It took over an hour for one of the surviving C-Types to call for a retreat, but once it did the fight just abruptly ended. All the ambulatory demonlings just faded into the underbrush and vanished to the east. The only sounds left were the groans of the wounded and shouts of the humans reacting to the sudden cessation of violence.

For his part Gloe focused, casting about with all his senses. It wasn’t out of the question that this could be a ruse. The demonlings could be regrouping, or planning to attack again once the humans let their guard down. It didn’t seem to be the case though. No sign of them nearby.

Time for a change of pace. All that was in his area were demonling corpses, but he wasn’t that far from where the northern wagons had been overrun. It wasn’t likely there were any survivors, but it wouldn’t hurt to go check.

No signs of life. None of the agony associated with deep wounds here either. Of course down to the south emotions and pain were off the scale, but nearby…huh. One source, drawing closer. Extreme nervousness but also a great deal of…excitement? He hadn’t tasted that in a while.

What was there to be excited about here and now? He casually shot a glance in the direction the emotions were coming from. Nothing. Just shrubs, but the source was getting closer. What did that mean? He wasn’t sure he liked this.

After a moment’s consideration he ate as much as he could of the nervousness while leaving the excitement untouched. Then he went back to checking for survivors while keeping an unobtrusive eye on the relevant avenue of approach. Hopefully his natural acting skills had improved along with everything else.

The approach was impeccable, but at the last second someone got a little overeager. Not nervous enough to be cautious and over-excited. Perhaps. It was a mystery.

Gloe caught a glimpse as a sudden assailant stepped out of a nearby bush and swung. He leapt back, almost too late despite his alertness and enhanced abilities. How had the guy gotten so close undetected? The blade grazed Gloe’s face and chest, effortlessly slicing through skin and shroud alike. If he hadn’t dodged he might have been bisected, but as it was he only had minor injuries.

The assailant was gone though. Vanished in the time it had taken Gloe to blink. He could still feel the emotions, stronger than ever, but there was no sign of the assassin.

The vector changed and Gloe dodged away, narrowly avoiding another deadly slice. The nearby underbrush parted with a gentle swishing sound. A neatly split spiderweb caught his eye. That sword was sharp, almost certainly magically so. But he still had yet to get a good glimpse of the attacker or the weapon. Both seemed to just appear for the split second of an attack, then vanish.

How to kill an invisible man? “No shovels in sight” Gloe sighed to himself. Another pass. Gloe leapt away. He was tempted to try to counter-attack when the assassin struck, but it didn’t sound all that enticing. He had a vague idea what direction the assassin’s emotions were coming from, and whether they were getting closer or farther away. That really wasn’t enough to launch an attack, and given how dangerous that sword was failure could be fatal.

On the other hand as long as he kept dodging he wasn’t in any real danger. The assassin didn’t seem to have any ranged capabilities, and wasn’t as fast or agile as Gloe. He could run away at any time. Of course then he’d have an almost undetectable killer on his trail indefinitely. That didn’t sound very appealing.

The assassin probably didn’t have infinite stamina or patience. Gloe could try to simply outlast him. Run around until he got tired, then track him through his emotions. Follow him until he turned visible or whatever.

Problem was, based on the emotional flavor, Gloe was fairly certain this was a person, not a demonling. Could be a demon or a reaver. Didn’t taste like the emotions from the few of those he’d met, although that had been years ago.

Did bear a striking resemblance to a guard though. And if it was a guard, then he probably couldn’t afford to play around. The other human survivors would be checking the rest of the battlefield soon. There were a fair number of them he would have been fine with killing, but he wasn’t certain he wanted to wipe the whole group out. Once he crossed that line there was no going back, and he still didn’t have a counter-measure for whatever technique had been used to capture him in the first place.

He wanted this asshole dead though. Was there any way he could accomplish that quickly? He ran through a variety of clever schemes, but given his opponent’s stealth and weaponry they all carried too much risk.

That sword was advantage enough as it was. If the C-Types or the grappler had possessed something like that he would deader than dead. It was sort of strange the assassin didn’t press that advantage. Perhaps he was more comfortable attacking from concealment.

Or maybe he had no choice. Gloe had scored some respectable kills during this fight. Three C-Types, the grappler and a lot of vets. Plus a few base types who just got in the way. That was a lot of life energy. That blade seemed to be able to cut through Gloe’s shroud, but maybe the assassin couldn’t go head to head even with that advantage. If he was some sort of stealth specialist then with such a powerful magical weapon he had a chance to take out even opponents far more powerful then him.

But if he was lower level, then that opened up new possibilities. Gloe considered while still dodging. The only con he could see was revealing his capabilities a bit, but it was possible the assassin had been stalking him the entire battle, and he definitely hadn’t held back for most of it. Might as well try a brute force approach.

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The next time he dodged he leapt backwards, towards the fallen northern human position. He waited until the assassin began creeping in his direction. Then, when the angles felt right, he fell back to an empty wagon.

And threw it. He crawled under it, used imbue and picked the whole thing up. Then he sent it skimming along the ground in the assassin’s direction.

There was a sudden spike of terror, followed by a good deal of pain. Gloe carefully went to investigate. He found the assassin smashed up against a tree. He’d managed to avoid being pinned under the wagon, but the impact had done a lot of damage. Only shroud had kept him alive.

