“Hey! Wake up!”
Gideon grudgingly opened his eyes. Morning sunlight shone into the room through the blinds, illuminating Surelin as she stood over him. Her hand was on his shoulder.
He closed his eyes, grumbling. “...What you want?”
“You woke me up! You were shouting.”
“Who was shouting?” he asked drowsily.
“You were! You said something about dancing.”
Slowly, he pushed himself up into a seated position, leaning back against the couch. He rubbed his face with a heavy sigh.
She studied him quizzically. “I think it’s very strange for someone like you to dream about something like that.”
His hands dropped to his lap. “Did I say dancing, or dance?”
“Um, it may have been dance.”
“Dance was my father’s name.”
She looked surprised. “I see…that’s an unusual name. You were dreaming of him?”
He looked away from her and scanned the room, eventually focusing on the windows.
“We need to get going.”
Surelin’s gaze lingered on him for a few moments before she turned to her ruck. She fiddled with the straps, clearly feeling awkward about having her question ignored.
Gideon scooted across the couch towards his own ruck and opened it. He began to transfer the sacks of denars into it, dreading its future weight on his back.
“Hey, would you mind carrying one of these sacks?”
She froze up for a second and turned around, leveling an annoyed stare on him.
“I’m asking nicely,” he said sheepishly.
Her look softened a little. “...I suppose I could. Because you asked nicely.”
He lifted a sack off the ground and held it up to her. She took it, and carefully packed it into her ruck.
“Do I have enough time to change?”
“Mhmm. I need to put all my shit on, anyway.”
She scoffed. “Honestly. You’re so vulgar. Is it really so hard to say something without cursing?”
“Shit, what’s wrong with cursing? It’s fun. Same way ass-licking is fun. You should fucking try it sometime.”
He chuckled as she stormed off to the bathroom, holding a change of clothing in her hands.
I’m gonna get her to curse at some point.
Gideon stood up from the couch and stretched loudly before bending down for his armor, throwing it all on quickly. With that done, he strapped his claymore’s sheath to his chest.
Surelin stepped out of the bathroom in her new outfit—a tan blouse and brown shorts, her hair tied back in a loose ponytail. She looked on as Gideon bent down to pick up his ruck.
“Aren’t we going to eat breakfast first?”
He grunted with effort as he stood himself up. It was like trying to stand with someone hanging off his shoulders.
“The caravan will have food for us. Probably.”
“Well, that isn’t very reassuring.”
He shrugged—a difficult gesture to pull off with the ruck on his shoulders. “We’ll figure it out. Hurry up, we’re wasting precious time.”
She walked over to her ruck and bent over to pick it up, but discovered she could barely lift it.
Gideon lifted it off the ground and held it up for her.
“I’ll help you out, noodles.”
She shot him a perplexed look before turning around and slipping her shoulders beneath the straps.
“Noodles? What does that mean?”
“Yeah, noodle arms and noodle legs. ‘Cause you’re so scrawny.”
Her reply was nearly instant. “Well you have a noodle brain!”
It surprised him, and he laughed loudly. She turned around to face him, smirking.
A grin remained on his face after his laughter ended.
“Let’s go. I can’t wait to get the fuck out of this city.”
----------------------------------------
Kenan was still asleep as Gideon and Surelin exited the inn’s lobby. They stepped out into the plaza, which was totally empty and still—quiet except for the sound of water spewing into the basin from Kaan’s mouth. Their footsteps on the marble tile were obnoxiously loud as they crossed the plaza in the direction of the forum. For some inexplicable reason it made Gideon feel embarrassed.
There wasn’t much activity in the rich sector of the forum in the early morning hours. When they did see people, it was usually uniformed workers or laborers unloading goods from horse-drawn carts, preparing their shops or restaurants for the work day. None of them so much as glanced at Gideon and Surelin as they walked by, for which he felt grateful.
They entered the lower class sector of the forum, where a series of identical scenes were playing out. Surelin gave Gideon a hopeful look as they passed the soup restaurant from the night before, but he simply shook his head. She seemed somewhat crestfallen, but didn’t voice any disappointment.
The walk through the rest of the forum was short and fairly pleasant. With no people clogging up the street and getting in their way, they reached the forum’s east side entrance in less than ten minutes.
The street narrowed outside of the forum, and led through a middle-class residential neighborhood. Multi-story homes crowded the narrow street as it gradually turned in a north-eastern direction through the city. There was much more ambient noise in this area: dogs barking in the distance, muted sounds of people chatting indoors, pots and pans clattering, and occasionally the distant crowing of a rooster.
