CHAPTER 8: BATTLE ROYALLE

Jerin did not spend the night carefully soul searching, and certainly didn't spend it strategizing or in prayer. Even if she were the sort to do those things, the long day had taken a heavy toll on her, even more so than it had on the others. As a result, she simply slept. She slept and she dreamt.

In this dream, she was back at the shrine where she had first discovered the holy sword, but it had become a much different place than she had remembered. Everything was dark, and the mouse could see nothing but the shining floor, along with her reflection within it, beneath her. The reflection was still joined to the mouses feet, as reflections are known to do, and she looked towards them to see it, but her own feet, her own entire body, for that matter, showed the mildly distorted pattern of the floor texture. At once she had realized that she was, in fact, the reflection, looking out at the real Jerin.

While joined at the feet, the two didn't quite mirror one another's movements, with her looking to the real mouse, but the real mouse scanning ahead of herself, seeking a path through the darkness. That was when the eyes began to appear within the blackness. And the teeth. And the claws. Creatures of all manner of shape and size formed from behind the non-reflection, little more than shadows themselves within the darkness. All the while, the swords-woman, seemingly oblivious to their presence, continued to look ahead. Jerin shouted to warn her, but she was just a reflection, and reflections can't talk, can they? She crouched down and slammed her fists into the glass-like wall between worlds, but of course she could make no sound, much less hope to break through. All the while the looming, terrible figures within the dark drew ever closer. It was at this time the other her, the real her, looked down to the terrified reflection at her feet with a knowing smile. With a single sweep of it's paw, a streak of light tore through the darkness, removing the eyes, teeth and who knows what else along with it, the holy sword simply appearing within her hand. The reflected Jerin looked on in awe, before looking down (or up, as it were) at its own paws, seeing the long, shining blade lying across them.

The two smiled to one another, the reflected Jerin immediately feeling foolish. No matter how dark things may have seemed, there was nothing to be afraid of.

Like so many dreams, this one was forgotten soon after she had awakened, the details slipping away within seconds, and within minutes, she hadn't remembered dreaming at all, let alone what it had been about. Even when each and every individual component of it fell from her memories, however, she still carried something of it within her. It seemed so silly to be bothered by the boundless nature, those stupid birds or the words of a dark lord who, despite it's massive size and strength, was too cowardly to truly live. There were far more important things to focus on. There was a battle to be fought, and an enemy to slay.

Mathias, always an early riser, quietly stepped out from the shared room. By the time they had returned to the walled city, it was already getting dark, their spirits, as a whole, in a similar state. It had been a long day, and they needed rest. They all, of course, had homes within the city, but opted for a stay at the inn for multiple reasons. It was helpful for an adventuring party to remain together, for one. Beyond that, the two siblings thought that it would be awkward to just come back home within one day of their grand farewell, and Mathias simply didn't want to have to deal with his room-mates. As for Rowan, going back down and up all of those stairs was an significant ordeal in itself. Plus, sleeping at the inn was just the sort of thing that adventurers did. It wasn't as though the city tended to get many tourists, yet the inn itself thrived, primarily due to the business of adventurers who sought to feel as though they were some epic journey, even when their own homes were mere minutes away.

The thief stifled a yawn, stretched his arms out and stepped out through the back door, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Up ahead, within the small grass clearing the grass of the city significantly less tall and healthy as that outside, was Jerin, her long sword held in one paw, thrusting and slashing at a wooden training dummy. This was something that the innkeeper had set up some time ago, knowing that adventurers tended to get antsy without having something to attack for too long. Given that logic, it was better the dummy than the other guests, especially considering the fact that she only charged on checkout, and had no desire for her customers to cheat their way out of their bill by dying throughout the night.

Somehow, to Mathias, she had looked even more beautiful than when they had first met. She leapt and twirled, slashing at the grass, spraying the glistening dew with her blade, stepping in to thrust repeatedly at the imitation mouse, before hopping backwards, twirling about to drive it in sharply behind her. It was difficult to say exactly how effective this style would be in a proper battle, but it did make the young girl look all the more impressive. This was hardly a small feat, either, considering how impressive the young thief had considered her to be, in general.

She quickened her breath from the exertion, pressing the tip of her blade into the soil, resting against it. Her white fur was covered in the faintest droplets of the morning dew, shimmering in the light like tiny diamonds. The young mouse finally realized that she was no longer alone, turning to him, still panting a bit, smiling warmly. For neither the first time, nor the last since he'd met her, his heart melted.

Think of something witty to say, he thought. "Uh... hey." he said instead. Not great, but that could have been far worse, he supposed.

"Hey." she said, walking up to him, her yarn tail dragging behind her, steadily catching her breath. "Just thought I'd practice a bit. Trying to get used to fighting with this sword one handed, so I can use my shield as well."

"That must be tough." he said, managing to break away from staring into those gorgeous eyes of hers to look down at the long metal blade.

"Yeah, it is. It's so long, sometimes it feels like the edge of it and the handle are two completely different weapons, but I'm getting used to it. At first I had to really struggle with it to get it to move how I wanted it to, but now it's starting to feel natural."

"It's a very impressive weapon." Mathias said, reaching down to give it the lightest touch with a finger before quickly withdrawing, as though any contact with it were a sort of blasphemy. Were this the case, Jerin certainly hadn't noticed.

She lifted the blade, holding it horizontally across both paws, tilting it to catch the faint rays of sunlight which streamed in through the overhead. "It really is. Aaron doesn't seem to think it has any magic to it, and maybe he's right. It doesn't shoot lightning bolts, or let the holder fly or anything, but I don't think it needs to. Maybe it is just a really nice piece of metal, but it's strange. Whenever I touch it, even look at it, I feel like I can do anything." she closed her eyes and smiled once more, shaking her head. "I guess that must sound pretty silly."

"No. Not even a little bit." Mathias said, barely stopping himself from adding that he had felt the exact same way whenever he looked at her. "It's nice to see you smiling again."

"Yeah, I guess I just needed to get back in the city. That was a whole lot to take in, all at once, but I'll be okay next time." she looked back up to him. "I really need to thank you. Not just you, but Rowan too, and even my brother, I guess. Even though this isn't your problem, and you've got no stakes in this battle, you're willing to risk everything to help me." she paused, tilting her head to one side. "Why is that?"

"It's no risk at all. If I were to die right now, right at this moment, I'd die grateful that I had the chance to meet you." he said, internally unable to believe that those words actually came out of his mouth.

"Heh, you're so weird." She giggled, giving him a quick punch to the arm.

He sighed in relief. That could have been terribly awkward, even though he had meant every word.

"Yeah. He is." Aaron said, coldly, looking to the thief from the doorway, who nervously smiled and shrugged his shoulders in return. "You're looking pretty good with that sword." he added, expression warming somewhat as he turned to his sister.

"Yup! Bet if we had a rematch, I'd beat you easy!" she grinned.

"Heh, not sure I'd go that far." he said, returning the smile. He was rather relieved as well. His sister just wasn't herself since she left the city gates yesterday, and seemed to grow more distant, more burdened as the trip went on. It wasn't entirely unexpected, the weight, the urgency of the journey catching up to her, the realization that this wasn't some game, it was a dangerous matter with their lives on the line. It should have been reassuring to see her taking things more seriously, but it was considerably more so see her back to normal. Maybe not entirely normal. She seemed different, stronger somehow, and not simply in the way she handled the blade. She seemed more determined, and not in the childish dismissive way where she had previously assumed that everything would work out, just because. She seemed to really believe it now, and looking at her, it was almost hard to disagree. Almost, but not quite. Aaron had many months of experience at being disagreeable, after all. He was pretty much an expert on the matter, and due to his natural talents and rigorous training, was on the fast track to becoming a master.

"Ah, it would seem I am late for the meeting. I wish someone had awoken me earlier." Rowan said, walking out to greet the other three.

"It's still early, and I figured you could use some more rest." Mathias said.

"I will have all the time in the world to rest soon enough." he chuckled before turning to Jerin with a saddened expression. "I must apologize, young lass. I hoped that the prophet might be able to guide us, but it would appear that I was mistaken. I wished to believe that there was some little way that I could contribute, and not simply be a burden, but it would seem that I was unable."

Jerin looked downright shocked at these words, quickly hopping over to him, taking his frail hand. "Are you kidding me? You've been a huge help! We wouldn't have even been able to even try if it weren't for you, and you've got all those great stories, and your magic... and maybe that dumb dark lord didn't say much useful, and maybe the trip was kind of hard, but it still helped in the end, I think! You've contributed more than your fair share." she turned to the others. "You all have, and I'm going to as well. Long ago, when this journey first started..."

"You mean yesterday?" Aaron said.

She rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah. Anyways, when this first started off, maybe I didn't think through just how hard it would be. This may take some time, but that doesn't mean we should just give up. Nothing's changed. We still have a mission to complete."

Mathias nodded. "I'm with you, and ready to see this through to the end." he paused, "So, any idea on what the next step should be?"

