The first blade to reach him was the long, slender thrust of the elf, and Osric parried it with his own, spinning with the momentum to bring his heel into the elf's gut, sending him flying. Then, the rest of them were on him, and Osric leaped backwards off the top of the broken tree. As far as he could tell, his one real reliable advantage was in raw power. No one would be learning any intricate or powerful mana techniques until they had a Motte, but Osric had only had his Motte for a few days, he didn't know any either. Other than that, he had the powers he'd been granted from the mirror.
Which would require trusting the mirror. Something he would do when and only when it was absolutely necessary.
Osric's magically enhanced endurance was an even bigger advantage than it at first appeared, because he had decided to use an age old technique for fighting when heavily outnumbered. He was going to run. No two people, regardless of the level of cultivation involved, ran at the same pace. If Osric made them chase him, their numbers would thin, and he could tackle them one on one. And he'd been certain of beating them all one on one before it all came to this.
But arrogant, traitorous, backstabbing pricks though they might be, they weren't stupid. They'd received the same training Osric had. Some of them, from wealthier families, had gotten more or better. They saw what he was doing and they tried to circle around him, cut him off and prevent him from stretching them out across the distance. That was where Osric's superiror cultivation came in. Until one of them sprouted a Motte, he was faster and stronger than they were. So when they split up to cut him off, he just ran faster until he caught up to the Squire farthest ahead of him and cut his head off.
“Jolish,” Osric said, holding the head up to the moonligh. “Kind of a shame. He cooked good camp stew. That's really all the impression I had of him, I barely spoke to the man. Which raises once again the question of why the hell you all decided to attack me. Does anyone feel like answering that now?”
“You bastard!”
“No I don't think it was me,” Osric said thoughtfully. “I've been through a lot lately, but I think I would remember if I'd planned my own assassination. And I would certainly remember what the point of the whole thing was.”
A pair of squires snarled and charged at him, but Osric turned to the side so their blades went past in front and behind him. He spun, his blade flashing, and another squire went down with a slash across his chest.
“Two of you,” Osric said, dancing away from a blade. “Out of seven. Have any of you noticed yet that I'm only using one arm? That's kind of the point, to make it clear just how superior I am to all of you. I will admit, before I had a Motte, I couldn't have done this with one arm. But I could have done it.
“You were always like this!” Squire Kemrin sneered. He was one of the few there not carrying a sword, preferring instead a long handled ax. “Always so sure you were better than us! You were always such an arrogant prick!”
Kemrin swung the ax and Osric blocked with his sword. The two of them froze for a moment, standing on a tree branch silhouetted by the moon.
“I don't think I was that arrogant,” he said. “I was the strongest of the squires without a Motte. That was a fact. But I don't remember rubbing it in.”
“You rubbed it in every day!” Kemrin snarled. “Just by showing up and making the rest of us look bad. Don't you get it, Osric? You had no businessbeing the strongest! You weren't even noble born, just the son of a couple of dead knights! The rest of us have the blood of lords and kings!”
Osric stared at him for a second. Then he blinked.
“That's it?” Osric said. “That's really it? My blood wasn't noble enough? That was your problem? Squire Fanrith's blood isn't any more noble than mine is.”
“But he understands his place!” Kemrin said. “Haven't you ever noticed how he never outruns Kylren at training? He knows to be weaker than the one who rules his lands. That way he'll have a place in a noble's household later. But you! You just hadto rub your talent in the faces of your betters.”
Osric felt like he was suddenly talking to a fish. The fish was describing things like sunlight, and work, and being tired, which were all topics Osric basically understood, but since the fish experienced them all from underwater it viewed them so differently Osric couldn't make himself understand it. He was horrified...and oddly curous.
“So that's why you were all willing to kill me,” Osric said. “That doesn't explain why you decided to actually do it. What was the motive to actually try and murder me?”
“Oh that's a much better story,” Kelrin grinned. “You see...”
“Sorry no,” Osric said. “Because I know about those two coming up behind me already and I'm not letting you stall anymore.”
