“I hears there's some guys 'round here who says we're sissies ! I'll tell ye' that we ain't got no sissies among us and prove it to ye' 'cause we bandits has only three rules !

One, bandits gots to be mean and foul-mouthed ! We ain't got no sissies and flower-loving guys here !

Two, to become a bandit you can't know how to read 'n' write ! Those is sissy things !

Three, no washing ! Keeping 'emselves clean 'n' proper is for sissies ! No sissies among us bandits !

Four, we ain't got no time for tactics 'n' strag... starteg... … we ain't got no time for them fancy smartass tricks ! That's for sissies !

-Disclaimer”

* * *

Erin

Under the crimson sky, the blood splattered on the ground had never felt so red.

Amidst the guts and the bodies, Erin was still standing.

She was extenuated and injured, but she stood her ground. She was the last one. All the others guys from her unit were most likely dead.

They've been playing with us from the beginning. They could have easily crushed us with their numbers.

Now they were playing with her. Cutting and slashing her, just enough to hurt her, but not kill her. She tried to defend and parry nonetheless, but they would have no difficulty in killing her if they got serious. That is, if they even decided to kill her without doing anything else with her first.

She'd be lucky if she died fighting, actually. She must have killed at least a dozen of brigands just by herself. She didn't dare to imagine what they could do to her if they wanted revenge.

Erin was skilled enough to believe she wouldn't lose against any of them in a duel, even blindfolded, but that was no duel : it was sixty versus ten at the beginning.

She was smart enough to know how to get herself out of such a situation, but she wasn't alone. Even with her comrades dead, she still had the villagers to protect. She would normally survive something like that by fighting freely without concerning herself with anybody, or by running away.

But she couldn't do that at the time – she had morals, although loose ones according to herself, but still, she had some – and now that she had gotten herself injured, she wasn't confident she could flee even if she wanted anyway.

The only way was to kill her way through.

But in spite of her strength and stamina, she was too tired and they were too numerous. Some bastards had already started to pillage the houses and drag away the women, like they had already won. Which wasn't half wrong, she thought.

She had trouble breathing and blood was flowing on her right eye, blinding it, because of a large cut above it.

She couldn't move her leg as she wanted. Probably had something to do with the three or four arrows and bolts stuck into it.

She felt she had a long wound on her left cheek but she couldn't afford to check it. She would be left with a nasty scar after that.

Heh, who am I kidding ?

She had no idea on how to survive this right now.

As she was readying herself for the next blow, there was loud cracking sound accompanying a brief but intense flash. It was so sudden that she almost lost her balance. When she regained her vision, she saw blood and fuming body parts. From the group of bandit circling her and the villagers, a large chunk was missing.

She caught on what happened a moment before a deafening shout struck everyone's ears.

“MONGRELS ! HOW UNSIGHTLY CAN YOU BANDITS GET ? REJOICE, FOR THIS IS YOUR ONLY CHANCE ! I GIVE YOU A CHOICE, DIE OR BE DEAD !”

Silence befell the whole village and a mumbling voice could be heard.

“Hm ? That didn't go as I planned... Did I stutter ?”

Did he mean 'die or be gone' ?

The bandits answered first.

“Who the fuck are ye' ?!”

“Yerr' a mage ? Oi ! He's a mage !”

“Kill him !”

If the wizard's intention was to gather everyone's eye on himself, it worked quite well, Erin thought.

The bandits were now very wary of the mage who had instantly killed off a third of their number. Even those who were busy holding valuables or ripping girls' clothes were now ready to fight him.

With the man's surprising and flashy entrance, Erin had time to catch her breath and have a brief respite. She was able to cool her head. The brigands were way too preoccupied by the new danger, and she wasn't going to let this chance pass.

As she buried her large sword in a ruffian's back, she saw the strange mage jump high and landing not far from everyone.

His face wore a large grin from ear to ear.

* * *

Azcheron

Azcheron had just finished his dramatic arrival and stood in the main plaza's entrance, which was also the village's entrance, while the bandits were yelling something to him.

Rhaaa ?! I messed up my entrance ! Me ! How could I ! Unfathomable. Back in the village I was always praised by Vara for my perfect proclamations ! Damn.

Vara's announcements are always the most stylish. She has a way with words, that woman.

Still, it looks like it did the trick. Even the guys who were pillaging came to see me.