Jerin blinked.

"That is a bit of a problem. We don't really have any leads, or else anything to go on." Aaron said, "That prophet... thing. It didn't say where Midnight was, but did it say anything that might be useful?" he asked, a little hesitant to bring it up, as he suspected her encounter wasn't a particularly pleasant one. Similarly, even if slightly more in favor than he had been the previous day, he still remained less than eager to confront the terrible beast.

"He said we would find the dark lord's lair on our own..." Jerin said.

"That's great!" Mathias smiled.

"...but he didn't say when or how."

The group fell silent.

"Well, if it's going to happen, that's good news, right? Maybe we should just wait until it does?" the thief said.

"What, you mean just go home and sit around until somehow we figure it out? That doesn't sound very satisfying." Jerin said, "Plus, I don't think it works like that. It's supposed to be something that we do that makes us learn this information, so it won't work if we don't do anything."

Another long silence.

"Maybe we should just do some more general adventuring? You know, help people in need, get rewards, explore ancient ruins? Maybe we could even find more relics and items which can help us in the coming battle." Mathias said.

"Ooh, that's a great idea!" Jerin beamed, before frowning once again. "How do we start with that?"

"I've heard tales of a hidden crypt filled with treasure, and haunted by an ancient and vengeful spirit." Rowan interjected.

"Really? Grave robbing? That doesn't sound very heroic." The older brother said.

"It's not grave robbing, it's exploring! It's expected! You don't bury yourself with a bunch of treasure unless you want someone to go find it!" Jerin replied with an annoyed frown.

"How is that different? Besides, you won't know whether or not a tomb is full of treasure until you've already defiled the grave!" Aaron said, "Also, I think people bury themselves with their wealth specifically because they don't want anyone else to have it."

"Well, that just makes them jerks! And if the crypt wasn't some huge maze full of traps and monsters and stuff, we would just leave without disturbing anything. Okay, okay, maybe some people just don't like their families and stuff, and want to hide the wealth, a few tombs might be like that, but usually they want people to rob them." the girl said.

"What? Why?"

"It's a way to set a legacy even after you're died! Not only does it give a chance for future heroes to go on exciting quests, it lets you be a part of the adventure, and a part of the stories told about it long after you're gone. I'm sure it's a lot of work, but if you can afford it, it's practically your duty to be buried in some cavern full of trap doors and lava and stuff." Jerin said with a knowing nod.

"And you wouldn't be worried about all these traps killing these future heroes?"

Mathias shrugged. "Seems pretty economic to me. They're already in a grave. Saves someone else the trouble of having to bury them."

Jerin paused in thought before shaking her head. "No, no, that's true, that would be a problem. Hmmm, maybe non-lethal traps, like nets that fall on their heads or something? Although it needs to be a little bit dangerous, or it won't make for a very exciting quest. Bards aren't going to sing stories about it, if it's too easy..." she paused once again, trying to work through the puzzle in her mind before finally giving up on it. "Well, I guess that's why funeral homes are such a complicated business. Lots of variables to consider."

"Anyways, I vote that we don't plunder some loved ones burial site, and steal or destroy their property." Aaron said. "I know I wouldn't want that to happen to my grave."

Meanwhile...

The ancient lich looked down at the golden chalice grasped within its cold, bony fingers. Any day now, it thought to itself.

An lifetime of planning had lead to this day. Really, the lifetime was just the beginning of her efforts. A cunning labyrinth filled with hidden passages, complex riddles, monstrous horrors both natural and eldritch, and, of course, precious treasures beyond the wildest dreams of any mouse. This was the legacy of the Underqueen. So much digging, general logistics, carved sculptures and gargoyles to give it that haunted ruin look, and last, but not least, channeling the magical energies required to grant herself life, even if not youth, eternal. Even the 'life' aspect was questionable, when one considered her fleshless state, but that was really just a matter of semantics .

Everything was finally perfect. There was only one little problem: She had really expected a group of adventurers to show up by now. The dungeon entrance was not in plain sight, of course, but cunningly hidden, the sort of thing one could never dream of stumbling upon. Still, she had arranged no shortage of clues requiring knowledge of ancient scripts, complex mathematics and a sharp mind, both logical and creative to decipher, and once reached, only the bravest, strongest and most cunning of heroes could even hope to navigate their way through.

Anyone who reached the queens chambers would surely be worthy opponent. Perhaps she had made it a little too challenging, though? No, of course not. She was an artist, and if she were to compromise her artistic vision, what would be the point of any of this? Her family and friends had deemed her mad, devoting her entire life to this project, but she'd show them! Well, she actually wouldn't, seeing as how they were all long dead (and not the sort of dead where one can wander around and make sure the cobwebs were arranged just right). Still, it was all going to pay off, of that she was certain. Any day now.

There was a faint clatter in the distance.

"Hello? Is someone there?" the skull said, excitedly, immediately cursing herself for making an unintimidating first impression upon her foes. This proved not to be a concern, however. One of the candle holding sconces had fallen from the wall, knocked off by a tiny skittering creature, which was clearly no adventurer. She sighed, rising to her feet to replace it, going through her rounds once more to make sure that the many torches were still alight, the carved runes in the walls guiding the way weren't faded beyond recognition, and that the assorted fiends were all fed, before slumping back into her great throne of bones, and practicing the monologue she had planned for when the brave and mighty champions would finally arrive.

Any day now.

Mathias blinked. "Um... did anyone else see that?" he asked.

Jerin simply rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, exploring the crypt is out. Anyone have any other ideas?"

The group once more fell silent.

"I am hardly an expert, but I believe adventurers typically visit local taverns when they are in search of quests." Rowan said.

"Huh, now that you mention it, the dark lord did say something about that." Jerin looked to her brother. "It said that you should go have a drink."

"Why did it single me out? I've hardly ever been there!" Aaron replied, visibly flushed. That was not entirely true, of course. While he didn't make a habit of it, he did visit the establishment more times than he would care to admit. This didn't say much, considering that the amount of times he would have liked to admit to was zero.

It was not the sort of place that citizens wanted to be seen in, but even though few mice would admit to ever going there, it was still a remarkably profitable business, and not due to a few loyal and deep pocketed customers.

"I can not imagine that anyone at such an establishment would know of the location of the dark lord, Midnight, however." Rowan said, after a moment of thought.

"Maybe it's one of those first step things. We go there and do something, which leads to something else, which somehow results in us finding the lair." Jerin said.

"So, we're definitely going to find Midnight's lair... but that only happens if we go to the tavern." Mathias hmmmed. "So, what happens if we don't go to the tavern?"

"Ugh, don't even get started on that." The girl shook her head. "Anyways, let's just go. I'm pretty thirsty, and would like to get something to drink, myself."

"No. You really wouldn't." Aaron replied with a deep sigh.

It is important to note that mice were well aware of the existence of alcohol, and enjoyed it very much. What they weren't aware of, however, was the process of making it, which was rather strange considering its relative simplicity. This caused a bit of a problem, seeing as how containers of it tended to be both well protected and far too large to move, leaving their only option for obtaining it being stumbling onto stale beer or wine in the bottom of a broken bottle or discarded can. At least that was the case until they had come up with an alternative.

That strangely colored water which dripped down constantly from above, which was filled with dirt, rust and oddly colored chemicals? It turned out that drinking it had a similar effect to intoxication, at least if one were willing to multiply most of the negative aspects of it by a hundred, and the enjoyable ones by zero. While it didn't prove entirely popular, it did have its market, namely among young people determined to demonstrate their strength by being able to keep the foul tasting liquid down (a market which proved so strong that the tavern started releasing an improved version of the drink which was very much the same, but had a few added ingredients to make it somehow even less healthy, and taste even worse). Beyond that, the liquid was very good for helping you to escape your problems for a few hours, affecting short term memory, even if it tended to create a whole host of new ones.

Most of the trek was spent with Aaron trying to explain what exactly it was that the tavern had sold to his sister, all the while insisting that she not drink (or even touch) anything there, while simultaneously trying to sound as inexperienced with the place as possible.

To call the business a building was a bit of an overstatement. It was indeed built, there was no denying that, but hardly more than half-way. It had only two walls, both lined with assorted signs and containers, and lacked any sort of roof, instead having a series of funnels and pipes which gathered the dripping liquid from varying points above. The structure had originally had full walls and a door and everything, but after a few drinks the patrons found doors, or even just doorways to be a nearly insurmountable obstacle, and thus they were removed. Nobody really missed them, particularly not the owners of the establishment, who found it much easier to remove 'intoxicated' customers by simply rolling them outside.

"Ah, Aaron! Good to see you! Come for your usual?" An overly cheerful waitress asked, whose voice was just a little too high for the constantly headached customers to comfortably endure. This was, of course the intention. She was pretty enough to draw them in, but after a few drinks, they were quick to leave, before they could cause too much trouble (or, if they were to cause trouble, at least they would cause it somewhere else). This worked well on the lest restful customers. As for the others, well, they didn't prove to be much of a problem.

