The night wind was cool yet strangely harsh as it bit against any exposed skin. Scriled pulled his cloak in tighter, trying to keep himself as warm as he could. He shivered occasionally, which made his teeth chatter. Naiva glared at him every time he did that, but he could only chuckle.

“You’re absolutely sure he’s coming this way?” Naiva asked, her eyes scanning the road before them.

“Absolutely. I can see the trail getting closer even now” Scriled replied, rubbing his hands together. No matter how many years he was in the Knights Order, Scriled could never bear too much cold. Of course, he could do it if the situation demanded it, but he was sure that he’d be the first one to die if a snowstorm blew through there. Right after he killed Humdee of course.

The man in question sat quite a distance away from him, playing with his new toy. Occasional sounds of gasping could be heard, but the group just tried to ignore it.

After all, Humdee was always like this. A wild card

Scriled still remembered how he met Humdee as clear as day.

The scrawny blonde man walked into the Seeker’s room, and Scriled glared at him with disapproving eyes. The man- Humdee was his name- was half naked, with his tunic tied on his dead. ‘Drunk’, concluded Scriled. Scriled was still a new recruit compared to the others, but his ‘talents’ made him a valuable force in the Knights Order. The king even went as far to hide him from the Empire’s occasional checkup of the army. Scriled sighed, looking at the sorry excuse of a man who was currently scratching his crotch as he kept looking at Sayeed expectantly. After a while, Sayeed opened his mouth to speak, but the man cut in as if he were waiting for that moment “So, where’s my desk?”

Scriled laughed as he remembered it. Humdee was certainly an oddball. But he was sort of like Scriled. His talents made him a covetable gem in some situations, while in others he was someone that everyone just wanted to bury a knife in.

He turned his sight towards the group sitting behind him. A contingent of 15 knights, fully armoured and equipped. The king really wanted this noble brat murdered. Apparently, he was a traitor.

The king has pardoned tons of traitors before this one. What was the thing he did?

They were now near Bridle, a city famous for its wool. Scriled would have taken a week to track down Klaus, and maybe another day to deduce his route and get ahead of him. But thanks to the approaching end of the Redmoon, his magic was getting stronger, and he could find him in half a day. In the hour of the Moon goddess, it’d get much stronger.

“But man, his horses sure are fast aren’t they?” Scriled asked, wanting to stir up some conversation. The other knights sat in groups, just chatting to pass the time until he arrived.

“Tell me about it. I exhausted three of my gems to teleport us here.” Naiva murmured, picking at her cloak as she did so.

“This would have been so much more easier if he’d just teleported.” Scriled said. “Yeah, the anti teleport barrier would have caught him like a mouse... Maybe that’s why he didn’t do so? You know, that actually does make sense” Naiva grinned sarcastically as she said it.

Scriled chuckled and then diverted his eyes towards the night sky. The moon was at the apex of the sky, showering the world with its bloody rays. But like it was weakening, the red light was slowly fading. Like a dream.

“So... What happened?” Naiva asked him. Scriled looked at her, puzzled. What was there to happen? “Oh god... You know, you’re acting so uptight since coming here. What happened Scri?”

Scriled sighed before replying. “This... Ahem... Today was supposed to be the day when I could go and visit them again” Naiva looked shocked, and then placed her hand on his shoulder. Scriled smiled wryly at her.

“I’m sorry Scri... If I had known...” she trailed off, her voice sounding unsure. That was just how the king was. And Sayeed had turned into his lapdog. “It’s fine Naiva. After all, I can just meet them after I return. Surely Sayeed won’t deny it this time around. “ he said, and she nodded understandingly.

“Well, that’s that” Scri said, getting up from the rock he was sitting on. Naiva looked up at him, curious.

Scriled turned his gaze towards the bushes and yelled “Oi Humdee! I know you sensed it too! Come over here!” Scriled could distinctly hear someone mumbling angrily. After a while, the blonde man emerged, his armour shabbily worn and his hair tousled.

Scriled turned towards the group of knights then. “Alright men... and women. Klaus is coming this way as you all know, and he’ll be here in.... about ten minutes. It is a bit earlier than we expected, so I suspect he's moving faster to throw off our advantage. So don't expect the Moon goddess's blessing. Nevertheless, get to work!” he said and walked off into the clearing. This close, he could sense the magic trace moving towards him at incredible speeds.

