∼ Hot Pursuit ∼
Chapter - 033
Drawing up on Guard's Crossing, the mysterious caravan was met by a host of armored guards. Center-front, stood the captain himself. With the exhales of black steeds and the groan of carriages, the procession came to a halt. A moment passed between the caravan of nearly a hundred men fitted to the bone in gear and the dozen heavily armored guardsmen.
The captain took in the four figures and their black stallions, the hard man straight away recognizing the competence of the man in charge of this caravan. Of hair as dark as his clothing, handsome but rough features, he was on the younger side of his years - yet he held himself with the poise and confidence of an expert.
The captain did not need the stranger to speak. He already knew what this man was. Dark, grey eyes, the color of charcoal, and moody skies. He was a man of the north. Born of iron.
To his right was a cloaked figure, the dark cloth hiding any semblance underneath except a single gleam of steel. To the left, a broad and tall man in chainmail, thick and studded leather armor from head to toe, a claymore at his back, and dark cowl shrouding his face. As intimidating as they were, it was the last figure that truly caught the captain's attention.
A poor wretch of an old man, covered in angry red lines of fresh wounds. Cuts and bruises lined his bare and pale body that was dirtier than a mutt. But most of all was his lips and cheeks that had been savaged as if someone had taken a letter opener to his mouth. It was truly a pitying sight.
Taking a step forward, the captain announced himself. "Ser Faemore, Captain of the Guards."
The tall black-haired man atop his steed took him in for a moment before speaking. "A knight as the head of a guardship? How noble..." Despite his words, clear mockery lay within.
However, Faemore did not even flinch at it, remaining as stoic as a rock.
He waited, but the stranger didn't offer his name.
Fixing the wretch with a look, the captain moved to catch his attention.
"Sir, are you traveling along by your own free will?" Faemore asked.
Slow and jaded, the man seemed to take a few moments to properly register the guard captain. Recognition registering in those dull green eyes, the old man looked to the black-haired man, a clear question in those pleading eyes.
In response, the mysterious man just nodded encouragingly, a sickly smile on his handsome face now.
"I-I..." The wretch spoke in little more than a mewling moan, showing a mouth lacking teeth and savaged gums.
"Come on old sport, tell the gent," The black-haired man insisted, almost proudly.
"Yes..." He wheezed faintly.
Fist clenching around the haft of his sheathed sword, the captain fixed the stranger with a glare. "Papers... sir,"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Ah - no need for papers. " Fingering a strap, the stranger threw a pouch of coins at the captain. But it did little more than clink as it bounced dully off the knight's polished armor, the stoic man not even moving to grab it.
Looking at the pouch on the ground, a couple of golden and silver coins spilling out into the mud, the smile on the mysterious man's face vanished. "A knight with morals too... to trouble yerself as so, just - wearisome." He tsked, kicking his horse into a steady gait.
Strolling past the knight without as much as another glance, as did the caravan, the guards could only throw pensive glances between them and their captain. Yet, he did not move to halt the procession again.
Faemore wasn't a fool. He knew these people were trouble, of the dangerous kind, and even if he tried, it would be him and his men face down in the dirt. If this man had the confidence he had to bribe an official in broad daylight and then outright disrespect his authority, it could only mean he had deep ties. In that of an underground, so shady and deeply-festered that a lesser knight such as himself could only hope to avoid.
As the throng of black-clothed men passed, Faemore caught only the hint of what the stranger said next, a chill running down his spine as the venom in his voice was enough to even freeze the knight.
"Find them."
In an alley, wedged in between tents, a wild-eyed Aria was trying to shake some sense into the stricken Eric that sat with his back against a wooden support. "Eric! Listen to me! I am sorry, but we have to go - now!" She had grabbed by the vest, panic in her voice as she tugged at the unresponsive lad.
Unlike his usually spirited but guarded self, after seeing the state of his father, something had snapped within him. This was the first time she had seen the strong and dependable Eric like this, and it had almost frightened her more than the fact that their pursuers were right on their heels.
From where she had pulled him in, she could already see the black figures spreading out to scour the tents and stalls. Already regretting what she had to do, she drew back and smacked Eric right across the face with a loud slap. To be honest, it had probably hurt her more than it had him from just how much it stung her fine hands, but it worked.
He suddenly came out of it, shocked more so by what Aria just had done than anything. "Eric... please..." She pleaded, near tears.