"Um, no. I don't know what you're talking about" the large mouse said, looking away awkwardly. Mathias snickered.

"Oh, of course. You're here on official guard business, right?" She asked, noticing the hammer across his back. "It's about time they sent someone. You'd better go talk to mom."

The group passed by a number of tables on the way to the main bar, the whole place being oddly noisy. This wasn't entirely uncommon, as a lot of groups which come in start of this way, even if they rarely finish so enthusiastically. After a few drinks, even the hardiest of mice ended up with their heads on the table, too dizzy and sleepy to move.

By all objective standards, the bartender, despite the few extra months under her belt, physically resembled her daughter in almost every way. That said, body language and general atmosphere can be a very powerful thing. As much as she might have shared a face and body with the sprightly and energetic waitress, she gave off an impatient and intimidating aura, never smiling, which made even the most confident of mice shrink from her gaze. She held a plastic bowl up to a steadily dripping pipe, waiting for the bowl to fill to the rim before tilting it at an angle to let the lighter bits of sediment flow out. Finally, she handed it off to a haggard looking customer.

"About time you got here. Those hooligans have been here for hours. They should be on the floor by now, hell, maybe even the grave for how much they've had, but they, or more accurately, he, just keeps getting louder and louder. This is a tavern! People are trying to sleep! You've got to get rid of them!" she growled, pointing over to a distant table, which presumably housed a group of patrons, even if the others were invisible behind the broad, brown furred bare back of a mouse who regularly pounded on the table and laughed loudly at nothing in particular.

"Ooh, this sounds like a quest! What do we get if we do it?" Jerin asked.

"Huh? Nothing. He's a guard. That's his job." the barkeep said.

"Hmmm." Jerin said, turning to the group. "What do you think? Sure, it's a good deed, but we can probably do better. I'm sure we could at least get a few healing potions out of helping someone else."

"Uh, this isn't optional. It's his job."

Jerin hand-waved to the bar, but essentially ignored the woman.

"I'm technically off-duty, but we are already here. Plus, if we help out the owners, they might be more willing to help us." Her brother said, to which the younger sibling nodded. "We just need to make sure to handle this delicately..."

Of course it was already far too late for that. Jerin was already at the table before he had even finished the sentence.

"Hey, you! You've got to go home! You're scaring the other customers!" she said in an assertive voice. The other customers looked away. It was true, they were kind of scared, but they still didn't appreciate having it shouted out loud like that. They still had their pride, after all. Sort of.

"Uh?" the large mouse said, half-turning. "Go home, gurl. We're busy 'ere." before turning back.

Jerin drew her sword, holding it outright in both hands, the edge point just above the mans large, almost square shoulder.

"Maybe you didn't hear me." she said. "It's time to go."

The huge mouse let out an annoyed grunt, but didn't even half-turn this time.

"Now, now, Theos, there's no need to be rude. Clearly, this little one has business with us, which deserves our fullest attention." the voice of one of the other mice at the table said with a faint chuckle. A somewhat familiar voice.

"You!" Jerin growled, narrowing her eyes at him.

Aside from the large, boisterous and strangely square mouse, there were three others sitting at the table. One was a thin woman, dressed in an open black hooded cloak, gloves, and thigh high boots, which really weren't all that high. Mice simply don't have the longest of legs. A dark, transparent veil covered the lower portion of her face as she looked to the young swordswoman with cold, indifferent eyes. At the other side was a grizzled looking man with tattered ears, wearing greasy dark tunic which was cris-crossed with straps and buckles, holding knives and cleavers of varying materials. Nearly every bit of his light grey fur was covered in scars, no one of which was severely disfiguring, but as a whole left his entire face a mesh of lines and bald patches. Between them was a small man in red clothing and the twisted, unnatural smile of the white mask facing her, the one purple eye looking out through it, his head turned to the side in a crude effort to conceal his severe facial scar.

The large mouse raised an eyebrow to Samuel. "Yuh know this brat?"

"He tried to steal my sword!" Jerin angrily replied.

"Ya did?" he said, still looking to the mouse at the center, disapprovingly.

"I had my reasons." the red clothed mouse responded.

Theos, the large mouse shrugged. "Good enough fer me."

"Perhaps we should be leaving." the shrouded woman said in a sultry tone. "There is much work to be done."

"Yeah," the grizzled mouse spat. "This place is depressing me, anyways."

"Really? Yer gonna go jus' cause some little kid says so? How's 'at gonna look?" Theos said, shaking his head. "We leave when we're good n' ready, n' I ain't either yet."

"I think you should listen to your friends. Leave, before we make you leave." Aaron said in his trained authoritative tone, something that every skilled guard picked up, and usually proved quite effective for getting citizens out of the way.

"What about him?" Jerin asked, pointing to the white masked mouse. "We can't just let him go!"

"One thing at a time." Aaron said. In truth, he did intend to simply let the mouse go, since he couldn't really implicate Samuel in any crimes, at least not without also implicating himself and his sister as well. For the record, he would have felt bad about it, though. Even aside from that, as a guard, he had relatively few options. He could maybe beat the mouse up and toss him out the front gate, but there would be nothing to stop the red-garbed man from returning. Aaron would be stuck repeating this every time he saw the mouse, which sounded like an awful lot of work. For far from the first time, he really wished that the city had a more effective method of dealing with criminals. As for what that method would be, however, he had no idea.

'Well, now thing're gettin' interestin'..." the large mouse fully turned towards Aaron, ignoring the presence of the long metal sword right next to his face, smiling to reveal a set of pointed and yellowed teeth, more than a few of which were visibly broken. "Yuh look like ya could put up a good fight."

"You don't want to find out." The brother said with a growl.

"Hey, don't you ignore me!" Jerin shouted. "I'm the leader here! I'm the one you need to listen to!"

In spite of her objections, It didn't quite work out that way. The man rose to his feet, pushing the wooden stool which barely supported his weight out behind him, and swatted the sword away with the back of his hand, as though it were a fly, nearly forcing the startled girl drop it. He was not only wide, but tall, closer to twice Jerin's height than matching it, even putting Aaron, who was generally seen as quite large by mouse standards, to shame. He didn't wear any real clothing, just a ragged belt which held a few personal items, and some filthy cloth wraps bound about his hands and feet. Aside from those, he was completely naked, only thing close to decorations being the light blue runic tattoos which covered his entire body. Nudity, of course, was not some major taboo among mice. The only shame involved with being seen naked was in being unfashionable, which for most mice, was more than enough.

"Seriously? We're doing this again? Why can't we just go?" the woman in black grumbled in an annoyed, hushed tone.

"A waste of our time. Not even worth the effort." the battle scarred mouse grunted in agreement.

"I don't know. I think it could prove quite... profitable." Samuel smiled, living up to his namesake, eye all the while on Jerin, more specifically her sword. That was when he noticed the other two party members standing behind the young girl, both making a point to stay out of the way. Once he had noticed the elderly sorcerer, however, his smile immediately devolved into a scowl, at least the portion of his face which could still move did. "You..."

"You know this old guy, too? Wut you been gettin' up to while I wasn't lookin'?" Theos asked and shook his head. "Anyways, you two're outvoted. We'll settle this my way. I could use a lil workout anyways." he said, cracking his knuckles. None of his companions objected to the outvoted comment, even though it had appeared to be two for and two against.

"Hey, no fighting in the bar!" The owner of the business called to them. "Take it to the designated fighting area, out back!"

"Yeah, yeah..." Theos said, very much aware of the business policy,, slamming a pile of dried flakes of food down on the table. "You 'eard the lady. We can 'ead off soon. Doubt this'll take long."

The other three rose to their feet as well, following behind the large mouse, passing by the adventuring group.

"Are we getting into a bar fight?" Mathias asked. "I've never been in one before." Hardly surprising, considering that he had never been to a bar before, either.

"Apparently so. It's not too bad. Non-lethal force, no biting or eye gouging, worst case will come out of it with a bruised body and ego." Aaron said, looking to both his allies, none of which looked to be particularly physically formidable, Rowan in particular. "Hmmm, then again, maybe this isn't such a good idea."

"I can assure you, young man, that I am no stranger to fisticuffs!" Rowan said proudly, punching the empty air, quite slowly with his extremely frail arms. It was true, however. It was not the least bit uncommon for fist-fights to break out in the lower levels of the university, but due to the lack of collective body strength and general stamina of the more fanatic students, they usually ended quickly and without injury.

"That jerk... and that-that other jerk! I'm going to stab the shit out of those guys!" Jerin fumed.

"No stabbing! Let's just do this, and hopefully we can get back on track." Aaron groaned.

The group gave him a collective nod as they stepped around the wooden wall. The designated fighting area was actually quite nice, being a common attraction of the business. While it was true that the brew sold at the tavern was good for relaxing the body and especially slowing the mind, that could take a while to happen, and while it did, it caused a lot of headaches and general irritability. After a few drinks, most patrons were in no condition to fight, but many didn't need a few drinks to require someone, or something to take out their frustrations upon.