The smell of cooking breakfast wafted over them constantly as they walked along the street. Gideon’s stomach rumbled.
Surelin looked at him. “Where exactly are we going?”
“The north gate,” he said. “This side street should spit out onto the thoroughfare soon. Once we’re on it, we’ll reach the gate in no time.”
“Okay. Oh, it smells so good! I want to stop at one of these homes and ask if they’d let me in for breakfast.”
Gideon snorted. “Well, you could try, but I don’t think—”
He stopped dead in his tracks. Surelin walked a few more steps before she stopped as well.
“What is it?”
Ahead of them, two hundred feet away, three armed men were walking down the street towards them. They walked line abreast, spaced out wide enough to swing their weapons freely.
Gideon recognized the stocky round-headed man in the middle, and growled with rapidly growing anger as they approached.
“Romus.”
Surelin was deeply alarmed, and she looked back and forth between his face and the men several times. “What? What’s wrong? Tell me! Are they hostile?”
There’s only one reason for him to show up like this.
He could barely control his anger as he dropped his ruck to the street behind him. Surelin stared at him fearfully as she trotted over to stand a bit closer.
The trio came to a stop well out of range of Gideon's claymore. He now recognized the two men accompanying Romus. They’d fought in the arena yesterday, and ran away along with everyone else. The two men were Levidians like Romus, with pale skin, red hair and curly beards, but both were several inches taller than him. They seemed young, perhaps not even out of their teens, yet. Their stringy arm and leg muscles made them seem almost slender in comparison to Romus's bulky physique. Both wore chainmail hauberks over their cloth shirts and leggings. The one on Gideon’s left had a sheathed saber hanging from his belt, the one on the right had a sheathed broadsword, and held a round buckler in his left hand.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
As far as Gideon could tell, Romus hadn’t changed his clothing since he'd last seen him. His armor was virtually identical to the armor Gideon was wearing. The breastplate and shoulder pads were both leather, and his metal round shield was strapped to his back. A broadsword hung from his belt off his left hip, sheathed. He had a cocksure grin on his face as Gideon’s eyes darted angrily between the three men.
Romus nodded amiably, smiling. “Mornin’ Giddy! How y’all doin’?”
Gideon shook his head. “You dumb motherfucker.”
“Aw, c’mon now! That ain’t no way to treat an old acquaintance. ‘Specially when you just happen upon ‘em!”
“Explain your plan to me, dumb fuck, because it’s not making much sense from where I’m standing."
Gideon gestured at the houses around them before continuing. “You really thought the best way to do this was to attack us in the street during breakfast? In front of all these houses full of witnesses?”
The smile faded from Romus’s face. “Yer a real surly bastard, know that? It’s why you ain’t got no friends.”
Romus lifted his hands and shrugged casually. “Well there I was, jus’ walkin’ along the street with my new partners, headin’ fer the forum, when we come across this big angry fella, stumblin’ around'n swingin’ a sword! He come at us, 'n there weren’t nothin’ we could do ‘cept defend ourselves. It was a real shame.”
He narrowed his eyes. “They’ll believe it, Giddy, ‘cause we got protection. A wealthy fella’s lookin’ out fer us.”
Gideon seethed with anger. “Gonna be pretty hard to tell any lies if you’re fucking dead.”
The remaining pretense disappeared from Romus's face. “C’mon. Jus’ hand over the money'n the girl. No one’s gotta die here, boy! Walk away! You feel like dyin' over this?”
“Get fucked!”
Surelin tugged at Gideon's arm. “Let’s just run, Gideon! Please!”
He replied while staring at Romus. “Go ahead. Run.”
She searched the side of his face, and Gideon turned to address her.
“I’m serious. Run! If they kill me they’re going to come for you.”
A look of fearful desperation flashed across her face. After a few seconds of hesitation she dropped her hand from his arm and ran as fast as she could, back towards the forum.
Gideon looked between Romus’s companions as he unstrapped his claymore’s sheath from his chest.
“You two. I’m about to kill that motherfucker.” He nodded towards Romus. “If you get in my way, I’ll kill you first.”
The one with the buckler laughed. “Fuck no I ain’t! Yer ass is the biggest payday I’ve ever had!”
The saber Levidian grinned. “The girl was fine after all! Told ya. Think they’ll mind if we fuck her once or twice ‘fore we hand ‘er over?”
“You finish the job first, son,” Romus said sharply. “Then we talk about the spoils.”
Gideon unsheathed his claymore, and tossed the sheath off to the side. He was too angry to be afraid, and he glared at Romus as he entered the Window guard.
Romus gave him a tight smile, and crossed his arms. He backed up as his companions drew their weapons.