He plucked the ax from Kelrin's astonished hands and threw it behind,embedding the blade in the head of the ambitious squire who'd been coming up behind him. Squire Pelwort. Beside him, Squire Tenric snarled and charged. Osric grabbed Kelrin and put him in the path of Tenric's blade, both enemy's eyes growing wide as the blade sunk into an ally. Osric cut Kelrin's throat and threw him aside, shoving his blade up into Tenric's gut.
“So I'm pretty sure that's five of you,” Osric said, as the bodies fell to the forest floor. “Which means there should be two of you left behind to answer questions. Did you run away? I'll be very disappointed if you ran away.”
Come to think of it, had they even followed him in the first place? He hadn't seen Telithel since he kicked the elven squire in the chest at the beginning of the fight, but that shouldn't have taken him out. And who else was missing, that guy who didn't leave much impression....Jorplis! Squire Jorplis! Half the time Osric didn't even remember his name. Where had they gone?
Two sudden bright flares of power from back the way he'd came told him the story.
They were both close to forming a Motte,Osric thought, gripping his sword. And they decided to let the others die fighting me to even the odds.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Osric sat down on a tree stump and waited for them to arrive. Telithel arrived wreathed in a pale aura of green light, Jorplis in a faunt aura of gray energy. Jorplis was a gray person, all things considered. Average built, nondescript brown hair, gray personality.
“Now let's try this again,” Telithel snarled. “When things are a little more even.”
“I think I hate you most of all,” Jorplis said flatly.
“Jorplis it took me half a minute to even remember your name,” Osric sighed.
“What?” Jorplis sputtered. “We've known each other for years! How could you possibly not remember my name!?”
“Well you don't leave much of an impression,” Telithel admitted.
“You too!?”
“I'm not saying you're ugly or a bad warrior,” Telithel said defensively. “I'm just saying people just sort of don't notice you. You're just kind of, I dunno. There.”
“This is ridiculous!” Jorplis said. “Wait until I learn some serious mana techniques, then I bet you'll all notice me....”
“What prompted you two to try and murder me?” Osric asked. “I'm sorry, this is all really entertaining but I'd like to get some sleep tonight.”
“You don't know your place...”
“I've already been through all that with one of these corpses,” Osric waved a hand dismissively. “That might be why you were all willingto kill me. But there's no way that was enough for you all to risk attacking me like that. And for that matter, there were simpler ways to kill me. All of you together must have onebrain between you, what made you try to kill me all of a sudden with such a dumb plan?”
The two squires looked at each other.
“It was Baldrin,” Jorlpis shrugged.
“He knew we all hated you,” Telithel said. “So when he suggested it, nobody objected.”
“Do you know I feel like I'm supposed to be hurt or something,” Osric shook his head. “I've heard of training cadres closer than family. But I guess I just never fit in with you all. Was it the nobility thing? Maybe I just didn't click with any of you? I dunno. It's interesting to think about though, isn't it? The reasons people either form a bond or they don't.”
“Well now we're going to un-form the bonds between your limbs and your scalp!” Jorplis said. Telithel and Osric looked at him,
“Trying too hard,” Telithel shook his head.
“I mean my limbs aren't even directly connected to my scalp,” Osric agreed. “It doesn't make sense.”
“I mean you're right we're going to kill him, but seriously. Punching up your dialogue now isn't going to make you more noticeable.”
“I'm noticeable dammit!” Jorplis huffed.
“I mean if anything saying you going to bond my limbs tomy scalp would be more threatening,” Osric suggested.
“Enough commentary!” Telithel snapped. “Two of us with Mottes to one. Let's just kill him and get it over with.”
“Right.”
Osric just smiled, and slid the eyepatch up to reveal his mirrored eye.
The mirror still hadn't spoken to him since they'd bonded, but he'd thought about what it had said a great deal. It had promised to teach him the way of mirrors. So far, what had that meant to him? The first step on the way of mirrors, it seemed, was to copy things. He had copied swords and a simple technique to copy writing had come as second nature to him.
The first power he must master to master the mirror was the power of copying.