The entire surface of the floor was softly padded, which was good for safety, even if bad for cleanliness, covered in all manner of stains which one was better off not even trying to identify, a tall fence to offer some measure of privacy, and even a small refreshments counter, which offered nice clear water (well, clear by the standards of the city. One could still barely see through to the bottom of the container through the murk), and some free snacks, in the form of dried food flakes (the sort which were used primarily for eating, rather than currency, although it could be difficult to tell the difference at first glance).

The large mouse, Theos, had his arms raised in a boxing pose, punching the empty air to his side, a considerably stronger demonstration of the pugilistic arts than Rowan had offered before, and chuckled at the group approached.

"Heh, good, was 'fraid you'd run away..." he said, and then frowned, looking at his opponents. "Ser'sly? A couple little kids and old man? That's yer backup?"

"I'm not that little..." Mathias grumbled. Even if rather young, his height was average for a mouse. Still, average is rarely considered good enough to those of average height, and even if he did stand taller than Jerin, the presence of her brother always did make him feel a little insecure in regards to his stature.

"They're tougher than they look." Aaron said, even if he was not entirely convinced that that was the case.

All the while, Rowan and Samuel were both glaring at one another, intently.

"You've sure fallen far. The 'great wizard' following some kid around." Samuel said in a way that may have been intended to be a taunt, but he couldn't even come close to hiding the sheer malice behind the words.

"She may be young, but she has a strong heart, which is more than I can say for the likes of you." The old mouse replied.

"You don't know the meaning of strength, shutting yourself away in that worthless dark pit of a school. To think there was a time that I actually respected you, admired you, but now? I've outgrown you. I actually applied my skills, and experimented with them on my own. Your magic cannot even hope to compare with mine."

"You are very much mistaken, young man." Rowan frowned. "Magic is not some muscle which can simply be flexed, exerted and improved through anything but time and diligence. It is something greater than us, greater than all of us, not something which we can simply bend to our will in order to serve our own selfish whims."

"Another lecture. Who do you think you're kidding? You know, I thought this had started off as a pretty bad day, but now I'll be able to kill you along with that brat you're following."

"You will find." Rowan said in a calm, commanding voice, tiny bolts of electricity dancing between his bald, outstretched fingers, "That I will not die so easily. I have not survived this long simply to fall to an upstart magician who holds no respect for the power that he wields!"

"Let's settle this, then, and show the world who the real master is." Samuel said with a smirk.

"Very well. First, I have but one question." Rowan said, pausing, pressing a knuckle under his chin. "Have we met before? You are implying a certain familiarity with me, but I cannot quite place you."

Samuel scoffed, chuckling to himself, but his laughter stopped once he saw the deadpan expression of the elderly mouse.

"What? Are you serious? I was your apprentice for months!"

Rowan's face lit up, "Oh, Jerimiah! It is so good to see you after all this time. My, you have lost a lot of weight! I cannot say that I approve of this whole villainous turn, but nonetheless, good for you!"

"What the? No! I'm not Jerimiah, that worthless overblown sack of skin! He couldn't even recite a proper incantation without stuttering!"

"Yes, he was not the most talented, but he was always a hard worker." Rowan chuckled in remembrance, nodding.

"A hard worker? He hardly worked at anything beyond stuffing his face, and cleaning up the artifacts that he clumsily broke." The mouse in red snarled. "I'm Samuel! You used to tell me I was the most gifted magician you had ever seen! Then, one day, after dealing with your backwards, traditionalist ways for so long, we fought, and I left the school forever, studying and training on my own, gathering every scrap of magical knowledge that I could obtain, waiting for the day when I would return to show you just how foolish you and your ideals truly were!"

"Hmmm. are you certain?" The elderly mouse furrowed his brow. "That does not sound familiar..."

"Ugh, nothing has changed! You never cease to find new ways to infuriate!" the mouse in red glared. "I'm going to seriously enjoy this."

"Umm, look, I get it, you two have got a history, but can we focus here?" Jerin asked, turning towards the large mouse. "Okay, how do we do this? Do we pair off or what?"

"Whut? No, no, this ain't a dance, it'sa free fer all!" The large mouse replied.

"Um..." the veiled woman said, looking away.

"Whut? Whut is it?"

"It's not that important, it's just that..."

"Come'on, spit it out."

She paused for a little while, struggling to come up with a delicate method of expressing her concern. "Maybe we should split up. When you fight in a group you kind of... sometimes... tend to... attack your allies." she said.

"Huh? No, I don't do that... right guys?" Theos said, grinning his broken toothed grin, a smile which faded once he saw his other two comrades awkwardly look away. "Re'lly? Why din'cha say nothin' before?"

"Well, it's an awkward thing to bring up. You just kind of go berserk and lose control." the scarred mouse replied. Samuel nodded in agreement, his ire towards his old master momentarily forgotten, self preservation being the more immediate concern.

Theos shook his head and cracked his knuckles once again. "Okay, fine, whatever, we'll do the sissy ballroom thing, I just want somethin' to punch."

"Heh, looks like you're the leader, huh? Guess that means you're my opponent." Jerin said, trying to crack her knuckles as well, but they didn't make a sound.

"I'm not fightin' some little girl!" the large mouse blinked, looking down at her.

"The hell you're not!"

"I'll take him." Aaron said.

"But I'm the leader of the group!" she whined to him.

"I know, but it's just not a good matchup, trust me."

"Ugh, fine. I guess I'll take on Smirk." she huffed, looking to the red garbed figure, who just a moment ago had looked quite amused by the prospect, but now his expression, as little as could be seen and capable changing, had darkened significantly.

"That's not my name." he said with a low growl. His three allies winced a bit upon hearing the nickname, apparently having had experience with it before.

Aaron frowned. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Well, I have to fight someone, and if it's not the leader, it at least has to be the guy we've met before, rather than one of the henchmen!"

"We have names, you know." the grizzled mouse murmured in a disappointed tone. The woman nodded in agreement, arms folded, clearly annoyed.

"I'm Sorry! It's not my fault that we haven't been formally introduced!" she said, looking guiltily towards them before turning back to Aaron. "Besides, I've got to get him back for what he did at the general store, and maybe find out what exactly he's after!" she paused, smiling to him. "Don't worry. You said yourself that he's not that tough. I'm going to defeat the dark lord, remember? This guy won't be a problem."

Her brother gave her a little smile. "Yeah, you're probably right... just... be careful, okay?"

"Aren't I always?" she grinned back. As for Smirk, the mouse in red, he cast one more aggravated glance to Rowan before smiling wide and nodding to Jerin. This will do nicely, he thought to himself.

"Okay, now that that's settled, I'll take the one with the bow. He looks like he's got a bit of fight in him. Maybe." the scarred mouse said to the shrouded woman. "You take the other one."

"Why do I have to fight the old man?" She growled to him.

"Someone has to!"

"You should not judge by appearances, young lady. I can assure you, I am far stronger than I appear. One could make similar judgments of yourself, but I trust you would not be here if you could not hold your own." Rowan said. She still looked a little annoyed, but offered a small nod in agreement. "Pardon me, good sir, is magic allowed in this melee?" he called to Theos.

"Course! Everythin's allowed. What's it with mice these days, tryin' to complicate everything with rules? A fight's a fight." the large mouse said.

"No biting or eye gouging, though, right?" Aaron asked.

"Well, yeah, tha's a given."

Aaron nodded in agreement at first before taking in the implications. "Wait, so weapons are allowed?" He said, looking over to Samuel, the mouse in red.

"Yeah, but don' worry, they aren't goin' ta hurt your friends too much," he said, glaring at Samuel, to reaffirm that fact. The smaller mouse nodded in response, but smiled all the while, "...and I 'xpect you to use that hammer too, if you wanna stand a chance."

The brother looked to Jerin with a concerned glance, but she simply smiled back, shield strapped to her wrist, sword drawn, clearly eager to fight. Maybe it was for the best, considering that Jerin was unlikely to be skilled when it came to unarmed combat, but he was less than confident that her opponent had intended to follow the 'no killing' rule. Well, he would just need to finish his own fight quickly, to keep an eye on her. That way he could jump in if things started to look bad.

The four groups spread out, mostly motivated by Theos' allies desire to give the huge mouse as much space as possible, with Jerin and her own party members simply following suit.

Rowan gave one more confused look to Samuel before shaking his head, turning to his opponent, the nervous looking young woman.

"I may have... slightly overstated my fighting skills." she said, looking more than a little bit embarrassed.

Rowan simply nodded in understanding. "I as well. Sadly, my magic is not well suited to close-quarters combat."

"I've never liked fighting anyways, but he always seems to lead us into battles." the shrouded woman smiled over at Theos, who was now focused entirely on Aaron.