Aria did not need to say anything else, as he finally got his shit together. Springing to his feet, his gaze surveyed the surroundings, catching sight of their pursuers. Without much more than a moment's hesitation, Aria was yanked along as they ran.
Weaving in and back between tents, they came upon multiple of the black-clothed men combing the tents of scared travelers and merchants, asking them questions of whether or not they've seen a warlock. To Eric and Aria's dismay, it was already a well-known rumor that a demon had been prowling the refuge of Guard's Crossing.
Nearly running directly into a pair of these men as they turned a bend, the mysterious men putting their intimidation on a poor merchant, Eric had to roughly pull himself and Aria in behind an empty stall.
"Hmm?" One of the men frowned. "What?" The other piped up, throwing the merchant to the ground by his collar. A moment passed before the sound of footsteps approached the stall. "I think I..." One of the voices muttered, but the other cut him off.
"No time for you to think, we have to cover the eastern section. Let's get moving." A grunt was the only response.
Hearts in their throats, they both breathed a sigh at the retreating footsteps
But the second they felt relief settle in, a sudden noise stole their ease. In the tent to the stall, a figure stood frozen, treading on sneaky steps but looking to have accidentally knocked something over. It was a ragged man, thin and spindly, looking about as frightened as a mouse. It was most likely the owner of the stall.
Seeing right through the weak-willed man, Eric and Aria could only pleadingly shake their heads; "no".
The instant the merchant lifted one frail finger at them, Eric was already in motion, Aria once again pulled along. "H-here!" He wailed, looking to the two men who were not far away.
"There! Get them!" They shouted, kicking up dirt as they moved faster than anyone Eric had ever seen before. Even the Captain Lewis of Aemsburg wasn't this quick on the draw. As mysterious men ran in rapid tandem with their fleeted-footwork, it became readily clear that not in a million years could Eric outrun them, especially while stringing Aria along.
Ducking into the nearest enclosure, Eric decided to go about this a different way.
As soon as Eric cut line of sight, their pursuers shouted, "Over here!" drawing even more attention.
Up and over fences, tent posts, and dilapidated stalls, Eric finally knew where they were, and with movements as swiftly as Aria could handle, he bobbed and weaved between the enclosed spaces.
It was not easy, but they somehow managed to lose them in the sea of tents. But it was far from over, they were not yet free and safe. From all around, the uproar of people resounded. Everyone was looking for them. They had been made, through and through.
Gasping in heaving breaths, Aria finally got a word in. "W-what about Nyx?"
Momentarily ripped from his scouring of their little hideaway, Eric blinked. "Ah, crap..."
Aria looked at him with those gleaming red eyes. He almost didn't have the heart to say but he had to. "We have to leave him, we can't afford to search for him."
"We cannot just leave-!" Aria tried to protest.
Suddenly bursting through to the enclosure, a group of men came streaming in. Eric was ready to go down fighting. But once he saw who it was, he could only sigh, nerves wracked and heart spiked.
It was Boram, Mike, Dresden, and a handful of his men. The large man still had not fully recovered but was using a crutch to keep himself upright.
"Eric, what the hell is happening."
Eric shared a look with Aria, who tried her best to keep up appearances though she could barely stand upright with how winded she was.
"Remember the trouble we mentioned back when you asked?"
Boram's mouth drew into a right line.
Eric sighed, "This is it," confirming what must've already been on Boram's mind.
Huffing, the bear of a man nodded to himself. "Okay,"
"Okay... what?" Eric echoed.
"We'll get you on the fastest buck we have," He turned to his trusted aide. "Mike, get him saddled, posthaste." Mike turned on his heels and did as said, not missing a beat.
Baffled, Eric wasn't sure what to say, but didn't have to as Boram limped up to him. "You two are riding out. You're not safe here." He loosened a pouch of coin at his hip, sticking it in Eric's hands before he could protest. "Here - it was not what I promised you, but it is all that I have on me."
"But-"
"But what - boy?" Boram interrupted. "There's no time for hearing it, so get your sorry ass out of dodge, and protect your lovely ward." Boram nodded to Aria who was about as stunned as Eric was.
"Come," He said simply, turning to leave the enclosure from where he and his men had come.
Standing still for a handful of moments, Eric and Aria caught up with the man limping away.
"But what about you?" Eric asked. "We're the reason for all this."
"We'll be fine, I've got friends in the city," Boram grunted, shoving away a tent flap and revealing the main camp for their caravan.
Mike stood there, one of Boram's personal horses already saddled and ready. Posthaste indeed.
