Charging spearmen was normally a terrible idea. Anton ran forward anyway, leaving his companions behind. Kelsey could probably keep up with him, Aris could not. Both of them preferred to fight at a distance anyway, and Kelsey preferred to let him do the fighting, only stepping in when she needed to.
Sometimes, that annoyed Anton. Her excuse that he needed the experience wasn’t wrong, but it still irked him to do all the work while she sat back, perfectly capable of ending a fight with a well-placed gunshot. Not this time.
Anton had never been in the city before. He’d never seen the mansion that he had been told he owned. He had a hard time seeing the mercenaries as invaders of his home.
But they were threatening Suliel. His family. That, he could get angry about.
He quickly used Discernment against the four mercenaries guarding the gate as he got up to top speed.
Balin Torrek, Level 18, Human, Veteran Spearman, Warrior/Soldier/Veteran Spearman, S: 25 T: 24 A: 22 D: 21 P: 5 W: 5 C: 6
Erwyn Karse, Level 17, Human, Veteran Spearman, Warrior/Soldier/Veteran Spearman, S: 23 T: 24 A: 22 D: 19 P: 6 W: 6 C: 4
Rheda Lyns, Level 17, Human, Veteran Spearman, Warrior/Soldier/Veteran Spearman, S: 22 T: 23 A: 21 D: 21 P: 7 W: 6 C: 4
Marvok Drent, Level 14, Human, Soldier, Warrior/Soldier, S: 21 T: 18 A: 17 D: 18 P: 4 W: 4 C: 6
Not too bad. All of them were under his level. They did have Classes that were optimised for combat, and they would have Traits that helped them in exactly this situation, but Anton wasn’t too worried.
The mercenaries had mismatched armour, but they all wore the same grey tabard. It had a marking on it, but Anton couldn’t make it out. One of them had a mail long-sleeved shirt; the others had bits of plate strapped onto a leather jerkin. Loose plate, it was sometimes called. One of the soldiers must have had a Trait that sensed for danger, because they were taking him seriously. Even though he was just one man, they levelled their spears at him, the shafts moving in eerie unison.
That was probably a formation Trait at play. Not uncommon for soldiers; they had probably been grouped up because they all had the same one. Anton kept running. It must have looked suicidal—he hadn’t bothered drawing his sword yet.
“Halt!” Balin called out. “This area is off-limits! You—”
That was as far as he got before Anton struck. At the last minute, when he was close enough to see the edges of the spears pointed at him, Anton kicked his feet forward, letting them fly out from under him.
He’d expected to roll, but he hadn’t reckoned with the slippery cobblestones. Spiderclimb worked on any hard surface, vertical or horizontal, so he hadn’t noticed how slick the road was. Instead of tumbling, he slid, dodging under the spears. They dipped down to catch him, but they were far too slow.
Anton crashed into the legs of the middle of the formation, sending Erwyn and Balin tumbling to the ground. He was moving so fast that he ended up behind them as they fell. He even had some momentum left.
Planting one foot on the ground, Anton used Spiderclimb again, affixing the foot to the stone surface. His forward motion halted, and Anton felt himself shoved to his feet as his momentum was converted into upward movement.
It was looking a lot less like suicide now. Two of the mercenaries were on the ground, having let go of their spears. The other two were slowly turning, still not sure what had happened.
Quick Attack. Quick Attack.
Anton’s sword lashed out twice, scoring hits both times. One was slightly off; it skittered off Rheda’s spaulder before cutting deeply into Rheda’s collarbone. The other sliced into the side of the neck of the lowest levelled soldier, Marvok. Both of them fell away, blood spurting from their wounds.
They were all down now, but two of them were getting up. Anton prepared for another strike.
“Mercy, Lord! We surrender!” Balin said weakly. He held his hands up placatingly.
Anton paused. The two uninjured ones still had shortswords at their belts, but they didn’t seem inclined to reach for them.
“How many of you are there?” he snapped, his sword still raised.
“There was a full half company when we started—fifty men,” Balin said quickly. “I don’t know what our losses have been, but they weren’t light.”
“Where is the wizard?”
The man stared fearfully at Anton. “How do you know—with the commander. In the forest.”
He pointed vaguely at the grounds. Where he was pointing wasn’t in line with the gate, so it didn’t mean much to Anton.
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“Where are the archers?” Kelsey said as she caught up. Aris was only a few steps behind. Balin stared at them both, but answered the question.
“I—I don’t know, exactly, he said. “There are three groups, two in the corners at the front, one on the rear side. They’ll be in the trees.”
“Can you take this squad prisoner?” Anton asked. He didn’t want to delay any longer than he had to.
“Sure,” Aris replied, pulling out her pistol. Balin looked at it warily.
“Is that… one of the guns we’ve been hearing?” he asked.
“Something like that,” Aris said. “Please don’t make me use it, Anton wants us to stay quiet.”
“Shall we treat their wounds as well?” Kelsey asked idly.
Anton looked at the two injured. The woman he’d struck in the shoulder didn’t seem too badly off, but the young soldier, Marvok, was clutching at his neck frantically. From the blood leaking through his fingers, he might not last long.
“Sure,” Anton said, turning to leave.
“One sexy skeleton nurse, coming up!” Kelsey chortled. Then her voice turned serious. “Watch out for those archers. They’re focused on the house, but they could easily turn around on you.”
Anton nodded and entered the grounds. Of his house, strange as that thought was. Once he was past the gate, there wasn’t much of a mystery in where he had to go. Fifty men had trampled quite a beaten path into the forest that shielded the corners and edges of the estate.