He noticed that the last knight – female knight, he finally realized – was not losing any time and used the opportunity to savagely backstab a bandit.

Good, he smiled to himself. I like my allies to be high-spirited. It is always important to keep one's objective in mind and to react quickly.

A grin appeared on his face, unbeknownst to him, as he insufflated mana in his lower body and jumped in the melee. They seemed surprised to see a magician come so close in a fight.

He waved his arms, throwing magic missiles and mana blasts, while paying attention to the knight and the villagers as not to hurt them, and a few paralysing lighting bolts for good measure.

Azcheron didn't need to chant or prepare his spells, he had a sufficient mastery of raw mana to do without that. Artificial and vocal constructs just became a hindrance, passed a certain point.

Well, he would not be lying if he said he was the best at manipulating raw mana on the island. Even Anton or his father weren't as good as him. Mirna could catch up to him though, if she trained hard.

Not that the bandits would care about that. They didn't look like they cared to know why and how they were being thrown through houses or getting their limbs detached. Even if they did, they wouldn't have the time. They probably just knew they had to attack, and fast, because they were being stomped on. Some tried bows and crossbows but the projectiles were getting blasted along with their users.

Azcheron was throwing his spells quickly and accurately, while eyeing the female knight. He didn't know much about swordsmanship, yet it was obvious she was fighting in a peculiar way.

Although she looked dangerously injured, she twisted her body and rolled and moved with a certain nimbleness. All while swinging with strength a heavy-looking sword with one hand and expertly wielding a parrying dagger in the other. He'd expect such a dagger to be used with something like a rapier, but she seemed to do more than well with her large sword.

By the looks of it, she couldn't use one of her legs, yet she found means to fight nonetheless.

He saw her bury her dagger in a tough-looking bandit's shoulder and use his weight to catapult herself – Azcheron couldn't describe the scene otherwise – toward a small group of enemies, whirling about with her sword arm extended as she landed amongst the surprised bandits, slashing through them and even beheading one.

The tough bandit, although injured, tried to take her down, but she deflected his blow with ease and cleaved into him with an heavy overhead slash.

The sword carved through the collar bone and the torso, finally stopping in his abdomen.

With one hand ?!

It was a too surreal a feat. Her sword must have been of really good quality, perhaps also enchanted. Or even her body, maybe. Or she was really really strong.

Regardless, he was quite impressed. Her style was brutal but precise. He actually thought she was elegant.

I'd very much like to see what she can do when she isn't covered in bloody cuts and arrows sticking out everywhere.

It seemed that Azcheron's arrival gave her enough spirit and hope to push herself to her limit.

But as he expected, she didn't last long. Her movements were getting sluggish. Azcheron decided to wrap up the fight before she'd get killed. There weren't many enemies remaining anyway.

He took care of the closest ones to her with magic spears, aiming for the heads – he seriously went for the kill now, he wouldn't risk a lighting bolt failing to dispose of an attacker.

He saw her falling on the ground at the same time, probably about to lose consciousness. At least now she was more or less safe. Setting aside her crap-load of injuries.

He killed off the few brigands that were trying to approach the crowd of villagers. Those who were dragged away earlier had regrouped with the others, so it made his job significantly easier.

Azcheron took a few minutes to go around the village and finishing off the last enemies. Some were about to flee, but since he couldn't risk them coming back later, he decided not to spare them.

Some moments passed and he came back to the main plaza. A quick glance told him that while a few villagers had died, no one seemed to be grievously injured. He could concentrate on the female soldier first.

As he gave out instructions to the locals to gather the corpses together – he had to look for the artefact – and to bring him those who needed healing, he crouched next to the knight and could finally observe her from close.

She looked older than him by a few years, and had very sharp and defined features.

What he thought from afar to be blood-soaked hair was apparently her real colour. Deep, vibrant crimson, darkened a bit because of the blood – hers, mostly.

While examining the injuries on her face, he saw the deep cut around her eye. Lifting her eyelids to see the state of her eyes, he was surprised to see beautiful and clear light brown irises. Almost golden.

Azcheron sighed in relief when he made sure she wasn't going to lose her sight. He wasn't confident he could heal that. That'd be a shame. Those golden eyes.

He quickly but carefully removed the broken arrows puncturing her body while suppressing the blood loss with magic. Most of the cuts turned out to be shallow, but they could easily get infected, so he used a bit of mana to clean everything that could become nasty.

