《The Wolfram Chronicles》Chapter 21 - A Nobles Scorn
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Vance stood silently, watching the group of armed men as they drew ever closer. A gloved hand gently wrapped around the brim of the sheath of his sabre, thumbnail gently pushing the guard up-- ready to send the blade free. Eyes focused, mind clear, a slight shiver ran down his spine as impending combat drew closer. His eyes darkened as his mood shifted into a welcoming state of killing. So much he detested this side of himself, just how easily it was for him to dismiss his feelings of taking another life was what truly scared the blonde.
As the platoon-sized group approached, Vance could better view the men and noted how they were all as he had previously seen the military to be equipped with. Wearing leather dublets and armed with tools for killing. They looked like your typical hired thugs, but as they came to a stop some fifty feet from Vance, a single lone figure pushed through the group.
"So... you's the unlucky sod we got to kill, huh?" Stated the leading man who towered above the rest.
The man stood out as not only being the tallest but also the most experienced of the bunch, given how he carried himself. His appearance was what you'd expect from a man who had dedicated himself to the unscrupulous acts of crime and murder. His face marred by deep faded scars, his mop of swept-back black hair was greasy and heavy. Everything about this man screamed a killer, and it was for this reason that Vance stood at the ready.
Vance took a few tentative steps forward, a slight smirk spreading across his face as he closes the distance. "And, seems you're the ugly fucker I'm about to lay flat on his ass." Vance retorted, prompting the other man to scowl.
"Funny guy, ain't ya?" He hissed, "Won't be so funny with that pretty face of yours cut up though, I bet!" A cheesy threat that had Vance rolling his eyes, egging the thug on further.
Vance could tell this man was not used to being insulted or being looked down upon like he was. It was funny how simply this man thought and acted as though he were a cartoon villain.
"Are all you this dumb and ugly? Oh, wait, it seems that fellow in the back there has a good look. Too bad he's not in charge, then you might actually be a little scary." Vance grinned.
"This fucker... Fuck 'em up, boys!" The man bellowed.
Almost immediately after the call was made, the host of thugs rushed forward, brandishing various weapons; some blunt, some swords, some knives-- all good for killing. Vance stood at the ready as his thumb, along with his high-human strength, flicked the blade free from his sheath, launching it outright as his dominant hand reached out, grabbing the sword and bringing it to bear.
The first man drew close, Vance stepped back, right foot forward, left foot back, knees slightly bent, weight on the ball of the foot... time slowing down for Vance as his focus came to a razor's edge. Pulling the blade up and overhead, he swung the blade down, cleaving the man clean in two. The second barely registered the death of his compatriot as Vance lashed out, blade pulling in suddenly before thrust into the high inside of the man's torso, between the chest and shoulder. The tip dug in deep, causing the man to cry out in pain before superhuman strength ripped the entire top half off with a single slash, killing him instantly.
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It was then the others faltered, pausing for a moment in awe and fear at the sudden and violent deaths of the first two. The pause only lasted a second, as they soon came to register the threat before them as Vance lunged forward and past the corpses as they crumpled to the street. He gave them little time to react; blade reigned in close, torso and centre of gravity made low, the next of his attackers swung high as he went low, sweeping the heavy tipped blade with a clean cut through leather and flesh the man's abdomen coming apart into separate halves. Another struck out, trying to land a blow to Vance as he focused on the front, hoping to capitalize on the distracted swordsman. What he saw instead were two sea blue eyes glancing out towards him as the spray of blood from the man's stomach washed over Vance's face.
Bringing his left hand down flat on the street, Vance rolled away, taking advantage of the speed and confusion to dodge the fatal strike before launching a Riposte. Stabbing through the ribcage, burying itself deep in flesh and bone, it looked as though the attackers had their opening finally. Standing for a second, Vance watched four figures dart towards him, weapons striking out towards him with lethal intent. Once they drew close, Vance pushed free the screaming man, letting the first two strikes at their comrade, finishing him in their mad dash to kill Vance, before the other two were promptly stopped with a veracious series of deflections that parried their weapons away, exposing their weak points. Capitalizing on the heightened reflexes of his High Human race, Vance counter-attacked with graceful and nimble ease, striking each with a flèche. The other two didn't fare much better, as Vance catapulted himself forward with a mighty lunge, sabre brought low enough to cut through the three torsos with ease.
Sweeping his foot around, Vance utilized the momentum of his lunge to bring himself into a guarded position. The once smug and confident group of thugs now frozen in place, eyes wide with shock and fear at how quickly and effortlessly their compatriots had been slain. Even their fearsome leader seemed to pale in the face of potential death. Hesitating only for a minute, he shook his head, greasy strands of hair coming down his face as he pushed his remaining men onward.
"Come on! He's just one man!" He roared.
The man shoved forward his subordinate in desperation, as Vance launched himself up into a flunge (flying lunge), striking the first man clean through the chest before sweeping the blade free through flesh and bone before cleaving the head free off the second man who fared no better than the others. As the two bodies crumbled to the ground, the others quickly stopped again, this time many of them even beginning to run in a full-on panicked route. Vance stood ready to launch into another attack when a bellow came from behind.
