Off to the side, Celine watched with bated breath as man was making his rounds on Chatty body. 

As Celine herself lay there, thin streaks of blood were running down her leg. Her frail frame was half-buried under the staunch bandit who earlier took a liking to her.

Yet, the bandit's eyes were long listless and still. He was dead, knife wounds in his throat, and lungs, and kidneys.

At first young lady Celine planned to take advantage of the ruckus and slip into the bush, making run for her life. A criminal that had approached her was a dim guy who soon carelessly lost himself in a pleasure.

Initially shocked to near-death, girl eventually recovered and decisively seized the opportunity.

However, as soon as this black-robed man entered the scene Celine felt herself almost paralyzed.

Friend or foe, his intentions yet unclear, he moved with indiscernible motions quickly putting down more than dozen of bandits.

At that time she was overwhelmed with hope and almost happily jumped out, when the man has proceeded to force himself on Chatty.

Celine froze, unblinking, her heart racing and thoughts in a mess.

Time flew.

As muffled groans of pain from the woman died out, man stood.

He grabbed the girl by her red hair and retrieved a short hunting knife from his waist.

Then, with wide steps, raising splashes of mud and gore, he walked to the nearest bandit still lying there, his fate unknown.

Man grabbed bandit's head by the chin and parted it from the neck with a practised slice.

He then moved to the next, mumbling:

'So many rats. What is the Marshal doing?'

'Has the western border already fallen?'

It didn't matter if the enemy already had severe wounds from previous encounters, if he were missing half of his body, or if there was a nasty gaping wound just near his heart.

Man would raise the knife, make a swing, then wipe the blade off the corpse's cloth.

None were spared.

Actually there were some odd cases where the bandit would suddenly squirm and scream in the man's hands, trying to resist - albeit futile - or sprang into motion and tried to run away.

Apparently, they were playing dead, these clever ones.

The result, though, was once again predictable.

Neither from Martha, nor from a nameless Champion has Celine felt this pressure of peerless domination that man was spreading around in his wake. Academy had its fair share of ranked warriors given how many young ladies were in attendance there. And yet, among them as well, none would be this man's match.

Man would soon come to where Celine lay. Taking in mind all previous events, it didn't take much to foresee her near future. She either would have her neck severed. Or the next option.

Celine didn't hesitate anymore. She took dagger and cut the corners of her mouth to produce some blood from it. She then positioned blade against her pink undeveloped chest and pressed it hard, enduring pain and seizing any further movement.

After a while the man approached Celine as well. He didn't slow his pace or turn head and yet as he passed the young lady his eyes held imperceptible glint of ridicule.

Ignoring both the girl and the corpse on top, he proceeded then to the deeper parts of the forest, where earlier Martha was carried by a champion.

***

There, under the thick crown of a tree laced with rain drops, two naked bodies lay.

One, was a slim and toned shape of a young woman, who had her wrists tied to the trunk.

Another appeared to be a trained and muscular male torso with numerous leaves sticking to his bloodied wounds.

A what has happened to be torso's head - also was to be found around, a look of disbelief plastered in Champion's eyes.

Hearing branches snap, woman raised her face in a crown of golden hair, wet from all the pour.

Unable to see clearly, she shook her head to remove clinging locks from a forehead, and streams of rain water ran down her body, glistening and enhancing the charming curves of young woman's figure.

Martha stared at this man, who slowly advanced dragging Chatty by the hair.

Judging from her own first-hand experience, Martha could very much imagine how this person treated poor servant girl.

However, she didn't see Lady Celine accompanying him.

'Was she spared...killed?'

Man threw Chatty close to Martha.

Then he crouched.

At this time Martha, who earlier were too shocked by the rapid changes and had only recently recovered, could finally observe this person's profile.

In his squatting pose, with black garments that looked neither smooth nor rugged but somehow repelled the rain, man looked like a crow. Shoulder-long black hair and slightly squinted dark eyes, along with aquiline nose and thin lips served to further reinforce the impression. His face had two deep folds running from the eye's corners all the way down to his jaw, making him look like a man in his middle-thirties. He didn't have a large build, and his arms, rather slim, didn't look like hands of a fighter at all.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Yet as Martha summoned to the memory the instance this person appeared before her for the first time, she also remembered that feeling of immediate suppression he has casted upon her. A champion, his body lax and defenseless after he had earlier released himself without care into captured knight, took it even worse. From the moment his eyes widened in shock and until his head was lopped off this seasoned warrior just lay there prostrated like a fish on the chopping block.

Martha broke out of her reverie as man bent further into his crouching posture.

He looked over Chatty disfirgured limbs, her ruined mouth and bruised scalp.

He then traced female squire's body with his hand, clad in black glove.

'...Fourteen. Ah. Fifteen.'

He glanced at Martha and mumbled under his breath:

'Compared, this one had it much easier'

These words instantly sent chills down knight's spine. She herself had endured two assaults in succession and felt already ruined down to every cell. Chatty, this lively girl...

Man poked with his hand, pressed on young woman's belly, then took Chatty's pulse.

He then shook his head and procured short hunting knife.

He used it to cut Martha's wrists free and as she immediately tried to cover her naked body, thrusted the knife towards her, handle first.

