“Dangle hope before a beaten foe before you yank it out of their reach once more. That makes their look of despair ever so sweeter.” - Ardin “Face-Peeler” Zakuin, infamous mercenary from Clangeddin, circa 502 VA.

“Where do you think you’re going!?” yelled Erycea as she caught up with the escaping limping man. One of the man’s escorts turned to face her and drew his sword, while the other tried to escape with the man, but Erycea wouldn’t allow it to happen that easily. Instead she struck hard against the blade of the man that turned to face her and pushed him aside as he was surprised by her strength and struck with her other truncheon towards the back of the other escort.

Only a shout from the surprised one saved his friend as he managed to duck in time to avoid getting his throat skewered from the back, even if he ended up having to drop the limping target to do so. The man similarly unsheathed the sword on his waist and turned to face Erycea together with his compatriot, and the two lunged at her with their swords.

They were skilled fighters, and coordinated their attack well. Their swords were well-made, sturdy and durable, that even a full power blow of hers didn’t even bend the blade she struck earlier, but Erycea still didn’t care that much about them. Compared to fighting against her mother, it felt almost like she was bullying these two escorts by fighting them.

Yet with her target so close to her, there was no longer any point in holding back, so she let loose with what tricks she had up her sleeves.

Erycea parried her enemies’ swords with her truncheons, the blades caught between the segments of her weapons as she twisted her wrist and trapped them for a brief moment. At the same time, she brought forth a small handful of glass shards she kept with her and sent them towards the eyes of her two opponents.

Her opponents saw the shards coming and closed their eyes reflexively in response. It was a mistake, but they were damned no matter what they did anyway. Had they kept their eyes open, they would be blinded by the glass shards puncturing their eyeballs, but closing their eyes meant that they let Erycea out of their sight for that brief moment, an opening she naturally took advantage of.

She slid one of the swords so that she could lock it in place better between her weapon’s handguard and its bar, while she pushed the other sword away and struck at the man’s hand with a quick flick of her wrist. The tip of her truncheon struck the man’s fingers and shattered the bones in them, causing him to scream out in pain and drop his sword. That scream was cut short as she then jabbed the sharp tip of her truncheon straight into the man’s open mouth.

When the other man opened his eyes – with shards of glass embedded all over his face – he only saw Erycea’s bloody truncheon, the same one that just ended his compatriot’s life, rush towards his face and then he too, knew no more.

Erycea rushed towards the fallen man with the broken leg who even at that point was still trying to crawl away. The man noticed her coming and tried to grab for his sword, but Erycea would have none of her. She just wordlessly shattered the man’s wrists with strikes from her truncheons before she dragged him back by the back of his collar.

“Target secured! We’re going back! Move, move, move!” she yelled as she passed her companions on the way back. They rapidly disengaged from the enemies they were fighting as they heard her command, and quickly reformed their previous formation, although pointed the other way around. Erycea remained in the middle as it was difficult for her to fight as she was carrying their captive over her shoulders to transport him faster.

The way back was a faster and easier fight than going towards their target, since the enemy formation had yet to properly reform where they had passed. The group reached their fellow platoon mates just shortly before a commotion to the side drew their attention, and soon Ery noticed the source of the commotion, which rather surprised her.

Because the commotion was caused by her parents leading a good part of the forward team towards her direction.

“Mom, Dad!” she yelled out once they were close enough to hear. “What happened?”

There would only be a few reasons for the forward team to divert themselves, and one of those would be if the operation failed and they needed to make a desperate escape. That said, the look on her parents’ faces did not suggest that to be the case, and while they were tense, it was a different sort of tension compared to that of desperation.

“The Marquis of Podovniy fled this way!” yelled Reinhardt back. “Your group should be close to where he tries to skirt around us! Did you see him?”

“The Marquis? Wait… Do you mean this fellow?” asked Ery with some surprise as she had Vlad raise her captive high with one hand. The sight naturally did not go unnoticed by the nearby enemy soldiers, many of which gave cries of surprise, disbelief, and despair at the sight.

Ery also noticed how her father grinned widely at the sight, though.

“That’s the one all right! Good catch, girl!” yelled Reinhardt back with the toothy grin plastered on his face.

He then yelled in the Clangeddin tongue, addressing the enemy soldiers around them. “Drop your weapons and fall on your knees! Your lord has been captured! Further resistance will only cost you your lives and his! Those who surrender will not be killed!”

His shout, coupled with the sight of the Marquis dangling from Vlad’s claw and whimpering in pain, broke the morale of the enemy soldiers and many of them dropped their weapons on the spot. A few tried to keep on resisting, but were either taken down by the mercenaries or even some of their own.

At first it was only those in the vicinity that surrendered, but as the word spread, more and more of the Podovnian army knelt down and surrendered.

The battle was over, and Levain had won.