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Glen
Reason for murder
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The well-dressed stranger’s boots were drenched in mud. At some point it had reached his knees. This was the first thing Glen noticed, standing a couple of meters behind the broad back of Sir Lennox. The second was an attractive Issir woman, black hair all made up in thin cornbraids, clad in tight-fitting leather armor and holding an armed crossbow. The armed woman appeared next to one of the road columns; just as a reply rolled off the Knight’s tongue.
“Another step ‘n I’ll gut you like a pig.”
As Discreet as a bout of gangrene in the summer.
“There’s no need for violence,” The newcomer said, opening his arms wide to show he held no weapon. At the end of his gesture another two figures popped up behind the trees next to the columned road and joined him into the open. A well-muscled Issir swordsman appearing small next to a huge man carrying a battleaxe, who Glen quickly identified as a Northman.
“Please. My name is Dante Blackwood,’ the first man continued, as more figures appeared behind the trees and walked towards them in a semicircle. An Issir fighter and a wiry female wrapped in a long black cape half-covered in mud, her narrow face and slanted eyes that of a Cofol amongst them. Another small bodied girl with weird colored hair carrying a bow, arrow slotted between index and mid finger, stayed a bit back from the group. ‘I’m the leader of the Gallant Dogs Company,” Dante said keeping his voice non-threatening, although the appearance of so many armed people thinned his argument considerably. “We just want information.”
Sir Lennox licked the inside of his teeth one time, eyes appraising the newcomers’ one after the other, then spat down with a grimace.
“Nothing ye say rings a bell,” He grunted. “So I can’t vouch regardin’ your notoriety. I’ll have to decline.”
Dante smiled, showing two rows of mostly fine teeth. “Well, we are not… let’s say, we’re modestly famed in these parts at least—”
“Which parts?” Emerson cut him.
“Mostly Castalor.”
“I see,” The knight snorted. “Still, don’t know ye. And it’s an odd name for a gang.”
“We’re mercenaries,” Dante corrected him politely. Apparently he could shrug off an insult, thought Glen. “And… the better names were already spoken for, unfortunately.”
“Not my problem. I suggest walkin’ back the way you came.”
Glen wished the knight was a bit less antagonistic. They were outnumbered heavily and the Cofol female scared the crap out of him. The large Northman too. Guy is freakin’ huge!
“We know you were to have a meeting, Sir Lennox. It was… interrupted,” Dante pushed on “Just tell us, if you had contact with the messenger since then and all this will be over.”
“Peacefully,” Sir Lennox added.
“Yes. There’s no need for violence.”
“Happens that folk will say this at first. Sometimes it even works,” The knight said slowly. Dante nodded agreeing. “Other times they don’t and start off killing my squire for example, makin’ it kinda mute to remember it afterwards.”
Dante scratched his nose, his eyes flickering towards Glen. “Your squire appears surprisingly healthy to me.”
“That’s a local guide,” Sir Lennox lied without batting an eyelid. “Met him a couple of days back.”
“What happened to the squire?” The Northman asked.
Sir Lennox kept his eyes on the leader of the pack.
“All right,” Dante said with a sigh. “First of all, I didn’t attack him. She did,” He pointed towards the small-bodied girl standing further back watching their conversation like a hawk. Glen thought something was off with her face but couldn’t figure it out, as he was getting more and more anxious about this sudden encounter. “And it was a fluke more. A lucky shot. I’m astounded to learn he didn’t make it.”
“Arrowhead was poisoned,” There was steel in Sir Lennox’s voice.
Dante glared at the female with the weird-looking face but she responded with a shrug. “Apologies,” He said through his teeth embarrassed.
“Enough, this is getting ridiculous,” The Cofol woman hissed stepping forward. “Where’s Reeves, you dimwitted buffoon?”
“Let me handle…” Dante tried to say, but she cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand. Glen felt his stomach tighten up.
“Well?” She asked staring at the hard-faced knight.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Ye really think, I’ll tell you? Nah. Don’t really like your manners.”
“Huh,” She pulled back a step surprised. “You haven’t seen him.”
“Because he’s dead,” Dante added. “Obviously.”
“We don’t know that,” she argued, but not with the same conviction.
“My Lady accept a win, when one is offered,” Dante tried again. “You did more than enough.”
Emerson gave Glen a side glance. It was quick, but the woman caught it. “You killed Reeves?” He asked calmly, turning his attention on her.