Anton had worried that the noise of his earlier attack would have alerted the rest of the forces, but as he crept along the trail of the invaders, he learned that there was never any danger of that. The command post of the mercenaries were not keeping their voices down.
“—need support, dammit!”
“Fifty men, and yet you can’t capture one back-country noble girl?” The cold and arrogant voice that spoke was dripping with scorn.
“And her guards. The forces here are nothing like we were told to expect!” This voice sounded more natural to Anton’s ears.
“Are they not? Ten human guards. Two skeleton warriors, a well-known and weak type of undead. How, exactly, did they pose a problem for your company?”
“Something took out our infiltrators,” the frustrated voice replied. “And those new weapons are deadly! They can’t be blocked or parried!”
“No one has knowledge of the new weapons yet,” the arrogant voice said. “You should be grateful for the chance to see them in action before anyone else.”
“Yeah,” the frustrated voice said sarcastically. “It’s been an educational experience for all our casualties.”
“The possibilities of losses were accounted for in our contract.”
Anton was close enough, now, to peer through the undergrowth and see who was talking. The arrogant voice belonged to a man in robes. Anton didn’t need to guess that he was a wizard. He could see a halo of magic surrounding the man as well as a glimmer of magic from the core hanging beneath his robes.
The other man was wearing heavy chain. He must be the company commander. He had the lighter skin of a half-breed like Anton, and he looked as frustrated as he sounded.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “This isn’t about the contract. If this goes on, we might not be in a position to pull out all our bodies.”
The other occupants of the clearing weren’t taking part in the conversation. They were wounded. A dozen men nursed shattered limbs or bleeding torso wounds while a single woman moved among them, doing their best to staunch the bleeding.
The wizard rounded on the commander. “You have to,” he insisted. “If any of your fallen are identified, then—”
“It’ll come back to the Grey Oaths. If there’s enough evidence for the King to send his Investigators in, we’re not gonna stand up to that. Your involvement will come out.”
“Unacceptable,” the wizard hissed. Then he stiffened. “However, it may be too late. He turned to look directly at Anton, hidden in the bushes.
Anton cursed to himself. He quickly used Delver’s Discernment to see what he was dealing with.
Veylan Corbraith, Level 19, Human, Magister, Apprentice Mage/Mage/Magister, S: 3 T: 5 A: 4 D: 25 P: 41 W: 30 C: 6
Okay, what? Anton thought. Did all wizards have such a high Perception? No wonder he’d been spotted.
He stepped out of the undergrowth and started walking calmly toward them.
“It is too late,” he agreed. “The King has been informed, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re all hung as bandits.”
He spared a quick glance around the clearing. None of the wounded looked like they were going to interfere, and from the way the medic was furiously concentrating on her tasks, she wasn’t going to take action either. That left the commander.
Rhenar Vhorrin, Level 27, Human, Commander, Warrior/Soldier/(broken) Sergeant/Commander, S: 25 T: 24 A: 22 D: 21 P: 5 W: 5 C: 6
Anton swallowed silently. This one wouldn’t be so easy. The wizard had a clear weakness when it came to combat, but Rhenar almost matched Anton in combat stats. He had more levels than Anton, as well. He’d taken the long way around to get to Tier Three, following a path of Common and Fine Classes. It was, strictly, an inferior method, but it had gotten him to the same place that Anton was now.
Anton kept walking forward. Magic was always best at a distance, so he wanted to close the range. The wizard wasn’t a fool, though.
“That’s close enough!” he snarled, pointing a finger at Anton. “Any closer, and I’ll smite you!”
Anton took that step. “I can make it go easier for you,” he said. “If you surrender and inform the King of just who is after my wife, I can call for clemency.”
“Your wife?” Rhenar blurted out.
“I’m Baron Nos,” Anton said. He tried to make the words sound natural. “This is my estate that you’re trespassing on.”
He took another step.
“You’re—you’re not supposed to be here,” Rhenar said. “You’re supposed to be out of the country!”
“I just got back,” Anton said. “Why so surprised? Isn’t the hero always supposed to show up at the moment of greatest need?”
He took another step.
“It doesn’t matter,” the wizard sneered. “You’re just another witness we need to eliminate!” Anton could see the magic flare up around the wizard. That had to mean he was casting a spell.
Uncanny Evasion.
Anton triggered the dodge at the same moment the spell was released, which was fortunate as the lightning bolt flashed through the space he had been faster than he could have possibly reacted. The wizard screeched in rage. The commander drew his sword.
It didn’t matter. Wizards knew to start casting before the swordsman got in range, but Anton’s range was a lot longer than Veylan Corbraith thought it was.
Leaping Attack.
For once, Anton used the Trait without trickery. This was Leaping Attack, as it was meant to be used. A flat, fast trajectory, directly at his target. As his sword swung in, he felt some kind of protective spell. The air itself tried to push him back.
It wasn’t enough to stop him. Anton’s blade cut through the wizard’s arm, raised up to ward him off and cut deep into the man’s torso. The wizard fell to the earth with a cry of pain.
Anton landed, sure-footed, but he had to quickly twist to parry the attack that came from his left side. Anton had the higher strength, but the commander had a Trait that strengthened the attack. Without a Trait to counter it, Anton had to give ground, stumbling to the side.
“Nothing personal,” the commander said, following up his attack with strong blows from a variety of directions. “I just can’t allow my men to be executed.”
The rain had stopped, Anton noticed. He gripped his blade more firmly and readied himself to receive the commander's attacks.