> Best ye think about it some lad,
>
> Tis Logan ‘The Gray’ Barrett, yer talkin’ to
>
> Saw him wit me own eyes hold the shield
>
> When Feral Benton fought the Bloody Tiger
>
> Afore the walls of Kas.
>
> -
>
> An unnamed Northman
>
> Circa 198 NC
>
>
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Sir Lucius Alden
Forty shields
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A black skull was painted on the banners. Set in a white background it wasn’t easy to discern from afar, but it was cleanly and rather artistically drawn, Lucius decided, now that he could see it proper. The mercenaries had managed to escape the failed attack on Ludr, crossed the smaller rivers losing a good number of men, all this new information for Lucius and then realizing Wolvesbane Castle had fallen, they’d rushed towards Eaglesnest and salvation.
According to what they had told them, the Crull force gathered there learning what happened patched them up, and send them towards Kas to block the eastern approach to their capital. They in turn retreated up the mountains to wait for the Northmen closer to their city.
The mercenaries had managed to surprise Mcloud’s men initially, but Feral Benton’s sudden appearance from the ridge had put them in a death vise, trapping them between their forces. They were doomed, but for Lucius’ last minute heroic charge. The Black Skulls had regrouped very fast again, showing great resilience and were now ready to force-march back where they had come from. Hoping to find the road open, or even catch the Northmen in a trap themselves, if that failed.
It always marveled Lucius how people had the ability to go from utter despair to overconfidence in the span of a single day.
All the above of course were very interesting details and insight on local politics and conflicts, but didn’t help the young Heir at all unfortunately, not at the moment. He glanced at the sky, avoided Roderick’s sour face and stilled his eyes on the rest of the men, he’d taken with him on this quest.
Those that were still alive that is.
“Warriors will create an enclosed space wit their shields,” Galio explained, taking his stare as a question. Lucius supposed that it was. “It don’t have to be a circle, but it’s what they call it.”
“Anything else?” Lucius focused his attention on Dirk Curd. While the man had made a remarkable recovery, placing him near Zofia during the fight had perhaps been a mistake, he thought.
He’d done plenty of those.
“Finish it quickly. He’ll have more friendly shields than ye,” The mixed blood Issir replied.
Lucius nodded. A prolonged fight wasn’t on his mind anyways. He was hurting allover, since they’d been fighting since morning.
“Have you ever fought in there?” He asked, still vague on what to expect.
“I have, but it’s been a long time since,” Dirk wasn’t keen on discussing it for some reason.
“We’ll have six shields between us,” Galio said. “Another four Lorians, decided to stay and help. So that’s a round ten.”
“Can they leave their commission?” Lucius probed, moved at their gesture.
“They rather fight wit Regia, milord,” The ex-sergeant replied, sounding almost offended.
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Twotrees Mcloud waited for them to approach a rather flat opening, almost fifty men near him, another fifty watching from further away. People were coming from Kas as well and gathering at the near soft slopes, now that the fight had stopped. Women and children mixed in. They were probably watching them from the walls. The fact they hadn’t come out to help the mercenaries against their fellow Northmen, very telling, Lucius thought with a grimace, his face hurting from the cold.
“Lord Alden,” Mcloud said, his accent heavy. “We are drawing quite the crowd, but the hour is late. Shall we begin?”
Lucius stared at Feral Benton, wild hair hidden under a studded hard-leather helm, leather armor over chainmail, almost as tall his brother, but wider at the shoulders. He’d a Warhammer in his right hand and talked to a shorter wiry girl with fiery red hair cut very short, her eyes a striking blue that pierced through him, when she caught his stare.
“Maybe I should fight him,” The fiery young woman spat, all bravado. “He’s too pretty and shiny to last with ye brother.”
The whole darn family is here it seems, Lucius thought, responding to her taunt with a nod.
“I won’t fight a woman, but I will fight your brother,” The latter he said to the expecting and slightly amused Mcloud, the large Northman easily towering over all of them.