The two squires fell on him with flashing blades, and he met them with his own. This time he didn't have a solid advantage in strength and speed. His Motte was more stable than theirs, more settled in his body, but only by a day or so. He also suspected his Motte was stronger than theirs, more powerful in type, but at this basic level of mastery that barely mattered.
So he had no choice but to fall back on the powers of his mirrored eye.
Through the eye he found it incredibly easy to follow their moves. He didn't doubt it was because his sword skills were actually greater than theirs, and that against someone much more advanced than he was he wouldn't be able to use this ability. But the way things were, it let him keep up with the other two squires as their blades licked out hungrily for his life.
Was this an aspect of Copying? That didn't feel right. Possible he had touched on some other aspect of the path of the mirror. Something to examine later. How could he turn this into Copying, the one aspect he'd had some experience with?
The answer was almost painfully obvious. Mirroring was an old, old trick in almost any competition, copying your enemy's moves exactly. In fighting, in games of strategy, it was an age old technique to irritate your opponent and throw them off balance. If Osric was right, he should be really, really good at it now.
It was a little difficult with two opponents though, so Osric began darting wildly around between the trees of the forest to break up their formation. All things considered it was pretty easy, they weren't the best at working as a team. And every time he clashed with one of them, he stayed on the defensive and mirrored all their moves. With each clash, it got easier.
With each clash, they seemed...simpler.
Sparks flashed wherever blade met blade, and it seemed like with each piercing point of light Osric needed the mirror's power less and less to copy their movements. After a while, it was almost boring. He knew what they were going to do before they did it. He found himself over-anticipating, almost leaving openings because he moved to black a blow before his opponent had actually begun to make it.
I've learned all their moves, he realized.
He decided to press that advantage in the next clash. When he ran into Jorplis next, he played the entire fight out in his mind. Then he ignored it, sidestepped the squire's first thrust, and brought his own blade up into Jorplis's throat. Osric watched his enemy's eyes widen in a mixture of astonishment, and, strangely, betrayal. Which considering everything Osric thought was pretty rich. He let the corpse fall to the ground and turned to face Telithel.
The elven squire was coning in much more cautious. He stood a few paces away from Osric, eyeing him warily.
“That eye,” Telithel said. “What is it? Did you come across some artifact? Did our attack awaken some dormant bloodline power within you?”
Osric was about to make some joke, but it occurred to him it was possible that his bloodline was somehow the reason he was able to call upon the powers of the mirror.
“You know I don't actually know?” Osric said. “I thought it was an artifact, but I only know of people in my family who have used it, so it could be either. And now that I've answered a question honestly, why don't you do the same? What made you all suddenly decide to try and kill me?”
Telithel looked him up and down.
“Baldrin,” Telithel said. “It was Baldrin's suggestions. The other squires who had Mottes before your attack might know why too, I don't know. But Baldrin suggested it, and he's got a lot of power and influence among the squires. I don't know why he did it the way he did it, and I don't know what he has against you in particular.”
Telithel held his sword straight up in front of him.
“Upon my cultivation, I, Telithel Ulbriem val Qlestinos, do hereby swear to tell no one of the new power you have obtained, beyond saying that you were more powerful than myself and the other squires when we came to kill you.”
Osric's eyes widened in surprise.
“You're expecting me to spare you?” Osric asked.
“I'm giving you the option,” Telithel said. “After tonight's performance I have no confidence in my ability to defeat you in a one on one fight. And someone who has found such power as you have has a chance to beat out Baldrin and the other three above us, as well. I signed on because I thought it was the best move for me at the time. Now, I believe that's staying out of your way. I'm pretty sure I could escape from you, but so much the better if you aren't chasing me.”
Osric lowered his own blade, eyeing Telithel carefully.
“I wont have forgiven you,” Osric said. “We'll still be enemies.”
“That's to be expected,” Telithel shrugged. “I tried to murder you. But you've got bigger problems than me, and you're turning into too big a problem for me to deal with.”
Osric took a moment to consider.
“Alright,” he said. “Go.”
Telithel disappeared into the shadows, and Osric watched him go. Baldrin. He'd expected something like that. Not much of a lead, but a place to start.
He had a target now.