"Why follow him if he leads you down a path that you do not wish to travel?"

"I'm sure at first glance, he looks like some dumb meat-head... and hey, I guess he is. He's bull headed, violent, never listens, and is a complete and utter fool." she shook her head and chuckled. "...but he's our fool, and we've got to look out for him, even if it's tough to guide him in the right directions."

"I understand completely what it is like to be drawn to a lost cause, to someone who shows no particular experience nor ability, yet somehow you believe in them, nonetheless. Perhaps that is the difference between a guardian and a leader. A guardian is someone who you rely on for strength, protection and guidance. A leader is someone who you wish to be strong for, to protect, and to guide." Rowan said.

The two both nodded in agreement, looking one another in the eyes.

"I may not always approve of where Theos leads us, but that doesn't mean that I'll ever stop following. I might not like fighting, but that doesn't mean that I can afford to lose. I need to be strong, for him and my friends. You seem like a good man, but I'm stronger than you, and am afraid I'll have to demonstrate it. Don't worry, though. I promise that this will be quick."

Rowan chuckled. "I have no intention of losing either. I might not be physically strong, but I will not be a burden to the little lass. There are, after all, more types of strength than physical force."

The woman looked to Rowan, with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "My name is Myriandas, The Divider... and I never said anything about strength of body. I was talking about strength of will."

Rowan narrowed his eyes. The entire aura of the woman changed in an instant, no longer nervous and uncertain, now brimming with a confident determination. This could be a problem.

---

Mathias and the scarred mouse circled one another. The thief wasn't particularly confident. Much like Rowan, he was far more specialized in long ranged combat. While he did have some degree of experience with his knife, it was clearly dwarfed by that of the man before him, who appeared to have fought, been wounded in and survived countless battles.

"You call that a knife?" the scarred mouse taunted, looking at the plastic dagger that Mathias held. "That's not fit to cut up my dinner, and you hold it like a baby with a rattle. You'd better to run back to your play-pen, and leave us grown-ups to handle the fighting."

"Um..."

"What's that? Got nothing to say? Maybe you can't swing a punch with those little noodle arms of yours, but at least you got a working tongue, right? Or haven't you had time do use that mouth of yours for anything but suckling at your mothers teat?"

"Uhh..." Mathias replied, if that could honestly be considered a reply.

"Really? Can't fight, can't talk, probably can't even bleed properly, but don't worry, I'll be sure to give you lots of experience with it." the man smiled, sliding a large jagged glass cleaver from a strap across his chest, gripping the handle tightly in a scarred hand. "Johanas the Chopper. Don't worry, boy, I won't cut anything off of you. Well, nothing too important, anyways."

This wasn't going well. This part, the trash talking part was supposed to be the easy one for Mathias, but he was just drawing a blank, and the more that he tried, the more he froze up under pressure. Morale plays a strong role in any battle, and he was seriously counting on holding that advantage, even if he didn't necessarily have the edge in combat skill. He had to say something, anything, but there was just nothing there. This could be a problem.

---

Aaron gave a half-hearted sweep of his hammer towards the large mouse. It really wasn't an ideal weapon for use in non-lethal combat, and not the sort of thing you could easily pull your punches with. He didn't have much of a choice, though. He had absolutely no intention of crippling or killing this strange mouse over such a petty dispute.

Theos effortlessly backstepped out of range of the strike.

"Come on! Put a lil' heart into it. I know yer better'n this!"

"I'm not comfortable fighting an unarmed man." Aaron grumbled.

The large mouse laughed heartily. "Unarmed? I got my weapons o' choice right here!" he looked down at his balled fists, giving a kick to the empty air with a short leg. "As far's I'm concerned, I got four weapons. Five if ya count head buttin', n I don't see why ya wouldn't, n' you only got one. You don' need't hold back with that hammer. I'm sturdier'n I look." he said, which said a lot, considering he clearly looked to be very sturdy.

No matter how sturdy he was, it seemed unlikely that he could take a direct hit from the hammer, however. If he was careful with it, Aaron thought, and hits in the right place, he might have been able to just cause a lot of bruising, maybe break a bone at worst. Not the sort of thing he would like to do, but the man was literally asking for it, and he didn't look like a slouch, either. This wasn't the sort of opponent that Aaron could expect to defeat without trying, and he needed to finish this quickly in order to back up his sister. He briefly considered simply tossing the hammer aside and going hand-to-hand, but suspected that would be a very bad idea, seeing as how this large mouse clearly had much, much more experience in bare fisted combat.

Theos looked a little annoyed, and decided to give his opponent just a bit more motivation. He rushed in, quicker than a man of his size had any right to move, striking with a flurry of punches. Aaron was caught by surprise, shifting the shaft of his hammer to block the light blows, when the man drew his fist back, and with considerably more force struck straight at Aaron's jaw.

He managed to block the punch, but unlike the other strikes he had effortlessly cast aside, even with the block, he felt the intense force behind it, pushed back two steps, foot skidding on the ground to brace himself. He looked down, surprised to see the narrow crack visible in the thick wood. It didn't run all the way through the handle, and wasn't enough to weaken it in the slightest. Still, it was a strong material, and the man's fist had appeared to be completely undamaged.

"Theos Facepuncher. Tha's my name." the large mouse said, giving his fingers a quick wriggle before balling them back into an oversized fist.

"Aaron."

"Aaron what?" he asked.

"Just Aaron."

"Nah, nah, tha's no good. Gotta get yerself a title! Somethin' people'll remember." the large mouse said, shaking his head.

"What, like 'face puncher'?"

"It ain't eloquent," Theos shrugged, "...But it gets tha message across."

"What message? That you like punching people in the face?"

The large mouse hmmmed. "Ta be honest, I really prefer body shots. Bigger target an all that. Don't need'ta aim as much. Yuh get a nickname though, and it just kinda sticks."

In truth, such nicknames were rarely given to ones self, and instead by others. Traditionally, it was villains who named themselves, seeing as how they had no real peers, instead either minions or rivals, neither of which one wanted to be named by. Names are, indeed, a serious business, however, and could make the difference between appearing larger than life or significantly smaller when chosen improperly.

"I don't need some fancy name to look strong. I can manage that on my own."

Theos smiled wide, showing his cracked yellow teeth. "I sure hope so. Fer your sake."

It was clear even at first glance that the man was very strong, but Aaron was really counting on having the speed advantage. The strength difference was far from insurmountable, but the unarmed fighter managed to get in close and break his guard with virtually no effort. This could be a serious problem.

---

Jerin wasted no time, rushing towards the red garbed mouse, thrusting straight at him, but as before, he easily sidestepped the attack and tried to counter. This time, however, the young mouse didn't let him come in close, backpedaling, giving a strong sweep of her blade in case he tried to follow, holding up the long sword in a ready stance.

"You can't hide behind that bodyguard of yours this time." Samuel said with a smug tone. "Tell you what: Just hand the sword over to me, and I'll send you home with just a spanking, and all your body parts intact."

"He's not a bodyguard, he's my brother! And there's no way I'm handing it over to someone like you!" she said, looking to the wooden blade of her opponent. "Heh, you've got a pretty nice sword yourself. Not as shiny as mine, but I'll bet it was expensive. The least you could do is offer a trade."

The masked mouse looked down at his wooden rapier. "Yeah, that would be the reasonable demand, wouldn't it? Unfortunately, this sword has some... sentimental value." he paused. "Wait, that guy is your brother? You don't look anything alike!"

"Lots of people look the same, and that doesn't mean they're related!" Jerin huffed, this being far from the first time someone had pointed that out to her. "Why should it mean that anyone who looks different isn't?"

Jerin, of course, still held to the belief that she was, at the very least, adopted. She just happened to also believe Aaron was still a blood relative, apparently being adopted as well. Maybe. She held the adamant view that not only was she of some unique and particularly heroic origin, but Aaron was still her brother, in every sense, even if his origins were somehow less heroic than her own. This may sound incredibly implausible, but Jerin had a special talent for coming up with ideas and then convincing herself that they were true, all without needing to walk through the petty details like "how" or "why".

"It's not like you'd actually trade even if I offered, right? So what would be the point?" Samuel said with a teasing grin.

"I was just seeing if you could even pretend to not be a jerk. Can't say I'm too surprised." Jerin grinned back.

"What can I say? I don't respect your opinion nearly enough to lie to you. I don't need to negotiate, either. Last time we met, you barely escaped with your life."

"That was a long time ago! I've gotten way stronger since then!" she said.

The man simply looked confused. "It was yesterday."