Don’t answer.
“Sent his ship down the bottom I did,” she admitted thoughtfully, her eyes staying on the progressively more nervous Glen. “But I never saw a body. Trust me, I looked hard.”
“Reckon you had a reason for it,” Emerson replied reasonably and unsheathed his longsword. Everyone drew a sharp intake and Glen felt his right arm shake involuntarily.
“Sir Lennox,” Dante said. “You’ve nothing to gain here.”
But the knight clearly wasn’t of the same opinion.
Then Dante turned and stared at what was plainly his employer. “The man knows nothing.”
“Where are you from boy?” She asked Glen, ignoring him.
“What…” Dante gasped, appearing startled.
“The lad knows nothing,” Emerson said defensively.
“Let him talk.”
The last thing Glen wanted was talk to this crazy woman.
“Co… Cliffson Cay,” Glen croaked, catching himself at the last moment. There was something in the color of her voice that sounded familiar. Not in a pleasant way.
“But you went past Colant’s Refuge to get here,” She said with the hint of a smile.
“Not this time,” Glen replied recovering somewhat, putting a smirk on his face to throw her off.
But it wasn’t good enough.
The woman sighed and let her long cape drop from her shoulders.
“What does this matter?” Dante asked looking nervously at his companions reaching for their weapons, as the light around them lessened even more.
“Is that your blade?” She asked over his words, her hands touching two shortswords with silver engraved handles, sheathed on her expensive leather belt.
Luthos cock caught in a vise.
“Now it is,” Emerson replied taking a step forward to close the distance with the crossbow wielding female and put some of her people in the line of fire.
“Hey. Nope. Don’t do it,” Dante snapped nervously, his own hand touching the handle of his longsword. “For fuck’s sake Zestari, who cares about the kid?” He griped.
“Reeves carried that sword,” She said troubled, as if the whole situation had gone further down the rabbit hole than she’d expected.
“Get her lad,” Emerson said simply, never shying away from saying the stupidest things with a straight face, then walked determined between Dante and the Cofol named Zestari.
Dante jumped out of his reach and unsheathed his longsword, a resigned expression settling on his face. “Zola. Jinx,” He said sounding all professional and even a little sad. “Shoot the knight.”
Glen still stunned by the turn of events, and mostly horrified with the old man’s suggestion to attack the Cofol with the twin blades, hands shaking as much as his legs, managed a small step forward. Having faced trouble in the past and courtesy of his former profession, he knew odds. These were terrible. In fact, it would be better to drop everything and run away.
Rules of the Trade number three.
Don’t get caught.
Not fight it out and see what’ll happen.
He could make it.
Probably.
Take a breath ‘fore betting kid, Crafton used to say. A right prick that bastard was, Glen thought. Sure enough, in the time it took him to make that small forward movement the situation changed.
Odds and gambling are like that.
Zola, finger firm on the trigger of her crossbow, howled something fierce as an arrow punched through her left shoulder a good two-thirds of the way, before stopping.
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“ARCHER!”
Not everyone realized, what had transpired at first. The two leather and mail-clad Issir fighters moved on Emerson steel drawn. Dante ducked under an overhead swing from the knight and then rolled away, eyes searching frantically for the hidden danger.
The Northman standing on his right shoulder retaliated with a massive downward cut of his battleaxe. Emerson managed to parry it away and to the ground with a fluid move, almost toppling the bigger man over. Zola lost her crossbow and dropped on her knees, blood sprayed on her neck, red turned dark -almost black- in the lurking sunset, hand trying to dislodge the arrow shaft and failing.
“SHIT… I’M HURT!” She cried in shock, teeth rattling.
Behind the charging Zestari, but a good ten meters away, the ghoulish girl with the pink hair, pulled another arrow from a wooden quiver, dipped the tip in a small sheath and rolled towards the side, her attention trained beside the east wall of the giant pyramid.
Glen realized she had two small holes where her nose should’ve been. Also she had already fired an arrow as well. A troubling detail, he’d completely missed.
“WHERE?!” Dante bellowed, a good deal of fear in his voice now, right as Glen’s field of view was filled with the leering approach of Zestari. He had to move. Or remember how to fight. The woman’s right shoulder twitched once, drawing his attention to the shortsword she held, its tip pointing low.
“You’re dead boy,” The Cofol Assassin hissed and attacked with her other blade, catching him unawares.
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