To say Baron Matthew Flirlai the Second was angry would have been a categorical mistake. Had he lost a considerable portion of his wealth overnight, he might have been angry. Had he lost a Knight or a Knight Captain in battle, he might have been angry. But no, things were far worse than that.
His Knight Captain and head of the electric generation facility had died, as had the Knight that had been in charge of the radio tower’s maintenance. Adding in the total loss of Squadron two, and the partial one from squadrons three and four, his combat capacity had been effectively crippled. It would cost him dearly to regain it.
And it was because no one had done what they should have.
“My Lord, Celine… has been cut off. Likely dead.”
The noble’s glare turned towards the mousy maiden wearing thick armor that stood right next to him. Mimi the Tigermouse, the only psychic in his service, the tanned short woman kept a neutral look of frustration. Matthe idly wondered whether she was part of the problem or not.
“Did she confirm the kill?”
The mousy Knight knelt, bowing her head low. “No, my Lord.”
“We should consider the human’s alive.” The words pulled Matthew’s attention towards Nalda. The Orc Knight being the only one that dared to hold her head high around him. “How long until everyone’s healed?”
The question moved towards the nurse, the only dedicated healer they had brought. A sore mistake Baron Matthew was willing to admit was his own. He should’ve brought at least three more, but with the village about to being attacked by a second feral wave… The man grit his teeth as he adjusted himself on the saddle of his centaur.
“These burns are severe, ma’am, I don’t-.” The nurse spoke in a hushed whisper, shaking her pink hair.
“Move faster, girl.” Matthew commanded, watching the nurse wince and pour more energy in healing the severely burned Elf.
Burns.
When fighting a Sabertooth.
The snarl was barely held back, Darcy had confirmed it was Phoenix feathers, and the human they were chasing had also been using a scent killer. The Hunters had betrayed them, it made Matthew’s lips curl in disgust. The filthy cowson that dared call himself a Major would feel the full weight of the noble’s anger once this whole mess was dealt with.
He’d only need to call on the Earl and press charges of treason against the Hunter representative. After that it would only be a matter of time before the brute’s own maidens would be requisitioned for the good of the Kingdom and his head made to roll.
“My Lord! White Claw approaches!”
The proclamation from the Hound startled everyone into tense attention, even the equine maiden the Baron was currently riding stirred, turning in the direction of the wind and lifting her lance and shield. “Knight Darcy is right, there is a strong stench of blood getting closer.”
“Prepare for combat!” Nalda barked the command, and the maidens quickly moved.
Two Doggirls with tower-shields moved to protect the two remaining Elves. The Hound and Orc armed and ready. Things were not ideal, they’d been destroyed by the monster that was White Claw. But that would make victory all the sweeter, once she was in his grasp, he’d be able to wash away the shame.
Success was within his grasp.
“BARON!”
The male voice came from the darkness within the forest, and it instantly raised Matthew’s hackles as he recognized it. He glanced at Darcy and Mimi, the only two maidens that could see through the darkness, and neither reacted past a slight shake of their head. So the human wasn’t showing himself.
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“Most of your forces are dead, the rest are injured.” The man continued, far off into the distance. A coward. “Give up.”
“You are not the one with the most cards to play, thief! White Claw must be exhausted by now, badly hurt too.” Matthew’s hand tightened on the holster at his hip, the weight of the gun heavy, a reminder of the power at his disposal. “If you surrender, I will be lenient, leave the judgment of your misdeeds to the Earl.” A long silence followed, and the Baron wondered whether the offworlder would answer at all. So, instead, he pushed on. “There is no need to spill human blood tonight, hasn’t enough of it been lost to the ferals?”
Again, silence, a total lack of an answer that was interrupted by a light within the darkness. It was distant, barely visible to the Baron’s eyes, a flame that coated a tower-shield that stood still. The Baron’s mind whirled as he frowned, was that a challenge? A last stand? Who hid behind the shield, the human or White Claw?