Eric looked as if he wanted to say more, but Boram beat him to it, whirling around on his one good leg.
"The sooner you two are gone, the safer it is for us both. Understand? It has been a pleasure - lad, but this is where we part ways."
He landed on a firm but gentle hand on Eric's shoulder. "Don't get yourself killed now, and safe travels."
Eric couldn't find the words to say. The kindness this man had shown them both was above and beyond anyone he had ever met before. So he didn't. He heaved Aria up on the dark brown steed, to which he himself got up and took the reins.
As he was about to make the horse gallop away, trouble finally caught up. Nearly a dozen armored men, in dark leather and fitted with weapons drawn, rushed into the camp, cutting off any escape that had once been there.
It was too late, they both realized.
At least, if they surrendered willingly, Boram and his caravan wouldn't be hurt or implicated. Right?
As resolution and acceptance slowly sent in, fate let its voice be spoken.
Or to be more accurate it... cackled?
One particularly red demon came bursting into the camp, its maniacal laughter evaporating the still tension. Around its small neck, a golden pendant hung loosely as it sprinted across the field, right past the stupefied humans. Moments later, the roar of angry men drew close, and following it, was a huge stampede of enraged mercenaries that burst into the camp, bearing brandished weapons and shouting foul curses.
The black-clothed men were caught directly in the middle of the crazed men, and chaos quickly ensued.
As Nyx scaled the startled horse, climbing up onto Aria's shoulder, he made his perch nice and comfortable before holding out his treasured price for Aria to see and marvel at.
After all, he promised that this treasure - would inevitably be his.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Eric took the opportunity laid bare before him. He spared only a second to look at Boram and his men, the whole caravan gathered to see them off.
Eric shared a grateful nod with them, this lone gesture saying much more than his words ever could and they rode off.
∼ Hot Pursuit ∼
Chapter - 033
Drawing up on Guard's Crossing, the mysterious caravan was met by a host of armored guards. Center-front, stood the captain himself. With the exhales of black steeds and the groan of carriages, the procession came to a halt. A moment passed between the caravan of nearly a hundred men fitted to the bone in gear and the dozen heavily armored guardsmen.
The captain took in the four figures and their black stallions, the hard man straight away recognizing the competence of the man in charge of this caravan. Of hair as dark as his clothing, handsome but rough features, he was on the younger side of his years - yet he held himself with the poise and confidence of an expert.
The captain did not need the stranger to speak. He already knew what this man was. Dark, grey eyes, the color of charcoal, and moody skies. He was a man of the north. Born of iron.
To his right was a cloaked figure, the dark cloth hiding any semblance underneath except a single gleam of steel. To the left, a broad and tall man in chainmail, thick and studded leather armor from head to toe, a claymore at his back, and dark cowl shrouding his face. As intimidating as they were, it was the last figure that truly caught the captain's attention.
A poor wretch of an old man, covered in angry red lines of fresh wounds. Cuts and bruises lined his bare and pale body that was dirtier than a mutt. But most of all was his lips and cheeks that had been savaged as if someone had taken a letter opener to his mouth. It was truly a pitying sight.
Taking a step forward, the captain announced himself. "Ser Faemore, Captain of the Guards."
The tall black-haired man atop his steed took him in for a moment before speaking. "A knight as the head of a guardship? How noble..." Despite his words, clear mockery lay within.
However, Faemore did not even flinch at it, remaining as stoic as a rock.
He waited, but the stranger didn't offer his name.
Fixing the wretch with a look, the captain moved to catch his attention.
"Sir, are you traveling along by your own free will?" Faemore asked.
Slow and jaded, the man seemed to take a few moments to properly register the guard captain. Recognition registering in those dull green eyes, the old man looked to the black-haired man, a clear question in those pleading eyes.
In response, the mysterious man just nodded encouragingly, a sickly smile on his handsome face now.
"I-I..." The wretch spoke in little more than a mewling moan, showing a mouth lacking teeth and savaged gums.
"Come on old sport, tell the gent," The black-haired man insisted, almost proudly.
"Yes..." He wheezed faintly.
Fist clenching around the haft of his sheathed sword, the captain fixed the stranger with a glare. "Papers... sir,"
He waved his hand dismissively. "Ah - no need for papers. " Fingering a strap, the stranger threw a pouch of coins at the captain. But it did little more than clink as it bounced dully off the knight's polished armor, the stoic man not even moving to grab it.