In Jerin's defense, when you've only been alive for four months, a single day can seem like a considerably longer period of time. She didn't rush in this time, hopping forward, still trying to maintain her distance, striking with a wide flurry of thrusts and slashes, which her opponent similarly easily deflected. He made the occasional well targeted counter, but the girl took advantage of the slightly greater reach of her own sword, giving her just a little extra time to fend them off. Time that she had very much needed, as every one of those strikes were lightning quick and potentially lethal. She couldn't help getting frustrated with her lack of progress, however. She grew impatient, reckless, trying to overwhelm her opponent through sheer speed and number of unfocused strikes. The red clothed mouse wasn't attacking nearly so often, waiting for just the right openings, but eventually he found it. He ducked under a particularly high strike, stepping in close, and drove his long wooden blade straight into the middle of her chest. She barely managed to catch the wooden sword with her shield in time.

The metal shield may have kept her from being skewered, but her arm wasn't all that strong, and the girl still had to endure the force behind the strike, which was nearly enough to knock her off of her feet. She was sent stumbling back, barely recovering in time to restore her guard.

With somewhat similar weapons, it was no surprise that their combat styles were similar as well. As Samuel smiled wide, the unscarred side of his face nearly matching the damaged one, his one purple eye peering excitedly through the hole of his white mask, he returned with his own series of lightning quick strikes. They weren't quite as fast as Jerin's were, but demonstrated a clear difference in experience. Where she had largely struck wildly, hardly aiming at all, simply trying to overwhelm her opponent with pure speed, he was aiming directly at her vitals, anywhere that her sword and shield were not. Were it not for her shield, were she forced to guard herself with blade alone, she might very well have been in serious trouble. Even now, with the shield in hand, it was taking everything she had just to maintain her defense.

Jerin decided to go for broke, leaping backwards, crouching, and rushing in low to slash at him. She had managed to position the small point of the blade well enough, but it was a slow and highly telegraphed strike, giving the experienced fighter more than enough time to leap over it. The attack may not have landed, but it did put her in behind the red clothed swordsman, giving her a chance to swing her long blade down hard at his exposed shoulder. Instead, he stepped into the strike, catching it with no real trouble. Her eyes went wide as she leapt back several paces, not guarding against anything specific, but instinctively sensing an attack coming. None came, but the girl found herself overwhelmed by the idea that had she remained there just a fraction of a second longer, she would have died from a single, lethal thrust. Her new position offered no real advantage, but at the very least it created a little distance between the two and allowed her to catch her breath.

"Wait a minute. You can use magic, can't you? How come you're just fighting with a sword?" she asked.

The man scoffed. "You're not worth using it on."

"Heh, yeah, right. You're just afraid to, right? Afraid that I'll see just how much weaker yours is compared to Rowan's?"

"Oh, please. That old fool is clearly nothing special if he's following around the likes of you." Samuel sneered.

"Must be real frustrating, huh." Jerin said.

"What must be?"

"You know," She said with a sly smile. "The fact that he's willing to risk his life for a stranger who he just met yesterday, but you weren't even important enough to remember at all. That's got to sting. I guess he meant a lot more to you, than you did to him. I can't say I blame him."

Half of Samuel's face still held the wide smile, but the other half was glaring with pure hatred. "I'm going to enjoy killing you." he said, wriggling the fingers of his free hand, which he had yet to use in the fight. "You wish to see a little magic before you die, do you? I Can't say you deserve it, but, I'm a generous soul. Consider this your final request."

Jerin was about to complain that he had already used that line. Not that there was any inherent contradiction to be found in enjoying killing two different individuals, but still, it felt a little bit uncreative. Instead, she raised her sword and shield, prepared for the worst. She imagined torrents of fire, maybe she would be frozen in place and shattered, maybe it would simply be blades of dark energy which would tear through her. One would think that she would be frightened by the prospect, but instead she was excited to see it, not for a moment considering that any one of those options would surely be fatal. Those were the sorts of trivial worries that she didn't see worth wasting time on.

When he thrusted his open palm out towards her, however, what followed wasn't lightning or heat or abyssal power, it was simply wind. Not a hurricane force, but still a moderately strong breeze, enough to make her fur flow a bit, but certainly not enough to injure or even make it difficult for the mouse to remain upright.

"Huh? Is that it?" she asked, head-tilted, not teasing, but rather genuinely disappointed. Her opponent smiled once again, however.

"Magical abilities are quite limited in power. As a result, one must use them creatively."

He swung his arm to his left, towards the loose soil at the end of the padded floor, the dirt spiraling upwards into a sort of miniature tornado. That was when he swept his arm back in the direction of the surprised girl. The torrent of wind took the along earth with it. It didn't fling boulders or deadly sharp shards of stone, nothing lethal or damaging to the body at all, simply a thick cloud of dust. A pain to get out of the fur, and far more so to get out of the eyes.

She covered her face with her shielded forearm, and even though she couldn't see, she knew full well what was coming. She barely opened a watery eye in time to see the wooden blade striking through the dust cloud. She backpedaled, both trying to get away from the strikes and the blowing dirt, but neither worked, both following her doggedly, the thrusts coming just a little bit quicker than she could react until she found herself barely holding on.

"You should have handed the blade over when you had the chance." Samuel growled at her, each attack striving for a lethal blow.

She leapt back a step out of the cloud, not enough to buy her any real time as she knew both it and her opponent would follow soon enough., but it did give her room to shift the blade in her paw, draw it back and throw it at him like a javelin. This certainly caught him by surprise, and would have been quite painful had it struck him, but of course it didn't. With a long wind up, it was effortless to step aside, and watch it embed itself into the ground behind him. Jerin wasted no time, however. She rushed straight for him, leaping through the unnatural dust storm, her eyes on his sword all the while. He drove it straight towards her stomach, but she had anticipated that, hopping up, raising a foot, and stomping down on the tip of the blade, pushing it the the floor. Its owner stumbled forward with her weight, her now free hand going for his face.

Samuel had assumed that she was going for the same manner of take down that he had used on her in the general store, a poor technique he only bothered to utilize because he was showing off, and the girl had left herself so wide open back then with her amateurish attacks. It was even less effective when the opponent had a size advantage (albeit, not a significant one). She didn't go for his face, however, she went for his mask. It was worn on one side of his face, the one eye hole specifically set so he could look through it in that position. With a quick twist, she shifted it to the center of his face, where one would normally expect such a mask to fit, with the one eye hole now placed over top his scarred and useless one.

This was not a significant hurdle, not requiring long to fix, of course, maybe two seconds at most, during which time Jerin leapt behind him, rolled, pulled her sword from the earth, and dove back towards her opponent. Even momentarily blinded, he knew what to expect: She had tried this last time she'd gotten behind him, a wide slash, probably from above, but in truth it hardly mattered. His own wooden sword was similar, essentially a pole with a point at the end, and the range for making a proper slashing attack was terribly limited. Step into it, and it was rendered ineffective. At it's core, these were thrusting weapons, but he knew that even in leaping behind him, she couldn't have gained enough distance to properly draw back and effectively stab with her blade.

It came as quite a surprise to him when he did just that, regaining his vision just in time to see the metal sheen right in front of his eye. She wasn't intending to use the tip to slash, she was simply swinging the entire thing like a club. While one could easily argue this wasn't the best use of such a weapon, in this situation, it proved remarkably effective, with the fact that her opponent had willingly leaned into the strike certainly not helping him.

---

Aaron had intended to both finish this fight quickly, and to keep an eye on his sister. He wasn't succeeding at either. He had felt a similar frustration to what Jerin had experienced, unable to control the pace of the fight, only magnified dramatically. Hammers were not the best weapon for a quick opponent. This was no surprise, and Aaron knew it already. They might finish things quickly when they land, and even move quickly due to their weight, but getting them moving was another matter entirely. Every time he tried to swing with it, by this point far too annoyed to worry about shattering something vital on the other mouse, his opponent was already somewhere else, all the while keeping up their assault.

"Yer pretty good." Theos said, in an annoyingly content voice.

"Yeah, yeah..." Aaron replied, doing his best to block another series of lightning quick punches, only stepping back when he absolutely had to, which proved to be far more often than he would have liked.

"Hey, I'm serious! Yuh managed to hold me off pretty good with that big weapon so far. Yuh just need'ta relax a bit."

"Relax?" Aaron said.

"Yeah! This is wha' life's all about! Thrill'a battle, pushin yerself to the limit. Don't get any better 'n this."

An annoyed grunt in response.

"Yer just no fun at all. Kinda wish I did fight that little squirt o'yers instead. I'll bet she'd appreciate it."

Aaron glowered, shoving the stone head of the hammer forwards, pushing Theos back a bit. He let it fall with a heavy clang, using the handle as a sort of springboard to jump up, and swing the blunt weapon down in a savage arc, smashing the ground to pieces where the larger mouse had stood just an instant before.

"Don't you touch my sister!" he growled.

Theos sighed. "See? This is whas I'm talkin' about. I'm just sayin' she looks like she 'preciates a good fight, and you gotta get all intense n' make it sound creepy. You can't fight well if yer all tense n' angry. Seems like yer init to win, though. Show me what'cha got." he said, chuckling, waving a paw towards himself, urging Aaron to strike.

