[WP] The best swordsman in the world need not fear the second best swordsman, but the worst one.

...

"So this boss of yours, he's like us- isn't he?" Rob asked, idly drumming his hands along the Jeep's wheel with an impatient rhythm as they cruised down the road.

"The Captain?" To his right, a taller man with a perfectly shaved head sat in perfect form. Arms crossed and face expressionless, he watched the bends and twists of the forest as the tires passed over rough divots and patches of muddy stone. "So far as I know, the answer to your question is yes: he hails from the realm of your origins."

"So he's like... ordinary?"

"Are you implying Eron is not ordinary?" A woman's voice piped up from the vehicle's backseat, irritation clear. "Perhaps hinting something further?"

"No- for god's sake Lady, I'm not dissing your man over here." Rob waved a rough-gesture with a waving hand. "Joe, back me up- I'm not that much of a prick, right?"

"Sandra, he's not that much of a prick." A tired voice, also originating from the backseat, mumbled confirmation.

"Ha, see?" The gesture turned to a thumb's-up as a smile flashed back through the rear-view mirror.

"Sometimes he is pretty close though." The tired voice continued.

"HEY- Not cool Joe." Rob growled, hands falling back to wheel. "All this adventuring, I'd think it might put you in better spirits."

"Too many fucking zombies for that." Came the muttered reply. "Way too many."

"Yeah, well- apparently that's just the trend at the moment." Rob said, turning his attention back to the front passenger. "Your Captain and that Queen he works for, dealing with the undead is their job, right? Those worker-folks were saying something like that over by the wall. You know: the builders who were all ogling Sandra's ass?"

"Eron, please tell me I can kill him." The woman leaned forward, eyes locking with the vehicle's driver in the reflective glass as the faintest scent of ozone settled into the cabin air. "Just say the word."

"No." A robed arm raised, open hand dismissing the suggestion. "Sandra, the Captain's orders were clear. He's keen on having these two help us, along with any others we happen to find in the coming days." The man turned with a soft nod arms once again crossing as he continued, "And yes, Rob, you are correct. The Armies rallied beneath the Queen's Generals should presently be dealing with the largest of hordes while we speak. The Captain was intended to rendezvous with that force, but he never arrived."

"So he ran away?" The suggestion brought another hiss of anger from the backseat. "What is your problem lady?"

"He wouldn't run away." Sandra muttered, sitting back heavily against the padded seat. "Eron, you're absolutely certain the Captain won't mind if we only keep Joe? Maybe he'll change his mind."

"Sandra, his orders were very clear."

"Fine."

"HEY- HEY, I'm right here you freaking maniac. Plot my death somewhere else: my car, my rules. Anyways, I'm just asking a couple questions before I drive us into some wacky fucked-up shit, alright? I mean, I'm fine with that sort of thing, but Joe's not a huge fan."

"I'm really not."

"See? Besides, I can't have him dying on me, Joe's girlfriend would murder me."

"Ah, I'd like to meet her." Sandra muttered, turning away to stare out the window with an irritated huff. "I feel like we might get along well."

"Yeah-yeah, very funny. Seriously though Eron, what's the deal? If he's not the kind to run off into the sunset, something must have gone wrong, right?" turning the wheel slowly as the Jeep jostled along a short dip in the road, Rob glanced over to the robed man. "You've been more quiet and stoic-ee than usual, and I'm starting to think that's not a good sign." The jeep shook again, tires thumping over loose stone before the road once again straightened out. "Eron?" He asked again.

"We have reason to believe that he may have been ambushed." Eron replied, face serious. "The Faith does not think highly of him, or the Queen. Though he was with the Honored Gravekeeper, I fear-"

"If that crazy Elf lets him die before she does, I'll choke on my own robe."

"Noted Sandra, but my the concern is not whether he possesses adequate escorts. It is that he failed to communicate anything more than his initial check-in at the Seventeenth Outpost."

"You think that he's still there?" Rob asked, eyes peering ahead along the road.

"The Queen most certainly does." Eron replied. "Sandra and I received a message by paging-stone: a costly measure by anyone's standard. It likely took half of the Royal-mages in the Castle to send."

"Paging stone, huh?" Eyes ahead, Rob reached into his pocket to pull out a small device. "You don't all have cell-phones or anything?"

"No." Eron replied. "Though the Captain has shown me such a thing, our realm lacks such technology. At closest guess, a paging-stone or the Scribe Networks are the nearest we possess at this time."

"Well... huh. That's just so weird to me- is that weird to you Joe? I think that's wicked weird."

"Rob! Will you shut-up already? I'm trying to sleep."

"Ah, my bad, my bad buddy." Rob lowered his voice, continuing. "Well, it's not something we're used to, all I'm getting at. Honestly, just not being able to google maps of the region has been an adjustment- is this our turn?" Rob stopped, vehicle slowing as he motioned towards the approaching fork in the road, two wooden signs holding curled and spinning scripts. Eyeing them with narrowed eyes, beside him Eron nodded.

"Yes, we must head South. At this pace, I expect it may be within the day that we find ourselves at the destination." Eron pointed towards the left-most route as Rob turned the wheel and the vehicle began to pull off the main road. "After that, I can only hope all is well upon our arrival."

"Wow- you're actually worried, aren't you? I didn't think you were the type to crack under pressure. A big strong-silent type doesn't really fit that stereotype." Rob threw a thumb over his shoulder towards the backseat and trunk. "You should relax a bit. We've got more ammo than any vehicle short of the national-guard really has a right to. "

"It is more the timing that worries me, than our capacity for combat."

"What, you think we're late to the party?"

"It is very likely that we are very late to the, so called, party."

"Well, isn't the Captain a Mage? Killed a Dragon, saved a city, has a smoking hot-elf and a bunch of armored Knights as bodyguards?" Rob chuckled, fingers drumming another rhythmic pattern along the steering-wheel. "He sounds like the type that you're not supposed to worry about."

"The best swordsman in the world need not fear the second best swordsman, but the worst one."

"What was that Sandra? I couldn't hear you sage-like words over the thinly veiled death-glare you keep throwing at the mirror."

"I said: "The best swordsman in the world need not fear the second best swordsman, but the worst one." From the backseat, Sandra repeated, her patience audibly at its final measures. "And the elf isn't that hot."

"Ah, so cryptic wisdom with a side of jealous dream-crushing? Those are some low blows Sandra." Rob said, raising his eyebrows as he stared behind him through the rear-view. "Are from you being peanut-butter and jelly of the Elf, mind explaining what the heck is that first part supposed to mean?"

"It means that when steel is drawn, all it takes is one mistake. No matter how skilled someone is, a single unexpected motion can spell disaster. It is one of the fiercest lessons we learned from our time in the West." Instead of Sandra, Eron answered with a firm tone. The Jeep rattled as the gravel began to rise up from the muddy turf, ground growing firmer beneath the undercarriage. "I know very well: If one does the completely unexpected, even the least-experienced individual has the potential to slay a Master."

"You really think that-"

"I know it." Eron repeated, formal tone lost and replaced by a cold voice. "I know it well."

For once, Rob had no response.

As the silence stretched in the cabin and the road solidified into thicker stone, Rob listened to the rattle of thrown pebbles and grit, drumming along with quiet beats. The awkwardness of it grew, interrupted only slightly by the soft snores of Joe, who was now clumsily drooling on the back-window.

"Well." Rob finally spoke, nodding as he eyed the vehicle's dashboard before glancing back up to the road ahead. "I guess that settles it."

"Settles what?" Sandra questioned with another hiss from the back seat.

"I now I finally have a good excuse to speed." Rob replied, before slamming his foot to the floor.