“Right, with Faye’s permission, you can choose weapons, or bar them from this bout,” Twotrees announced to the cheers of the Northmen and the unease of most of his own men. Lucius glanced back, lips pressed tight. They all seem outraged, but for Dirk Curd that is.
He didn’t have time to worry about the mixed blood.
“No swords!” Benton announced stepping forward. Lucius frowned, still stunned by the turn of events.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“What manner of crap is this?” Roderick was heard on his back.
Twotrees glared at him, while two Northmen brought a couple of spears in the center that was left open and stabbed them into the muddy ground. At the same time men carrying shields had formed around Benton and Lucius. Most of them were Northmen, looking none too friendly.
“Lord Alden, has the chance to bar a type of weapon as well,” He explained, under the murmur of the crowd, now creating another bigger circle outside the one Lucius was standing in. “It is how it’s done,” He added, his eyes on the two spears.
Lucius unsheathed his sword, walked towards the side his men were standing, shields in front of them and gave it to a furious Roderick. “He’s lighter than ye,” The loyal hand warned, but Lucius had made his decision already. Galio standing two shields away, tossed him his Legion issued warhammer and Lucius snatched it out of the air.
Roderick opened his mouth to protest, but he put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
“Get the sword to my father and all our people back to Regia. Whatever it takes, Roderick,” He told him brusquely, though he softened it at the end where he’d mentioned his name. A rarity in all the years he’d known him, despite for all intents and purposes the old man being like a father to the young Heir. Lucius turned on his heel to approach his expecting opponent, walking fast not to let the emotion sap at his strength.
If I don’t make it, was his meaning.
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Faye had taken a shield and her place in the circle, leaving them alone. Twotrees, himself not part of the circle, had jumped on his horse to have a better view of what was going on.
“No weapon change milord?” He asked seeing his steel war hammer, thick brows raised.
“No change,” Lucius replied, closing his fingers on the handle. “Don’t want to drag this any further,” Benton shook his head right and left in disbelief.
Twotrees glanced towards the darkening skies.
“Ye have less than an hour. The first man dead, before the sun sets, loses. Forty shields are bearing witness people!” He thundered, booming voice silencing the murmurs of the crowd. “Ye may begin.”
Benton charged him before the last word left his mouth.
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Lucius twitched away, the war hammer coming at him with a scream, spike missing his shoulder by an inch. He jumped away, boots slipping in the mud, saw Benton running at him with a roar, the heavy weapon swinging again for his head and rolled away almost banging his helm on a shield.
He turned, tried to swing himself, but missed and Benton downed his war hammer clipping the front of his plate as he jumped back. The shield stopped him mid move and then pushed him forward, a faceless Northman cursing his dead mother behind his back. Lucius stumbled forward, saw Benton swinging upwards and blocked with his weapon, almost losing the grip on impact.
Lucius was pushed again on to the shield, the boss clanging on his back and a fist catching the side of his face, sending his head spinning. He kicked blindly, caught part of a shin and then jumped to the side, Benton groaning and cursing in the same sentence.
He rolled again the moment he landed, sludge mixed with blood in his mouth, his face cover slits clogged in mud. Lucius opened it and breathing heavy, tried to find his bearings, all the advice he’d gotten earlier seeming absurd now. Benton moving light on his foot, or just less tired, since he’d barely fought all day, came at him again, full of confidence.
The crowd roared with him, the vast majority on his side.
Lucius spat between his legs, tongue touching his split lip and parried away his opponent’s first wild swing. Benton stepped back to gather momentum, but Lucius advanced and forced him to attack with an ineffective half swing, which he deflected easily and reached him before he’d time to swing again.
Benton tried to head butt him as he advanced, but Lucius lowered his steel helm, heard the man’s teeth breaking on his conned top, his muffled cries shocking the crowd. The Northman stumbled back blood on his mouth, and swung high with his war hammer, aiming for his head. Lucius ducked under it the last moment, the iron head catching him between the shoulder blades, his backplate twisting and the force so great, it send him to his knees.