The brother took a deep breath, and tried to calm himself. This wasn't working. This wasn't an opponent that he could simply overpower and overwhelm. He raised the hammer once more, and went for a strike. It was a slow and predictable one, as was to be expected from anyone lacking supernatural strength and using such a weapon, and of course Theos easily saw it coming, ducking in the other way. The larger mouse couldn't really be faulted for failing to recognize the feint. as It takes a lot of effort to get such a large hammer moving, and stopping it in mid-strike is even harder, since simply swinging it slowly would make it obvious that it was never meant to be a dangerous blow. It clearly caught Theos by surprise when the lower portion of the wooden handle came up, right in the direction he was weaving, catching the unarmed mouse straight in the jaw with a solid crack.

Aaron was briefly worried that the strong blow might have seriously injured the man, then disappointed when it failed to even knock him from his feet.

"Heh, that's the spirit!" Theos said, adjusting his jaw, which was no less square than the rest of his body, with an audible crick. "You startin' to relax a bit? 'njoy yerself?"

"Of course not." Aaron grumbled. This wasn't entirely true. He was not exactly overcome with the thrill of battle, but he did get a flush of satisfaction from landing that hit, and a certain subtle eagerness to do it again.

"Ah, I get it. Yer one of those 'eroes, aren't ya?"

"Huh?"

"Yeah, yeah, tha's it. Too busy fightin' for things tha seem 'mportant, tha it jus' becomes a job."

"I'm not a hero..." Aaron said, eyes lowered.

"Sure ya are. I kin see it in yer eyes. This ain't some fun way to test yer strength n' blow off steam, it's real important. Yer the good guy, and I'm the bad one, and ya gotta beat me ta triumph o'er evil." the larger mouse chuckled. "Now, I don't think I'm particularly evil, but I'll let it slide jus' this once. Don' get me wrong, I want ya to try and win, but this? This don't matter. Win r' lose, nobody's dying, so jus' have fun with it."

"You sure that friend of yours, Smirk, feels the same way?"

"Oh, him? He's kinda' twist'd, but he won' go against my orders. If he does, he'll regret it n' he knows it." the large mouse looked to each side before whispering to Aaron. "Seriously though, don' call 'm that. Get's 'm seriously pissed off, 'n not inna fun way." he returned to his usual boisterous tone. "Anyways, if yer worried, you know what'ta do. Jus' gotta get through me. Person'lly, I'd rather laugh and 'ave fun with it, but some folks just ain't wired that way, I guess. You do what'ya gotta do."

Contrary to those words, he didn't wait for Aaron to do anything, instead immediately rushing in with a series of quick jabs. Aaron tried to use the hammer more defensively, even though it was not well suited to that, but this method did work to a certain extent. Rather than simply blocking or deflecting the blows, he stuck the wood into an oncoming fist, which while it didn't cause serious injury, he couldn't help but notice the force of the punches from that arm diminishing significantly. He swung the hammer as well, not in a wide, difficult to control arc, but with his hand right below the head of it, offering quick, low-range sweeps. No longer aided by gravity, the blows offered nowhere near the force that the weapon was capable of, but it became far more maneuverable.

He was also growing more confident. He wasn't able to land even close to a decisive blow, but was no longer on the run, either, even managing to drive the larger opponent mouse back, the pair dancing in a spiral. Theos continued making regular punches, but found himself more cautious knowing full well that even with the diminished force, if he took a direct blow from the head of that hammer, it was going to seriously hurt.

"Good, yet gettin' better already! That's what it'sall about, cuttin' loose and gettin' the feel fer the fight." Theos chuckled between punches. "Just one lil' problem, though."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Aaron said, unable to resist smiling a little as well.

"Yer style's a bit too predictable. Ya favor yer right side. Injured shoulder, I guess?" he said, looking to the wooden pauldron.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." Aaron replied nervously.

"Sure ya do. It's right... here!" The large mouse said, drawing his arm back, punching with all of his strength.

Aaron reflexively tried to guard his old wound, which was to be expected. That's exactly why Theos had aimed his punch at the opposite shoulder. Generally, as a rule, the shoulder doesn't make for that great of a punching target. In this case, however, the blow wasn't meant to cause real damage, it was simply meant to throw the smaller mouse off balance, and it served that purpose quite effectively. The blows intended to cause real damage came immediately after, fast and furious.

Aaron did try to guard himself, and had his opponent had been just a tiny bit slower and a little less dogged, it would have worked quite well. Instead, he found that every effort to block came just an instant too late, which left him open somewhere else, and then somewhere else. Each blow to the body wasn't too severe, but they did hurt, and were completely relentless, striking absolutely everywhere at once, aside, of course, for the spots that he had uselessly struggled to protect.

Guarding wasn't working, so all that he could do was attack, drawing the hammer back, and swinging it low and hard at Theos' short legs, tearing up a chunk of the padded surface as he swept it in a powerful arc in front of him. Unfortunately, Theos' legs weren't there anymore, they were off of the ground, and Aaron was able to look up just in time to see the mid-air spinning kick catch him in the side of his face.

He was sent tumbling, his hammer landing with a hard clank next to the unexpectedly agile Theos who landed on his feet with surprising grace.

"Yuh did pretty good..." he said to the prone and dizzy mouse.

"Hey." a voice behind Theos.

"...Next time, yuh might e'en be able to win..."

"Hey."

"...but i's time tuh finish this, I think..."

"Hey!"

"What, what is it, what'da ya want!" The heavyset brawler growled, unable to ignore the constant interruptions any longer, turning to the small mouse behind him.

"Um... I won my fight." Jerin said.

"Yes, it would seem that my battle has come to and end as well." Rowan, standing in behind her said.

"Uh, me too... I guess." Mathias said as well.

"Huh?" Theos said, looking dumbfounded.

"So, how exactly does this work? You look like you're done here... is there a points system? Or do we all have to fight you now?" Jerin asked, genuinely curious before perking up, "Ooh, is this like an elimination tournament?" she continued, excitedly, "I always wanted to be in a tournament arc! It does feel a little lopsided, though..."

"Wait, they all lost?" Theos asked.

"Yup!" Jerin nodded.

"Indeed. She put up a strong fight, however." Rowan agreed.

"Sort of..." Mathias said, sheepishly.

"Unbelievable..." Theos grumbled, tossing up his hands. "I swear, I gotta do everythin' round here."

"Does that mean we win?" Jerin asked, head tilted to one side.

"Huh? Oh, uh, sure, whatever." Theos said, walking away. "Guess I gotta go home now. Shame. Could use a'nother drink. Well, what're ya gonna do." he added,"Take care'o yerself, 'n don't feel bad 'bout losin'. Happens t' all of us, sometimes." waving a hand to Aaron, who was still trying, and failing to get back up onto his feet.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jerin asked, hopping over to her brother who was rubbing his aching jaw with a paw.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." he said, waiting just a moment for the world to stop spinning. "Uh,. how much of that did you see?" he asked her.

"Not a whole lot. did anything happen before you got punched a bunch of times, and then kicked in the head?" she asked with her trademark head-tilt..

A part of him wanted to point out the nuances of the battle, and how he was doing okay for a while there. In the end, though, he decided that it just wasn't worth the effort. He shook his head. "No, not really."

"He looked pretty tough." she said, helping him stand upright, although helping was a bit of an overstatement. If he was going to fall back down, she would have surely gone right down with him. "You were right. Good thing I didn't fight him."

Aaron listened for any sign of a gloating or a patronizing tone in her voice, and found himself surprised not to hear the slightest hint of it. So far as he could tell, she genuinely meant it.

"If you did, I'm sure you would have thought of something, and managed somehow." he said to her with a soft chuckle. She gave a warm smile back, relieved that he was okay. He was okay, but hardly more than okay. The many, many places that he was struck all pulsed with a dull ache, with his ego faring no better. He looked to Rowan with a surprised expression, seeing as how not only did the old man seem unfit to do battle with a light breeze, he didn't appear the least bit worse for wear. Mathias looked to be in similar stellar condition.

"You won your fight?" He asked.

"Indeed. And I can assure you, victory did not come easily. It began with her argument for why victory was most important to her. A simple modus ponens format, well structured, and not completely without merit. in fact, the untrained ear might have thought it unbreakable, but I, with my years of research, knew better..." the old man, said proudly.

"Ummm..." Jerin said.

"...the small cracks in her argument grew upon confrontation and analysis, the fallacies growing more apparent by the moment as she was driven into a corner... appealing to authority, furthered by straw-man reasoning, even leading to ad hominem attacks... can you imagine? Both an appeal to authority and an ad hominem within the same argument? Absurd! Had I not been so arrogant, I might have realized that it was just a little bit too absurd..."

"Ummm..."

"I misjudged her due to her youth, and fell into the obvious response, what I thought was a series of flawless premises, leading to an airtight conclusion. I was all but ready to declare quod erat demonstrandum, and that's when it happened: With a few scant words, she reduced my carefully planned argument to an absurdity. Exactly as she had planned all along!"