'Someone you know?'

And then without even waiting for an answer:

'You do it.'

With deep astonishment Martha gazed upon a man as the sudden realization creeped into her mind.

'Did he mean to kill Chatty?'

'Me?'

With the right hand, while covering her ample chest with the left, Martha took the knife in a daze.

Finishing fallen horses, even comrades, was nothing new on the battlefield. The knight herself had some dark experineces in this area.

But Chatty...Were her state really beyond remedy?

Martha took a more careful look.

Girl's face received the most damage, purple and swollen all over her eyes and mouth.

Between her torn lips no teeth could be seen and even her nose was broken and dislocated in weird angle.

However, apart from crashed arms and legs, the girl didn't have any surface wounds. Perhaps, with the proper medical care?

Martha hesitated.

Man didn't glance at knight as he continued:

'Ribs too. She also lost blood'

'What, are you a doctor?'

Indeed, Martha had only some superficial knowledge in this area.

A sudden outrageous thought popped in her mind, though. From his practised actions before, it was evident that man himself was not short of medical expertise.

However, she quickly dismissed the thought. Was a man himself not the part of reason Chatty ended in her sorry states?

One-fifteenth of it, at least.

Reaching a conclusion Martha readied a knife as she brought it to Chatty beaten chest.

'Chatty...'

She held her breath and mustered all strength in resolute stab.

However the knife didn't pierce ruined girl's flesh.

At least not in the chest.

What blade has sunk into was a distorted bloodied palm full of dislocated fingers.

Trembling and dripping with even more blood this hand struggled and resisted, pushing Martha's arm away.

In a coarse and unpleasant voice, with a visible effort, the girl hissed:

'Get...the hell...away...from me!'

She pushed shocked Martha away, blade still hanging from her palm, and turned over to the crouched man.

He watched over two women's struggle indifferently, no expression reflected in his serene eyes.

'You...'

'I want to live...'

'I don't need anything'

'I'll survive'

'Just dont kill...me...on my own...'

'I will survive this!'

Still indifferent, man extended his hand and swiftly retrieved the knife from girl's wound. He glanced at it and then at servant girl again, seemingly wavering about what to do next.

Fire lit in girl's eyes, covered with red, now all dark and muddy, hair.

Then she pounced on the man.

He didn't take any action to defend himself and only met assault with scorn in his eyes, while levelling the blade to finally take the girl's life.

However, it was then, for the first moment, that man's expression has revealed glimpses of what could be called a surprise.

For this little woman didn't try to attack him.

'Don't...'

As she kept babbling with her ruined mouth girl tried to hug man's legs.

'This is what you like, right?...'

With her mangled hands she brought herself closer to man's crotch, trying to make his clothes undone.

However without a single functioning finger, with her palm stabbed, with her joints dislocated, what could she really do?

The girl just helplessly squirmed there, unable to achieve anything and yet refusing to let go.

'I still can...'

Man put his hand on Chatty's head and after a momentary pause pushed her away.

He then rose up and as his eyes turned serene again, looked over both women in indifference.

'Get dressed.'

***

Man stood to the side waiting for women to collect their things.

Where he intended to take them was not revealed and any question would be met with cold detached gaze.

Not like any of the women would dare to insist in their inquiry.

For a clothing Martha took the outfit left by fallen Champion.

Her own undergarments were torn during the savagery before and could no longer be used.

She wanted to pick up her fine graphite armor but man has gestured her not to.

'A hassle' - he said.

As for what it would be a hassle to Martha wanted to think no further with mixed emotions of hate, embarassment and even blush, leaving her disgusted with herself.

Within Champion's few possessions there also was a miniature arbalest and pack of thin darts, each of them laced with glistening poison.

As Martha held this weapon in her hand she couldn't help but hesitate. However, going back to this man's performance she ultimately dropped the notion.

The confidence with which he has left women for a while to their own devices spoke volumes and was also likely a form of a test.

There have been another thing that attracted her attention.

A fine little pendant with image of beautiful mature woman had been cast into white gold. The only artwork on pendant itself were two gravured words 'My Elise'.

After a minute thought Martha took this memento as well.

She also collected some clothing for Chatty, but servant girl only pushed her offerings away.

She gathered some rags on her own and stuck to man like a dog.

As trio was leaving the place in a silence, Martha moved in the rear, her eyes searching the grounds.

It a distant corner with a sudden surge of hope she noticed lank female body lying underneath a male's corpse, her head surprisingly intact.

However the glints of hope went off immediately as Martha took notice of an ominous blade seated in young woman's chest.

Martha hung her head and murmured in a soft voice:

'Lady Celine...you forgive me too.'

With this, the party finally left.

***

The rain has seized its murky veil and sun glittered on the lavish green of the forest.

Flies began to assemble in clouds on the field, preparing for auspicious feast on corpses.

On a snow-white leg of a young girl a slick streak of dried blood has suddenly broken its fine line as the leg moved.

Girl sat up, slowly recovering her posture, and pulled the dagger out of what was painful but, cleverly covered, superficial wound.

She then threw up and lay back on the grass, unmoving and staring into the sky where sun was passing its course like it did on any other day.