Seraphina Dustrose's musket barked, sending another bandit diving for cover. Smoke curled from the barrel as she worked the ingenious mechanism, counting shots. Twenty-one left. It should be enough for this rabble.
"Last chance!" she shouted from behind the mansion's stone balustrade, her starched apron smudged with gunpowder. "This isn't worth dying for!"
A crossbow bolt splintered the stonework by her head. She ducked, mentally cataloging threats. Two were behind the fountain, three were using the garden planters as cover, and another trying to sneak through the rose bushes. The bandits had brought their makeshift battering ram to the service entrance, but her first warning shot had scattered them.
Seraphina glanced up at the wall where an ancestral patron - an old hero in a painting leading an army. "A little divine intervention wouldn't go amiss," she muttered to the painted figure, who gazed serenely back at the maid.
A commotion at the main gate drew her attention. Someone was running toward the mansion – a figure with wild grey hair, clothes torn and covered in something that glittered wetly in the sunlight. But it was what followed that made her blood freeze.
A massive slime undulated through the gateway, its gelatinous body eerily translucent in the sunlight. Within its bulk bones floated and an enormous skull inside, turning this way and that like some grotesque puppet. The creature was huge – bigger than any slime she'd ever seen.
"Mage!" she hissed, aiming her musket at the grey-haired head. If she could take out the one controlling the monster–
But something wasn't right. Before Seraphina pulled the trigger, the slime surged forward. It slammed into the nearest bandit, sending him flying into two others. They tumbled across the cobblestones in a tangle of limbs and curses.
"The skull!" one shouted, scrambling to his feet. "Destroy the core!"
The slime's translucent body rippled as it absorbed another strike, the embedded weapons becoming a deadly arsenal within its mass. Those bones inside weren't just floating anymore – they were being arranged with purpose, forming an internal lattice that deflected blows.
"Split up!" one of the bandits shouted, a burly man with an eyepatch. "Circle around!"
Seraphina felt a surge of relief at the unexpected help, as she marveled at the mage's power. Most controllers she'd encountered needed intense concentration to control even small specimens. Yet this grey-haired one was focused on getting into the mansion window barely paying attention to the massive creature!
Three bandits charged the slime, weapons raised. Steel plunged deep into the transparent mass, becoming stuck in the viscous body. The monster let out a sound—a hideous mockery of laughter. Then, while turning, it struck one off his feet with a shaft of spear stuck deep within.
"The core!" someone screamed. "We almost reached it!"
Seraphina risked a peek, brushing a strand of jet-black hair behind her ear. Two bandits had indeed managed to drive their weapons deep enough to reach the skull nearly. The slime's body had become more opaque where their blades penetrated, almost crystallizing around the wounds.
The slime flowed forward relentlessly, its mass now spreading across the courtyard. The remaining bandits struggled to keep their footing on the suddenly slick cobblestones. One by one, they lost their balance, sliding helplessly toward the creature, where that grinning skull waited.
But these weren't common thieves – they were professionals. The eyepatch-wearing leader produced something from his vest: a large glass vial with metallic powder. He hurled it at the slime as Seraphina's musket cracked again.
Time seemed to slow. The vial tumbled end over end through the air as her bullet streaked toward it. If that was what she thought it was – an alchemical dissolving agent – it could turn this battle very ugly, very quickly.
The bullet struck true, shattering the vial meters from the slime. Powder scattered harmlessly across the courtyard, sizzling where it landed on stone. The slime surged forward, engulfing the leader before he could produce another vial. His muffled cursing could be heard from within the creature's mass as it lifted him high into the air.
A flash of movement caught Seraphina's eye. One of the bandits, seeing his chance, was creeping up behind the mage with a dagger. The slime was occupied with three other raiders, too far away.
No time to think. Seraphina sighted down her barrel and squeezed. The shot caught the would-be killer in the leg, dropping him with a howl. His dagger clattered across the cobblestones as he clutched his bleeding thigh.