“Fuckin’ southern fiend,” Feral Benton cursed, spitting blood and a huge gap where his front teeth were. “This is wher’ ye die.”
He came at him again, not giving him time to stand on his feet, giving it his all in the charge. Lucius, his knees shaking, parried a death blow to his face and send it away, Benton’s shoulder catching his chest and lifting him clean off his feet. He flew backwards a shield banging him harder than it was needed, when he landed.
He thought his hurt back broke for a moment and panicked.
Benton reached him, just as the feeling returned, the Northman now breathing heavy and skin flushed the shade of blood, where there was none and swung low, trying to break his knee cap. Lucius tried to move his leg out of the way, the spike slashing him just below catching his left greave. It went through plate, clipping the bone and cracking it, the pain almost blinding him.
Lucius growled maddened and dodged to the side to avoid the powerful killing blow, his knee barely holding and moving on it, making it worse. Benton missed him for a breath, his war hammer striking the shield behind his back with such force, it split in half and pulverized the arm of the astounded Northman holding it, covering them both in wood splinters and blood.
People screamed all at once, the uproar seeming like an earthquake that made his teeth rattle, as Lucius staggered a step away, turned on his good leg and swung at the spent Benton, putting most of his weight behind it. He got him at the top of his right shoulder, where his armour was strengthened with iron over the leather. Little good did it do him. The war hammer landed full force, the head wrapping the metal, melting the leather and fractured the scapula in at least a hundred pieces.
The Northman lost his weapon, his right hand turning useless and crashed on a fresh shield that had replaced the one he’d broken earlier with a heart wrenching cry. Lucius, himself barely standing on his feet, his left knee bleeding and his bone moving worryingly as he walked, approached the shaking Benton, as fast as he could.
Which wasn’t fast at all.
The noise all around the young Heir had reached a crescendo. The crowd cursing his lineage enraged, his own men situated on the other side of the circle, than the one he was now, yelling drowned out encouragements and a couple of mean looking rocks landing near him.
Benton saw him approaching and snapped out of his agony, the adrenaline masking the pain somewhat. He stooped and grabbed his war hammer with the left hand, the right dangling useless and rubbery. The wounded Northman still dangerous, made to swing at him as he hobbled the last meter to reach him, but Lucius was expecting it and parried it away.
His war hammer moved right to left for the block and returned in a backhand, starting low and rising.
“NOOO!” A distraught Faye screamed somewhere to his right, her voice cutting through the uproar, just as the steel spike connected with Benton’s square jaw and kept going pulverizing everything in its path, turning his face into a horror show.
Lucius painted in gore, let go of the handle, the war hammer staying sunk in Benton’s now unrecognizable face and pulled away from him. The Northman had died upright, his muscles locking and he stayed like that for a slow moment as Lucius, back hurting, knee buckling and too shocked to think straight stumbled into the center of the crumbling circle. The crowd had erupted mostly in anger, but he couldn’t understand what was going on around him. The shields dropped somewhere to his right and Faye dashed out of the chaos, bastard sword in hand.
She run furious towards him, tears on her face and murder in her eyes. Lucius his ears ringing and too tired to even lift a hand, not that he could fight without a weapon; watched as she approached light on her feet, but as deadly as Tyeus Valkyries. Everything slowing down, as if he was dying. Faye reached him in two seconds, or twenty, raised that nasty blade of hers to cut him down, but was knocked out of her feet by a large horse that charged between them at the last moment. The woman crashed four meters away landing on her head and stayed down, out for the count.
Damn, that must’ve hurt, Lucius thought. The last thing he saw before fainting, was a fearsome looking Twotrees Mcloud standing on top of that horse, tall as a mountain that huge greatsword of his, looking small in his hand.
It was all blackness after that.