began to slowly fade into thin air.
Ayla shot a look over to the woman as she was almost gone. “How do you know that!?” Haron was not smiling. She looked sad and conflicted.
“Tell me!” Ayla demanded, but she was speaking to air. Haron had left her alone with Hans. There was no one there to judge her. There was no one that could know the odds or what they meant. There was just a boy that had a chance of becoming a disaster and her, a sword that could choose between one, or a possible, innumerable thousands. She wished that she knew how things had already changed. She brought her sword in front of her and stared down at the hand holding it.
`I can’t let go of it. Everything tells me to kill him. It’s the only certainty. Killing him… If he dies an innocent I’ve just killed one more human being in a sea of many. If he would become a monster, I have redeemed and saved so many of the lives that ended in my past life.` Her lip quivered.
“Why is it so hard, then!?” She breathed, almost hyperventilating, hugging herself while bending forward to stop herself from doing what she wanted to do. After a minute she coiled her sword over her left shoulder, as if to strike. Slowly, one finger at a time she let go until it dropped to the floor. At that moment she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“M-Miller? Becker?” She glanced back over her shoulder, with tears welling up. Instead of one of those faces she expected it was the Duke staring into her through his golden eyes. As he stared into hers she stopped shaking and writhing like something was trying to escape her skin. The strangest thing she felt was a sense of calm. It was as if his eyes met hers with understanding.
“You performed exceptionally on all fronts, Dame. We handle things from this point on.” His voice was not warm, or comforting in a normal sense. It was warm like a rock that shielded her from the wind and rain. She could calm down and rest because he would handle it all.