Now he had to heal her. The healing arts were probably among the most difficult kind of magic there was in the world. Even Azcheron wasn't very proficient in it. Almost no one was, actually.

Healing someone was extremely demanding. Not only the mana required was highly taxing, because you had to manipulate and convert matter at an extremely small and precise scale, but it was mainly dependant on anatomical knowledge.

Moreover, it had to be of a hellish and precise perfection. You couldn't afford to screw up or the consequences could be as bad as the original injury. You had to be careful not to make a muscle regrow the wrong way, or clumsily patching up an artery. And then there were many things you couldn't heal or cure.

He had read in books about legendary mages that would chant some prayer and heal people fully without even knowing in detail about their condition, regardless of the seriousness, going from severed limbs and gouged eyes to plagues and mental illnesses, but he had never heard of anything like that existing in real life.

That's why healing magic was tremendously valuable. Anton had told him that some highly skilled doctors apparently knew a few tricks to enhance their practise, but there was only a handful of mages who had a real mastery of the art. From what he had gathered, most had spend all their life learning in some sort of temple in a far away country, and even they couldn't always save their patients.

The process was slow and delicate, and there was the risk that she'd pass away before he was done.

Therefore, Azcheron could only afford to treat the more threatening injuries. Critical wounds, and the gash covering her eye in blood. So he didn't spend too much time on the shallow cuts. He never took the time to correctly learn how to regrow skin tissues anyway. So, better let nature do its thing rather than try, fail and turn the whole thing into a bubonic mess. That meant the wounds would leave scars, including the long but relatively harmless cut that went from her left cheek to her jaw.

Anatomical knowledge and regular medicine would have to make up for the rest.

Believing he had done a fairly okay job, he asked the man who seemed to be the village chief to take care of her and to finish treating her others small injuries.

He tried to look through the others soldiers' bodies for survivors, to no avail. He still had to examine a few villagers, and after that, he would have to search the bandits' bodies. There should have been a certain dangerous artefact laying in someone's pocket, and he didn't want some nobody to dispose of it like junk, or worse, realizing what it was.

He'd sleep soundly tonight. The day had been tiring.

* * *

Erin

Erin awoke with her eyes jerked open. Pained surged though her whole body. She took a moment to look around and realized she wasn't in the middle of a battle.

Where am I ? Looks like a bedroom. Did I sleep here ?

She examined her aching body. She wasn't covered in blood and there were no arrows stuck in her limbs anymore. She had a lot of bandages though.

Did we win ? I survived, at least. What about the others?

As she promptly tried to get up, she almost fell on the ground. She was still too exhausted for brusk movements, apparently.

Erin slowly and carefully put some clothes and made her way through the room and opened the door, leading to what seemed to be the main room of the house. She recognized the old woman in the room, if she remembered well, she was the wife of the village chief.

The woman noticed her and greeted her. “Oh, you're awake. How are you feeling ?”

“Awful. I'll live, though, thank you. I take it I owe you my survival ?”

“My, I merely dressed your wounds after most of the work was done.”

“What do you mean ?”

The old woman told her how the strange mage healed her after the battle was over. Erin did not remember much after the wizard's proclamation. She had pushed her limits and was solely focused on her opponents. She just knew he casted a few spells while she was fighting. She figured she must have blacked-out shortly after.

“How long was I asleep ?”

“A little more than two days. It's morning right now.”

“I see.”

“... Say, about you comrades...” The lady was hesitant.

“... I know. I figured that much. They didn't make it.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. We were doing our job,” Erin replied, with a bitter smile.

“The mage is still there, if you'd like to thank him. He has been staying at the inn and helping around for the past days. Do you feel well enough to walk ?”

“I should be fine. I'll do that then. Thanks again.”

She exited the house and walked across the plaza. The inn was on the opposite side of it. Although the air was chilling, the village seemed to be active. People were busy repairing houses and bringing in firewood. It became a priority since the winter was coming sooner than they expected.

As she calmly strode, she touched her face and finally noticed the bandages on it.

I wonder if I'll have scars. I guess so, I think I had pretty deep cuts. She thought while massaging her left cheek. She didn't worry too much about the wound above her eye, as her bangs should be enough to hide it.

She entered the inn and looked around. There was a blonde youth sitting in a corner and eating by himself, standing out like a sore thumb with his attire.