Gideon leapt out of his stance and sprinted toward the Levidian on the left. When he was in range he swung his claymore from the right, roaring at the top of his lungs. The Levidian lifted his saber to block the swing, and his partner jabbed at Gideon with his broadsword. Gideon jumped backwards out of the way just in time, swinging from the left to cover his retreat.
He roared again as he parried a follow-up thrust from the saber Levidian, and began to make reckless swings in their general direction. The swings were mostly unaimed, but they were relentless. He swung tirelessly, again and again at random angles, giving them no opportunity to step in and parry.
The Levidians backed up, giving up ground as Gideon steadily advanced on them. The strategy he'd decided on was to make any of their attempts to move into striking range as risky as possible, allowing him to herd them into a more advantageous position. The claymore would certainly strike them long before they could get into range with their own weapons, and Gideon’s swings were so wild and unpredictable that taking a single step forward would be putting themselves in immediate danger.
Gideon pushed forward harder, at walking speed. He was rapidly draining his own stamina in order to hold on to the initiative, and if they tried a coordinated attack the whole gambit would likely fail.
But the Levidians were inexperienced. They gradually drifted closer to each other as they retreated, and in the meantime neglected their footing.
When the Levidians were close enough to shake hands, Gideon lunged at them. The saber Levidian tried to leap out of the way, and the back of his left heel landed squarely on his companion’s boot.
For one brief instant, they both stumbled. It was the moment Gideon had been waiting for, the mistake he’d been herding them into.
He swiftly raised his claymore above his head and chopped at the saber Levidian’s right shoulder. It cut easily through the chainmail, and sank deep into the cloth, flesh, and bone underneath.
The saber Levidian gasped with shock as he fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder. Dark red blood shot out of the wound, splattering onto the street as he thrashed about and screamed in tremendous agony.
The other Levidian regained his footing and swung down at Gideon. He managed to parry it, and took several steps backwards.
Sweat poured down Gideon’s face, and he panted heavily. The remaining Levidian seemed to finally realize he had bitten off more than he could chew, and raised his buckler in front of him defensively as he backed away.
Gideon entered the Window guard again and approached him. He stood just out of range of the Levidian’s broadsword and fired thrusts at the buckler. The claymore’s tip bounced off the buckler again and again, and occasionally slid against the buckler’s rim whenever the Levidian failed to fully block in time.
The Levidian frantically angled and reangled his buckler to protect himself from Gideon’s persistent assault. There was little the young Levidian could do as Gideon exercised total control over the fight’s tempo. Finally, the Levidian failed to block in time, and the edge of Gideon’s claymore cut his left forearm open. The Levidian shouted with alarm and swung desperately at Gideon—a slow, poorly aimed attack, well out of range, that left him wide open.
Gideon swung as hard as he could at the opening. The claymore’s edge ripped through the chainmail protecting the Levidian’s upper bicep, slicing it open, exposing bloody muscle and milky white bone to the free air.
The Levidian let out a blood curdling scream as his broadsword slipped from his hand. He looked down at his destroyed arm and began to wail pitifully. Gideon stood back, watching as the Levidian turned and hobbled away past Romus, moaning and crying in pain as his arm hung limply, blood dripping off his fingers.
The other Levidian still screamed in agony where he lay on the street. Gideon began to approach Romus, his claymore held low.
His expression was murderous, his voice full of enmity.
“Decided not to help them?”
Romus gave him a nonchalant grin and uncrossed his arms. He reached behind his back for his shield, and drew his sword.
“‘Course! Promised, didn’t I? That we’d settle it man to man.”
“Sure, but only after you let them fight me.”
“Aw, lighten up, Giddy! It’d be a cryin’ shame if you felt all bitter’n heartbroken ‘fore you die.”
They began to circle one another. Romus rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before raising his shield.
There had been no bad swordsmen in the Singing Blades. They had sparred with one another constantly—on campaign, between contracts, whenever possible, honing their skills against each other in mostly amiable matches. Gideon had never sparred with Romus, but he had sparred with other shield bearers before. They were tough, adaptable opponents, but also predictable. The shield was the backbone of their entire fighting style, and there were ways to exploit it.
Gideon abruptly launched himself at Romus, swinging hard from the left towards Romus’s shins. Romus easily blocked the swing with his shield, but then Gideon quickly whipped his claymore around behind his head, bringing it down from the right.
Romus blocked the second swing handily, and swiped at Gideon with his sword. Gideon leapt backwards, grimacing as Romus chuckled darkly.
“Gotta do better’n that, boy....”
Gideon glared at him as they resumed circling. There were two ways to break a stubborn clam out of its shell—pound through it, or wait patiently for it to open.