“GET DOWN!”
The cry came from Darcy, the Hound had leapt out of her spot and straight towards the Baron. The man hadn’t had the time to react, she’d moved so quickly that by the time he’d processed the words, he’d been knocked over and to the ground. Anger might have flared up within him if not for the fire that exploded out of Darcy’s back instants afterwards. It came with the sound of shattering pottery.
“White Claw removed her scent! She’s attacking from South West!” Mimi’s voice squeaked out in a desperate shriek.
She might as well have said nothing at all. The fire had exploded in several places at once, the one targeting the Baron had only been one of four, the splash of damage coated Darcy’s shoulder and a considerable percentage of the Centaur’s equine back, the equine maiden panicking and running off as fast as she could. Shrieks and panic broke out all around them as everything moved fast.
The noble stumbled to his feet as Nalda pulled him to his feet, equipping her short sword and blocking his view of the battlefield as she stood her ground, the singular protection from what was surely White Claw now that his steed had been scared off so easily. The roar that exploded from somewhere ahead of them made the Baron feel his armor was far too heavy to be able to let him run if the need for it arose.
Instead of running though, he called out his subordinate. “Mimi!”
The Tigermouse did not respond, kneeling as her hands were aimed forward, her body glowing bright lavender as she wielded the mind energy. It was only once he’d been fully on his feet that the Baron got a chance to witness what had happened within the mere span of a handful of seconds.
One Elf lay on the ground, minus the head, the other was rolling, still aflame. Both Doggirls had been struck in some fashion, laying in pools of blood; and the Centaur was nowhere to be seen. Nalda and Darcy were the only remaining effective fighters, the first wielding a short sword and a round shield, the latter a spear and tower shield. And they were currently struggling against the feline that was ducking between their attacks, trying to push towards the Baron but getting cut off every time.
“HIT HER WITH EVERYTHING!” The Baron roared at Mimi, pulling out the elemental gun from its holster, the weight of the weapon making him feel his arm strain.
Matthew checked his surroundings one last time to make sure there were no other potential threats. The nurse was tending to the Elf with a burnt face, her back turned towards the noble. So long as the healer was alive, the Baron felt reassured of what was about to happen next.
The psychic mouse squeaked, stopping her attack and pooling energy for a larger one. A twinge of nervousness shot through Matthew as he saw White Claw speed up, the restraints that had been holding her back lifted. All too quickly she struck out against Nalda’s shield with such force the Orc was sent flying. Immediately she leapt towards Darcy and the Hound was cornered, barely able to defend herself against the Sabertooth, quickly losing ground.
For a moment all the noble could feel towards the feline maiden was awe, the same awe he’d felt the first time he’d seen her, wild, unstoppable, powerful. Even with the burns and bleeding wounds, and the exhaustion, even then she was putting his best fighters to shame. Surely a maiden such as this would qualify for a Royal Knight once properly trained. All his troubles would become a thing of the past.
Which was a shame that he had to gamble all of it away, but there was no other alternative anymore. Raising the gun, using both hands to carefully wield its weight, he aligned the barrel.
There was a whizzing sound, something flying past his head but close enough it had nearly missed. He almost startled and pulled the trigger on instinct, but held back at the last second, glancing at his side and meeting the hateful gaze of that loathsome thief as the offworlder loaded another flechette onto the crossbow. The man was too far away to stop him.
Matthew laughed.
“Watch as I end everything you fought for.”
He turned forward once more, his boot kicking the Tigermouse, signaling her it was time. The maiden’s glow became all the brighter and all too suddenly vanished right as she collapsed. Matthew felt the dull thud of a flechette hitting his armor, but he knew it would be useless against the enchantments. His focus was on White Claw, and how she suddenly froze, eyes wide in shock as a dull magenta glow wrapped her.
It had slowed her down.
Enough for Darcy to jump out of the way.
Enough for the Baron to have a clear shot.
He pulled the trigger.
And White Claw fell.