He didn't look to be older than sixteen, maybe seventeen, but she thought he could appear younger than he might really be, as he seemed to be a skilled magician. Young magicians were rarely that skilled, especially with healing magic. He was still younger than her, that at least she was sure of. The boy – somehow she felt like calling him 'boy' regardless of his age– saw her and waved her to come.

As she sat down at his table, they quietly stared at each other for a bit. The boy had long blonde hair and wore a strange attire with feathers around the collar. He had remarkable eyes but the rest of his features, although sharp and rather pleasing for the eye, weren't too unordinary. Yet his overall look gave him a sort of exotic aura.

The inn-keeper broke the silence by asking if she wanted to eat something. After ordering, she decided to start the conversation.

“Good morning.”

“Hello. Did you sleep well ?”

“...Eh, yes, thank you. I heard you saved my life. You have my gratitude.”

“Don't worry about it. Sorry I couldn't help your friends.”

She gave half hearted smile, showing that there was no helping it.

“We understood the risks when we took the job. I didn't get to really know them for too long, but they were nice.”

“You're a mercenary then ? I thought you a knight of some sort, with your armour and whatnot.”

Well, that wouldn't be too far from the truth either, she replied in her mind.

“Our band was hired by the lord of Quarras to help patrol the lands. The regular army soldiers are short-handed with the increasing banditry around here.”

“I figured something along those lines.”

There was an awkward silence as they realized they didn't know each other's name.

“I'm Azcheron, by the way.”

“Erin.”

“What are you going to do now, Erin ?”

She thought for a bit. She could go back to Quarras and either quit her current job or continue once she was placed in a new squad. But she didn't really feel obligated to stay in the region. She had done her part already and it had left her with a bitter aftertaste.

“I'm not sure. I only joined the mercenaries for experience. Maybe I'll travel somewhere after I take care of a few things in Quarras.”

The idea made her uneasy. What would those guys say when they see her coming back alone, with everyone else dead, trying to leave the mercenary band ? Especially that guy Yaras. He wouldn't simply let that pass, seeing as he had a few close friends in her unit.

“Mmh.” Azcheron was smiling. He was about to say something when his eyes locked on the counter.

Erin turned to see what caught his attention. Apparently, it was just a rider delivering letters who had spent the night here and was about to leave for the capital.

Azcheron got up and walked toward him. They exchanged a few words and the man nodded. The mage then turned to Erin, telling her to excuse him for a moment. He went upstairs, to his room, she assumed.

After a bit, he came back to the main hall with paper, ink, and a pen. He stood next to the counter and started writing.

So he's literate. He's a magician after all so that's not surprising. And he has unusual but fine clothes too. Maybe he's a noble from a foreign country ? Yet he speaks fluently without any apparent accent.

Magicians were more of a unusual occurrence. Most were from nobility or at least educated families that could afford magic schools or tutors. It wasn't all that rare to meet a mage for Erin in particular, as they often gathered in large cities with magic academies and places of military interest, and those were places she knew well. But a talented one that could also use healing magic, and not even her age, that she didn't get to see everyday.

After handing the letter to the man, with a few coins for his troubles, Azcheron sat back in front of Erin.

“Sorry for the wait. I had to inform a friend of something.”

She nodded. The boy went on. “I was going to say earlier that I was planning to visit Quarras next.”

“I see. You're a traveller then ?”

“Mmh. I wanted to sightsee the country a bit more, but it turns out that I'll be on my way to the capital sooner than I wanted.”

“Because of the winter, I guess ?”

“Right. The villagers told me I'd better not wander out there when it comes. And since my destination was the capital in the end...” He laid back on his chair. “I don't really know the way but whatever.”

What a carefree attitude.

“Well, I'll depart for Quarras as soon I'm well enough for the trip. If you don't mind waiting for me, I could show you the way.”

That's the least I can do to repay him. And it'll be much safer for me to travel with someone like him when I've not entirely recovered. Heh. ...Shit, isn't that him doing me another favour in that case ?

Azcheron beamed a large smile. “I'd consider it a boon to be in the company of such a sword practitioner. I very much enjoyed your performance.”

Why does it feel like he's suddenly way too enthusiastic... And by performance, does he mean me blacking out in front of a horde of bandits ?

She could only respond with an uneasy smile.