"Uhhh..."

"From there, things were looking grim. I foolishly thought that allowing her speak first early on would give me more ammunition to work with, but instead, she had built upon that momentum, shattering every point I would make with merciless precision! Clearly, she was moving in for the kill, with her side of the debate gaining strength with each and every word I tried to speak opposing it. That was when it happened. Ex falso quodlibet."

"Are you just making up words?" Jerin asked, head tilted even further than usual.

"It was her turn to be overconfident, to make a mistake, and what a mistake it was! With a few scant words, not only did she create a hole in her argument, it only took a little careful maneuvering to demonstrate that based on her own reasoning, clouds were made of stone! She, of course did not believe this, but due to a seemingly minor miscalculation, found herself in a position where she no choice but to defend this ridiculous argument, or at the very least shape it into into something reasonable, lest she give up all progress she had made thus far, and need to begin from scratch. It was an impossible task, but I must say, she tried her damndest. Even I had found myself nodding along in agreement with some of her more valiant efforts"

"Ummm..."

"That wasn't nearly enough, however. That only proved that her current argument was flawed, which at best reduced us to a neutral state. It was finally my turn to shine, and if I may brag a little, shine I very much did. Argumentum a fortiori, straight from argumentum a contrario..." he chuckled softly, "Why, I had gotten so caught up in my argumentums, I nearly made an argumentum ad populum! Can you imagine?" he chuckled.

"No. I really can't" Mathias said. Although he liked to consider himself quite worldly, in spite of his youth, he found himself just as lost as Jerin was.

"At last had come the moment of truth. In no way do I wish to diminish the woman's logical skills, but at that instant, I was truly unstoppable, and was ready to unleash my final premise: the one which, following all those stated before, would lead to the one absolute conclusion, that even someone as cunning as her could not hope to deny..."

"What exactly was that premise?" Mathias asked, still not giving up on making sense out of all of this. Aaron just smacked the thief on back of the head, glaring at him with an annoyed expression, terrified that the old man might actually answer that question, dragging this ridiculous explanation out even further.

"That was when it happened: She pointed over my shoulder and cried out 'look out behind you!', and I, of course, turned to see what was here. Imagine my shock when it was revealed to be nothing at al! Once I looked back, she had fled into the night-or, into the morning, As it were. Truly a devious opponent. I fear I have not seen the last of her."

"Yeah, that's just great." Aaron groaned, rubbing between his eyes, trying to fight off a whole new headache strong enough to made him nostalgic for the earlier pain of simply being kicked in the face. "How about you? You didn't exactly sound confident when you declared your victory earlier." he asked Mathias.

"Uh, right. About that..." He said, looking rather embarrassed.

Aaron sighed. "Don't tell me you didn't actually fight either..."

"I meant to!" Mathias replied. "I was raring to go! Sure, he looked tough... really, really tough, but I was ready to do whatever I needed to for the honor of lady Jerin." he said, smiling to her. She didn't notice, busy asking Rowan what most of the words he had used meant, and from there what the words used to explain the previous words meant, and from there asking if clouds actually were made of stone.

"Anyways," the thief continued, clearing his throat. "We were ready to begin the most important part of any battle: The trash talking phase. He was getting some good digs in, and me, well, I just couldn't think of anything at all. My mind was a complete blank! It just got worse from there, too. He was downright mean, and things were getting really personal! This was supposed to be my strong suit, the thing I'm best at, but I just had nothing! If I couldn't even hurt the guys feelings, how on earth was I supposed to injure someone who's clearly survived countless battles?" he sighed. Aaron didn't quite follow the logic of how hurting ones feelings meant you could actually hurt their body, but was in no mood to argue that point. "I had to say something," Mathias continued further, "But what? Just standing there silently was getting awkward for both of us, so I figured absolutely anything would be better than nothing so..."

Jerin looked back to Mathias, having given up on Rowan's explanation. "What did you say?" she asked.

"I told him that his mother wears army boots." the thief said, dejectedly.

The other three stared at him in silence, waiting for him to offer a clarification or continuation. Neither came.

"Why did you say that?" Jerin asked.

"I don't know!"

"Is that even an insult?"

"I said I don't know! It was awful, but that wasn't the worst part: The worst part was when he started crying." Mathias said, shaking his head. "...and I don't mean a couple tears out of the corner of his eye, I mean full on sobbing and blubbering."

"You didn't hit him when his guard was down like that, did you?" Aaron asked, eyes narrowed. Thieves were known for fighting dirty, after all.

"Of course not! That's when he ran off, bawling his eyes out."

"Huh, you know, the guy you fought..." Jerin said.

"Johanas the Chopper, apparently..."

She nodded. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. He looked kind of familiar. Sort of like that old lady who's friends with my mom."

"Huh? Who are you talking about?" Aaron asked. His eyes went wide as he was suddenly hit with the realization. "Oh. Her."

"What? What is it?" Mathias asked.

"She was a nice lady. Always in good spirits, generous, kind, and um... she also just happened to, sort of... get her legs bitten off in an attack from a dark lord a long time ago." Jerin said, hesitantly.

Mathias just stared blankly. "What the? Are you serious?"

"You know, it's not nice to make fun of the handicapped. I thought you were a better person than that." Jerin sighed, shaking her head in disappointment.

"I had no idea! There must be some way I can apologize!" Mathias said, sounding almost panicked.

"Well, I'm not sure she's his mom, but they sure do look the same. Scars and everything!" Jerin replied, plainly.

Mathias looked downtrodden, turning to Aaron for support, hoping that the older mouse would have his back. The older sibling did not, of course. Not because he thought that the thief was in the wrong, it was just because after his own recent defeat, it was nice to see the thief taken down a peg.

"Really? Am I the only one who had an actual battle?" Aaron asked.

"I did! Although I'm not sure I'd call it a battle. He was a total wimp." Jerin beamed, proudly.

Aaron smiled back. "I'm just glad you're okay." he said, looking down. "Um... what are you wearing?"

"Oh, these? Look pretty sharp, don't they?" she said, sliding out a leg, showing the finely tailored black and red pants. "They're really comfortable, too! Until now, I always thought pants were kind of pointless, but I can totally see the appeal!"

Aaron rubbed his eyes again, yet another headache coming on, this time it was a big one. "You can't just kill someone and steal their clothes." he said.

"Well, good thing I didn't kill him, then!"

"That doesn't make it better!"

"Sure it does! I can't see how it would make it worse." Jerin said, her eyes still focused on the fine tailoring, and surprised by how well they fit despite her somewhat smaller stature compared to their original owner. "Besides, he made it perfectly clear that if he knocked me out he was going to steal my sword."

Aaron had considered pointing out how it's unlikely Samuel had intended to simply 'knock her out', but decided against it. It didn't really go against her argument, after all. "Just because he was going to do it, doesn't mean it's alright for you to!"

"I know! A sword, especially my sword, is worth way, way more than a pair of pants, but I settled since unlike him, I'm a good guy. I could have just as easily taken his sword... it was pretty nice, and I always wanted to try dual wielding, or even his top, but I figured pants were the least important part, but still enough to make him think twice before messing with me again."

"Ooh, did you happen to take his mask, too?" Mathias asked.

"No, I didn't even think to." Jerin said, sounding a little disappointed. "Why? Did you want it?"

The thief shrugged. "I thought it looked kind of cool. I could see myself wearing it."

"Aww, I'm sorry! I'll be sure to get it next time!" she said to him, smiling wide.

"Great! I appreciate it!"

"Oh, by the way, thanks for the help earlier!" Jerin said to the elderly mouse. "I think it really threw that guy off when you pretended to not remember him. It made things a lot easier for me."

"Hmmm?" Rowan asked, looking to her with a confused expression.

"Um, you know... your former apprentice? The one who attacked me and Aaron? The one you talked about yesterday?"

The response was a similar blank stare.

"Uh, nevermind."

Aaron considered continuing to argue his case, but decided that it wasn't worth it. It was hard to argue that the man wearing slightly less red now didn't deserve it. Still, he hoped that she wouldn't make a habit out of this. The group returned to the tavern, which was really only a few lengths away, triumphant. Sadly, the quest giver wasn't so enthusiastic, and the rest of the clientele were even less so, apparently not appreciating the depths of the struggle the heroes (well, some of them, anyways) had engaged in. The closest thing to a reward that they received was a polite nod from the bartender, which, in fairness, was not the sort of thing she offered lightly.

The four were just about to leave, even if they weren't entirely certain of where they were leaving to, when a nervous looking old mouse raised his head from the bar, eyeing the girls sword. "Wait," he said. "Is your name... Jerin? The one looking for the dark lord?"

"Um... Yeah?" She answered, looking to him skeptically.

"I-I think I can help you." Riccard said, pulling out a roll of paper, and unraveling it atop the bar. It was a scale model map of the nearby shrines, with the mouse city, of course, at the center. Upon one of the shrines, across the flats, a good ways away, was a solid red mark.