He heard the thumps as the knights moved, archers taking their positions and warriors readying their weapons.

Alright then. Let’s get this guy and go back home.

Scriled waited patiently. There was a reason he picked this place to prepare an ambush. Klaus would get here a short time before the hour of the Moon goddess would start, and the slope next to the road would serve as the perfect vantage point for the archers.

The path curved around the mountain, and most of it was covered by forests. The exit of the forest was where they planned the attack. Klaus had undoubtedly bought slaves, and they could be dangerous for all they knew. Scriled could hear the marksmen nocking their bows, and the familiar sound of the arrow’s string being pulled back.

The carriage emerged out of the woods with a terrifying gait, the horse’s hooves thudding against the ground heavily as it ran out of the forest. In the front there was a woman and a bulky man. Scriled could make out a shield next to the man.

Well then, it was nice meeting you, Klaus Venturus.

He signaled the archers, gesturing with his fingers as he did so.

It was quite pleasing to hear the hissing of the air as the arrows streaked through the night sky. Arrows painted black to suit their purpose.

The arrows whizzed through the air, heading quickly towards the horses and the coachman’s seat. But to Scriled’s dismay, the woman noticed the arrows too. She prodded the man, who took his shield and held it up.

The painful neigh of the horse echoed through the night as the horses went crashing down, arrows sticking out of their necks. They veered off course, sending the carriage tumbling down the road. Scriled watched as the two jumped off, rolling to avoid taking damage.

Let’s see how you do in round two.

Scriled gestured again, and watched expectantly as the arrows were fired again. But, he saw the man scramble to his feet, shield in hand. He planted the giant shield into the ground and stood there like an insurmountable wall. The woman was already on her feet, and she quickly hid behind the nearest trees. Scriled cursed, and then did the second gesture.

He charged along with the trained 12 knights of the Order. Accompanying him was Naiva and Humdee. The rest were assigned as archers, ready to fire at any moment. Scriled then remembered the carriage and looked towards it. What he saw was two men climbing out of it. In one’s hands— a Lingnis tribesman’s—was a small bundle. Scriled immediately got curious, and beckoned Naiva. She looked towards where he was looking and nodded. The two split off from the main group and headed towards them.

The other man was fully cloaked, and all Scriled could make out of his face looked like a mask.

Most probably it’s the target.

Scriled drew the shortswords from its sheaths, the sound of the metal sounding pleasant to his ears. Although Scriled did not enjoy killing, he did like fighting. Not to the extent of being a battle maniac, but he still liked it.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Copying him, everyone else did the same. Naiva pulled out her rapier and headed in quickly. The Lingnis man dropped the bundle and drew his greatsword.

It’ll be finished if that hit me. Good thing it’s two on one.

Just like he guessed, he saw the cloaked man scamper off into the woods. Nobles were only good for spending money after all. His shortsword gleamed as it reflected the light of the moon.

The warrior slouched, his greatsword grasped with his hands. He stared carefully at them, watching their every move. Scriled could instantly guess that he was experienced in fights. Hopefully not too experienced.

Scriled dashed in to the warrior’s range, and then he finally saw movement-barely. The warrior shifted slightly. To the untrained eye, it would look like he was fidgeting. But Scriled could see what he was doing. He immediately jumped back. The man moved again.

By the gods! He’s not leaving any openings! He’s obviously an experienced warrior. Maybe even more than me.

He looked towards Naiva and she nodded. Scriled then restarted his attack. He dashed in again, his daggers already moving for the man’s throat.

In the next second, his arm was caught. The speed was inhumane, but the man firmly grasped Scriled’s arm with his thick arm. He winced as he felt the crushing force of his arm. Not willing to give up, Scriled twisted around the man’s arm, and wielded his other dagger, rotating it as he sent it piercing down on the man’s arm.

But to his dismay, the man had other plans. He raised his arm, and with a blinding speed, slammed his arm against the hard ground, Scriled along with it.

Scriled could barely create a magic cushion to stop himself from dying. The impact jarred his head, but without stopping, he stabbed the man’s hand with his dagger. The blade made a squelching sound as it pierced through his thick dark skin, blood spraying like a fountain. Scriled twisted and wriggled the blade, making more blood spray. The man winced as he did so, and threw him away.