"Ready... aim... FIRE!"
The sound of muskets thundered across the narrow street, narrowly missing Vance, mowing down what had been a large part of the retreating goons.
"Guard will march at the Ready!" The voice bellowed out again, prompting both Vance and the greasy-haired thug to turn and spot the well-ordered line of purple coated and bear skinned capped Grenadiers come rounding the corner bayoneting and rounding up any of the remaining thugs that came their way.
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"What?" Both men found themselves saying in unison.
Both looked to each other, then back at the Grenadiers. Seeing the scenario quickly turn into a lost cause, the greasy-haired man broke into a sprint down a nearby alley. For a second, Vance weighed the risks associated with letting the man go but found it would likely be an excellent message to send to the fat man who likely sent them in the first place. Having seen how quickly he had went through a handful of his men, it would be a good enough warning not to try that again.
So, standing in silent observation, he watched as the man ducked away within the alleyway before vanishing behind a corner, escaping certain death or imprisonment. Sheathing his blade, Vance turned to greet the company of Grenadiers who came marching up, rounding up all those who had surrendered while finishing off those who wailed in dying pain before a quick bayonet thrust to the throat silenced them.
"Thank you for the timely intervention!" Vance called out to the leading man.
Emerging from the line was the same Gate guard who had greeted him earlier, this time a little more exacerbated than before. "You certainly know how to stir up trouble, Colonel Wolfram." He started before both men shook hands.
"Heh, yeah...well, what can I say? I guess I'm popular?" Vance laughed with a shrug.
Coughing into his fist, the Commander tried to swiftly change the subject, "Yes, well, just be more careful about who you scorn. By the looks of it, I'd say these men were sent here to take that Wyvern behind you."
"Keyword: tried," Vance added.
The Commander shook his head and sighed, "Tried, yes", looking to the cut-up bodies of the men who 'tried'. "But still, it was a threat to your life and to the security of the city. Which is why we came, although you can thank the Lieutenant for that, she-"
"-Lara? Did she warn you? I thought I told her to fly straight for Luna..." Vance interrupted, causing the man's eye to visible twitch in annoyance.
"... the Lieutenant warned us before flying off, saying there were several groups of heavily armed men heading towards her old shop and asked us to provide reinforcements to you who was going to hold them off. It seems as though her fears were unwarranted, however." The Commander noted as he nodded towards the slain men Vance had killed.
"Ah... yes, that... to be perfectly honest, I was in a bad spot there before you came. Despite taking out these guys, there was still well over forty left and combat-ready." Vance tried to sound as sincere and thankful as he well possibly could, but the Commander wasn't having any of it as he waved the excuse aside.
"Be that as it may, you still inflicted enough of a moral shock to send the bastards running into our muskets." As he replied, both men began to walk back to the formation of Grenadiers, who made short work of rounding up those who hadn't escaped. "Either way, I'll still need you to fill out a report recounting the moments before they attacked. Chances are it was another scorned noble or fellow officer not too keen to see you with such a majestic beast."
"Likely," Vance replied, walking in tandem with his fellow Colonel. "I can give a whole detailed report fairly accurately, though once I'm done, I'll have to stow away any means to celebrate for later, as I'm sure you're well aware of my orders?" He asked.
"Yes... the Marshal already gave me some idea of your coming and goings and stated he wanted the Grenadiers and me here to provide you with as much assistance as possible in the future. Obviously... I don't have much say in the matter when you go off flying before any of my soldiers can actually provide escort... were you to actually wait a minute instead of flying off, this whole mess could likely have been averted!" He groaned.
Vance chuckled slightly, "If I knew, sure, but I didn't. No one told me any of this until just now, so if there's anyone you're going to blame, it's going to be the Marshal, not me. I was just doing what he ordered me to do. Come in, drop off the files, grab Lara, and head back to Luna to train the Regiment. That's it. Nothing about a guard detail or shit like that." Vance retorted.
Another sigh escaped through his lips as he facepalmed, "... so much... work..."
"Pardon?" Vance asked.
"Nothing, just... let's hurry up; the sooner we can get past this and finish those reports, the better." And with that, the two soon found themselves marching towards Kendirewen Square, where part of the troop broke off to process the prisoners, and the other returned to their duties.
Vance and the Commander, meanwhile, returned to the main office, where they quickly set about writing up the required report on the incident. Vance quickly filed through it with relative ease, having his High Human gifts to make writing and recalling the day's incident mere childsplay. On the other hand, the Commander was still busy filling out his side of the report when Vance made his goodbyes and said his final thanks before returning outside, wherein Magic stood waiting patiently.
Mounting Magic, Vance gave the Wyvern a few affectionate pats on the neck, "Come on, Magic, let's head back home. We have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it all in."
Once strapped to the harness and secured, the Wyvern shot up into the sky again; this time, Vance was unlikely to return to Anceburg for another six months, so he paid it a final glance over the shoulder, feeling as though he was bound to find himself with more enemies then friends if Franz was unable to clamp down on the Lancer Colonel from earlier. Letting out a heavy sigh, Vance snapped his gaze back to the forefront, looking on towards Luna and the Mountain Jewel.
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