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The sharp punch in her left arm came as a surprise. Seraphina looked down to see a crossbow bolt protruding from her sleeve, blood already darkening the pristine white fabric. "Well," she muttered, working the mechanism to chamber another round, "that's going to be difficult to wash out."
--
Thristle yelped as a musket ball whistled past her ear, diving through the window frame in an ungraceful scramble of torn clothes and scraped hands. Her tunic caught on the latch, yanking her back before she ripped free and tumbled onto polished floorboards. So much for her careful plan to sneak in. This was her chance to run from both - the monster, and thugs while they were fighting each other. Perfect plan.
She'd mistaken the bandits for mansion guards at first – an error that nearly cost her dearly when they'd tried to grab her outside the gates. Now she was caught between armed thugs and the monster, neither of which she could control.
Keeping low, she crept along a corridor lined with gleaming suits of armor. Their empty visors seemed to watch her pass, silent witnesses to her desperation. The wealth on display was obscene—gilt-framed mirrors, marble busts, and silver candelabras that could feed a family for months—no wonder the bandits had targeted this place.
The relative silence shattered as a door burst open behind her. Heavy boots thundered on wooden floors as one of the bandits charged up a grand staircase. Thristle darted toward what she hoped was the kitchen, seeking a back exit, but another ruffian emerged from a side room, grabbing at her tunic. She struggled but yanked herself free with a kick to his face, and ran.
---
Seraphina leaned against the wall, blood dripping from her wounded arm. Gunsmoke stung her eyes, making them water. The creak of opening doors sent her fumbling for her knife – the rifle was jammed, useless with only one working hand.
"Not so tough anymore, eh?” The bandit asked as he briskly walked towards her.
A high-pitched shout from outside cut through the tension. Then, impossibly, the family patron on the painting - a great warrior on stallion found Seraphina worthy of ancestral protection and exploded.
---
Thristle was running when the main door burst open. The slime had followed her inside – because of course it had. Nothing in her life could ever be simple, could it? With nowhere else to go, she sprinted for the grand staircase, taking the steps two at a time despite her legs protesting the effort. Her heart hammered against her ribs as shouts of alarm from around turned to screams.
She reached the upper landing as the creature's massive bulk surged through the foyer. Angry crimson threads wove through its translucent mass like lightning in a storm cloud. The wooden stairs groaned and splintered under its weight, boards snapping as it began to ascend.
Thristle ran along the upper corridor, cursing under her breath. Behind her, she could hear the structure protesting as the slime's enormous mass closed in, its acidic secretions eating into the wood. Her parents would have known exactly what to do, but all Thristle had was her wits and a distinct lack of grace.
The corridor ahead split into two branches. Thristle's fingers left smears on the expensive wallpaper as she used the corner to pivot left, her boots sliding on the polished wood. Behind her, the slime slammed the wall and went through, sending someone flying. A thug hit the opposite wall hard, showered in wooden splinters and shredded tapestry.
---
A huge slimy blob poured itself inside. The floor creaked menacingly, its wooden boards protesting under the unnatural weight. But the maid didn't hear; she stared with bleary eyes, the ringing in her ears slowly subsiding.
She raised her head and saw him. Standing, looming over her - her savior, her knight. Her eyes traced over the tanned, toned torso covered in sweat beneath the ripped tunic, taking in his flushed cheeks, and a shy pointy ear sticking out a bit from chin-length dirty grey hair. His green eyes locked with hers as he gallantly spoke:
„Ye ok lass? We need to run, but the stairs are proper busted now. ”
"I-I thank you!" the maid stammered.
She shyly took his outstretched hand, which seemed a bit... small? Rising to her feet, she saw the top of his head and frowned. Wasn't he supposed to be like... taller? Damn you perspective,the maid thought to herself.
Thristle grinned. Some things never changed – even in danger, people couldn't help but comment on it.
Seraphina smiled back, ignoring the rows of sharp teeth revealed by Thristle's grin. In the midst of chaos, she found herself oddly charmed by her unlikely savior.