Scriled jumped to his feet, and surveyed the situation again.

At least he still feels pain. I was worried that he might be an unfeeling murderer or something.

Naiva was jumping around the man, using her superior speed to stab him here and there with her Needle. The man’s back was covered with trails of blood, but it wasn’t enough. Most of her attacks were being stopped by that thick skin.

What is he made of? It’s like he’s wearing leather as padding.

But even with her speed, Naiva had trouble. She had to find chinks in the steel armor he was wearing if she wanted to any damage. But if she were to attack from the front, the man would quite easily catch her—Scriled had seen his speed—or use that greatsword of his.

Scriled looked back, and was relieved to see that the knights were still overpowering the two. If they could finish them, then the knights could support their fight.

No. We should set an example to them.

Finishing his checkup, Scriled dashed off towards the man. His eyes briefly looked at him, and then went back towards Naiva. He still hadn’t used his sword. And it would be by no means easy if he did.

Scriled ran in an arc around the man, leading his eyes towards him. Naiva took advantage of this moment and drove her sword through the man’s neck. His face contorted and then he swung his fist at her. At this moment Scriled dove in, his daggers aiming for the thighs.

With a satisfying squelch accompanied by a spray of blood, the twin daggers pierced through his thigh, the jagged ends of the blade feasting on the flesh. With a painful yell, the man turned his attention towards him, his fist moving towards Scriled’s head.

In the very same instant, Naiva jumped at his face and straddled his neck. She raised her needle high above her, aiming for the man’s eyes. Alarmed, the man dropped his greatsword—It raising a dust cloud as it did so—and his hands both headed towards her.

Scriled twisted his blades away from each other, and drove them across his thigh, tearing a gash as he did so. He struggled to see through the blood spurting from it. Naiva took the moment he delayed to stab one of his eyes and jump away. Accompanying her, he drew out his blades and jumped away.

By the gods, how heavy is that thing?!

Scriled looked at the depression made by the greatsword. Naiva circled around the man and came near him.

“We should be able to finish this quickly” she said, her breathing a little ragged.

“Don’t get too optimistic. He hasn’t used his sword yet” Scriled warned her, cautious.

“And whose fault is that?” she playfully said and moved away again, sticking her tongue out as she did so.

The man stood there, his hand over his bleeding eye. His left leg was drenched in blood.

That should impede his movement. Not that he needs to. That guy’s like a freaking mountain.

He bent down and picked up the greatsword. Finally, thought Scriled. He twirled his dagger once, and then moved in.

Fast!

That was all he could think as he ducked, dodging the silver streak that was aimed for his head. Without pausing, the man raised it above his head and brought it down on Scriled’s head. He attempted to move to the side, but it was too late. The movement only exposed his neck to the strike of the man.

Scriled would have died if it hadn’t been for Naiva. She dove in at the nick of time, kicking the arms of the man to divert its course. It barely missed.

Blood sprayed as Scriled looked towards his hand. For a second, he couldn’t comprehend what happened. Then, the pain hit him. He screamed and held the bleeding stump that his arm was reduced too.

He heard Naiva curse as she winced in pain. Realising that she needed his help, he stood up, picking up the blade in his other hand.

He felt light headed as the blood gushed out of him. He had to help her. She was his friend.

He looked up, to see her tied up. Tied by some black viscous stuff. Scriled wearily looked back to the source of the black vines. It was Klaus.

Dang it... He’s a mage...

He turned his vision back towards Naiva, as he staggered to his feet. He was losing blood, and it was a feat that he could stand despite that.

His vision was getting blurry, but he could see that the man was raising his greatsword. Raising it high as he prepared to kill her too. Scriled knew what he had to do. He bit the inside of his cheeks, so hard that it bled. The momentary tinge of sharp pain cleared his vision, and he could think clearly. He bent his legs then, Scriled jumped.

He jumped and drove the dagger through the man’s jaw, up through the roof of his mouth. It lodged in there, but Scriled did not stop. He moved the dagger down, cutting the man’s throat.

With a gurgling sound, the man collapsed. Scriled couldn’t maintain his consciousness anymore. The last thing he saw was the man coughing blood, his mouth overflowing with it, twitching as he did so.

Sorry...