He lowered the claymore’s tip to the ground. Romus let out some harsh laughter.
“Fool’s guard! Good guard for a fool.”
Gideon stopped circling and approached Romus cautiously. He held the claymore’s tip low to the ground and led with his left foot, shuffling towards him.
Romus stopped moving, settling into a defensive crouch as Gideon closed in. He entered the claymore’s range and continued on, inching towards Romus while watching for the slightest movement.
Romus's blue eyes gleamed from behind his shield as Gideon entered the range of his broadsword. The claymore’s tip hovered above the ground, mere inches away from the shield. Barely three feet of space remained between them. Romus might be able to attack before Gideon could react in time, but risking it was the only way to draw him out.
Gideon took a step to his right, trying to force Romus to move, and Romus’s leg suddenly shot out from underneath his shield, hitting Gideon square in the stomach. His breath left him as he stumbled backwards, and he saw Romus’s sword shining in the sky above him.
An intense, searing pain lanced across Gideon's left shoulder and collarbone. A yelp of surprise and pain left him as he swung awkwardly at Romus’s outstretched arm, missing it by more than a foot.
Gideon ended his retreat far out of range of Romus's broadsword and looked down at himself while gasping for breath. There was a cut running straight through his left shoulder pad down to his breastplate, ending just below the collar. Bright red blood gushed from the wound, already soaking his clothing. But it clearly wasn't fatal, and the pain felt distant, somehow. His arm still seemed to be functioning.
Romus was jovial. “Gonna carve you into ity bity pieces, boy! You make sure'n tell Dance I was the one who sent ya to hell.”
Furious, Gideon strode towards him. Once in range, he put all his strength into a swing aimed squarely at Romus’s shield. It collided with a massive, ear splitting bang, and a strange, discordant melody began to ring out as Gideon swung at the shield again and again.
After a dozen swings, Romus’s broadsword flashed towards him, and Gideon just barely managed to dodge out of the way.
“Y'aint doin' nothin' that way, stupid,” Romus growled.
Gideon stubbornly resumed the attack, beating his claymore against the shield, trying to force a response from Romus. Gideon saw Romus roll forward onto the balls of his feet, and realized his best chance had just come.
Just as Gideon moved to swing his claymore once again, Romus began a swing of his own. Gideon feinted right, and then swung left with all the strength he could muster.
The claymore’s tip connected with Romus’s exposed right arm, slicing it horizontally along his forearm and elbow. His thrusting broadsword missed Gideon’s chin by inches.
As Romus began to scream, Gideon followed up with another swing. It sliced Romus's throat open, and blood sprayed across the inside of his shield.
Romus coughed wetly and gurgled as he fell to the street, feeling at the gigantic cut in this throat with panicky fingers. A shocking amount of blood poured from it, pooling rapidly on the street around him. Gideon panted heavily, staring down at Romus as his death struggle began.
Once he'd caught his breath, he walked over and kicked away Romus’s broadsword. Then he crouched down, and flicked Romus's nose.
“Guess that's us settled.”
Pure hatred came over Romus’s face as he stared up at Gideon. He gurgled and spat out blood, then looked up into the sky. Gideon watched his face closely as the last seconds of his life played out.
When it was finally over, Gideon looked up and took stock of his surroundings. There were people standing in the windows of every nearby house, watching him. Some looked astonished, others were more indifferent. All were alert. The saber Levidian laid still and quiet on the street only a few yards away.
He heard someone walking up behind him, and stood up. It was Surelin.
“I thought you ran away,” he said flatly.
There was a complicated expression on her face as she came to a stop a few feet away from him, a mix of shock and horror.
“You just sat there and…watched him die.”
“So?”
She visibly flinched at his reply. “Why didn’t you have mercy on him?! You didn’t have to let him suffer!”
He looked down at Romus’s corpse with a deep frown. “What, these fucking bandits? Fuck ‘em. They were gonna kidnap you.”
“But you didn’t have to let him suffer! You could have ended it and been done with it, but instead you just sat there and watched! What is wrong with you?!”
Gideon walked over to where his sheath lay on the street and picked it up. He slid his claymore into it, and turned around to face Surelin, strapping it to his chest.
“It’s three times now I’ve saved your ass in the last day," he said icily. "You really want to judge me? Learn how to fend for yourself first.”
She said nothing, but looked hurt as he walked over to where his ruck lay in the street. He picked it up and put it back on, and let out a pained hiss when the strap put weight on his wounded shoulder.
“It’s time to go. The people in these houses will bring the city watch soon, if they aren’t doing it already.”