He didn’t have a lot of it though. Even less now that he was unconscious and dying. Gloe recognized him as Strem, the guards’ chief scout. He must have kept his aberration ability a secret. Even now he was hard to make out against the backdrop.

Strem was a quiet, cautious man. He didn’t seek glory and he didn’t take chances. That’s what the guards said, when they spoke of him at all. Which wasn’t often. What could persuade such a man to try and kill Gloe?

A glint of metal caught his eye, and he found the sword where it had fallen from Strem’s hand. This was no scout’s weapon. It was a large two-handed sword, broad-bladed but surprisingly light. There was pearl inlaid in the pommel and silver filigree traced the blade. A single rune was painstakingly graven into the weapon, over and over again. The whole thing was polished to a shine. It was long, cumbersome, expensive and eye-catching.

Someone had given this to Strem. The question was, had it been accompanied by suggestions, or orders? He took an experimental swing at a nearby leaf and watched it fall neatly in half.

There was a sigh as Strem died. Getting hit by a wagon like that wouldn’t have come close to killing Gloe anymore, even before you factored in regeneration. His shroud would have absorbed a lot of that damage, assuming he had let himself get hit by it at all. Strem must have been much lower level than him. Even before the battle. That didn’t sound like a confrontation a cautious man would have sought.

Gloe was going to have to take steps. He spent a few minutes cleaning up the site of the confrontation. Then he lickety-splitted into the treetops and lit out.

...

The forge roared, but the clanging at the anvil nearly drowned it out. The sun was setting and the smithy was supposed to be closed for the night. And in point of fact the prisoners who worked there were nowhere to be seen. A guard hesitated at the door, then slowly entered.

Inside the light and heat were intense. The fire was stoked to the point where the chimney was beginning to creak in protest. A lone figure stood nearby, beating ceaselessly on a long piece of metal that glowed so brightly it almost hurt the eye. Each blow seemed to shake the anvil, and a scattering of shattered forge hammers gave testimony that this had been going on for some time.

The guard drew closer and stopped as the figure turned. Hesitating for a moment, the guard gave a small bow. “Good evening. I’m glad to see you are well. This is a bit awkward, but after the fight some of us were talking. We just got back you see, and we decided someone should come talk to you. So here I am.”

Gloe looked on expressionless for a moment, then grinned. “Here you are” he agreed.

“Right.” The guard coughed and gamely continued. “My name is Oresus. Some of us wanted to thank you for what you did today. Not entirely clear on all the details, but it was easy enough to see our casualties would have been much worse if you hadn’t been there. So thank you.”

“No thanks necessary. After all they were trying to kill me too. But I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“Ah. Okay.” Oresus was clearly uncomfortable and having trouble making eye contact. “Oh, an old executioner’s sword. I haven’t seen one since I left the school.”

The fire reflected in Gloe’s eyes. “I took it off an enemy in the woods. You know what it is?”

“Oh, yes. They sent me to a craftman’s school, so I saw them being made. And of course everyone in the city saw one at the executions.” Gloe cocked his head, silently urging the guard to elaborate.

“Well, as you know, all executions are carried out by nobility. The axe is oftentimes considered an unseemly weapon, so they make these executioner swords. In order to ensure that those with power can be killed properly the swords are enchanted. But no one wants to use a weapon of war for this, so apprentice runesmiths are allowed to practice on executioner swords when they’re preparing to become journeymen. See this rune? It’s the rune for cutting, or something along those lines.”

“Strange.” He looked troubled for a minute. “Only noble houses are allowed to purchase these. I wonder how the demonlings got ahold of one?”

“A mystery indeed.” Gloe seemed less troubled personally. “Well, since we have no way of knowing who it belongs to it will make fine axe-heads.” He went back to pounding the runes off and breaking the blade into even chunks.

“I’ll help for a bit.” Oresus began to refill the forge and work the bellows.

“Should a guard really be doing that?”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Oresus chuckled slightly. “I’m just a runt. My family are herdsmen. I only got sent to school because our lords thought my primary ability might make them some money. Besides, I got a few kills during the fight and I could use some exercise to help me work the Ki in.”

They really did call it ki. Gloe face-palmed internally. Well he wasn’t going to cave.

They worked in silence for a while, then Oresus spoke up again, haltingly. “This is sort of out of nowhere, but you’re very fast. How do you feel about kavar?”

That was out of nowhere. “Never ridden one. Don’t think I’d know how. I don’t know how fast they are either. Probably will never own one though, so I guess it doesn’t matter. Why do you ask?”

“Well…I told you I’m from a family of herdmen. I turned out to be an aberration, so…well this isn’t exactly what I wanted my life to be like. But my family’s still back home, you see?” He wave his hands helplessly. “Some of us were talking after the fight. We wanted to thank you, like I said.”

“But also, we were thinking that maybe, if the Commandant gave certain orders or a misunderstanding happened between you and the other guards…well maybe it would be important for someone to guard the stables. To keep the kavars and the carees safe. You see what I’m saying?”

Gloe nodded gravely. “That makes sense to me. Of course, I have no interest in the stables, so I can’t think of any reason I would ever have to go there. But someone else might take advantage of any chaos to try to grab a ride or something, right?”

“Agreed.” Oresus nodded vigorously. “It’s good to have someone else confirm the way we see things. Thank you.” The last two words sounded heartfelt. He turned back to the bellows.

Food for thought. Gloe went back to beating the rapidly deforming sword. After a while he began to smile softly to himself.