Looking at the pouch on the ground, a couple of golden and silver coins spilling out into the mud, the smile on the mysterious man's face vanished. "A knight with morals too... to trouble yerself as so, just - wearisome." He tsked, kicking his horse into a steady gait.
Strolling past the knight without as much as another glance, as did the caravan, the guards could only throw pensive glances between them and their captain. Yet, he did not move to halt the procession again.
Faemore wasn't a fool. He knew these people were trouble, of the dangerous kind, and even if he tried, it would be him and his men face down in the dirt. If this man had the confidence he had to bribe an official in broad daylight and then outright disrespect his authority, it could only mean he had deep ties. In that of an underground, so shady and deeply-festered that a lesser knight such as himself could only hope to avoid.
As the throng of black-clothed men passed, Faemore caught only the hint of what the stranger said next, a chill running down his spine as the venom in his voice was enough to even freeze the knight.
"Find them."
In an alley, wedged in between tents, a wild-eyed Aria was trying to shake some sense into the stricken Eric that sat with his back against a wooden support. "Eric! Listen to me! I am sorry, but we have to go - now!" She had grabbed by the vest, panic in her voice as she tugged at the unresponsive lad.
Unlike his usually spirited but guarded self, after seeing the state of his father, something had snapped within him. This was the first time she had seen the strong and dependable Eric like this, and it had almost frightened her more than the fact that their pursuers were right on their heels.
From where she had pulled him in, she could already see the black figures spreading out to scour the tents and stalls. Already regretting what she had to do, she drew back and smacked Eric right across the face with a loud slap. To be honest, it had probably hurt her more than it had him from just how much it stung her fine hands, but it worked.
He suddenly came out of it, shocked more so by what Aria just had done than anything. "Eric... please..." She pleaded, near tears.
Aria did not need to say anything else, as he finally got his shit together. Springing to his feet, his gaze surveyed the surroundings, catching sight of their pursuers. Without much more than a moment's hesitation, Aria was yanked along as they ran.
Weaving in and back between tents, they came upon multiple of the black-clothed men combing the tents of scared travelers and merchants, asking them questions of whether or not they've seen a warlock. To Eric and Aria's dismay, it was already a well-known rumor that a demon had been prowling the refuge of Guard's Crossing.
Nearly running directly into a pair of these men as they turned a bend, the mysterious men putting their intimidation on a poor merchant, Eric had to roughly pull himself and Aria in behind an empty stall.
"Hmm?" One of the men frowned. "What?" The other piped up, throwing the merchant to the ground by his collar. A moment passed before the sound of footsteps approached the stall. "I think I..." One of the voices muttered, but the other cut him off.
"No time for you to think, we have to cover the eastern section. Let's get moving." A grunt was the only response.
Hearts in their throats, they both breathed a sigh at the retreating footsteps
But the second they felt relief settle in, a sudden noise stole their ease. In the tent to the stall, a figure stood frozen, treading on sneaky steps but looking to have accidentally knocked something over. It was a ragged man, thin and spindly, looking about as frightened as a mouse. It was most likely the owner of the stall.
Seeing right through the weak-willed man, Eric and Aria could only pleadingly shake their heads; "no".
The instant the merchant lifted one frail finger at them, Eric was already in motion, Aria once again pulled along. "H-here!" He wailed, looking to the two men who were not far away.
"There! Get them!" They shouted, kicking up dirt as they moved faster than anyone Eric had ever seen before. Even the Captain Lewis of Aemsburg wasn't this quick on the draw. As mysterious men ran in rapid tandem with their fleeted-footwork, it became readily clear that not in a million years could Eric outrun them, especially while stringing Aria along.
Ducking into the nearest enclosure, Eric decided to go about this a different way.
As soon as Eric cut line of sight, their pursuers shouted, "Over here!" drawing even more attention.
Up and over fences, tent posts, and dilapidated stalls, Eric finally knew where they were, and with movements as swiftly as Aria could handle, he bobbed and weaved between the enclosed spaces.
It was not easy, but they somehow managed to lose them in the sea of tents. But it was far from over, they were not yet free and safe. From all around, the uproar of people resounded. Everyone was looking for them. They had been made, through and through.
Gasping in heaving breaths, Aria finally got a word in. "W-what about Nyx?"
Momentarily ripped from his scouring of their little hideaway, Eric blinked. "Ah, crap..."
Aria looked at him with those gleaming red eyes. He almost didn't have the heart to say but he had to. "We have to leave him, we can't afford to search for him."
"We cannot just leave-!" Aria tried to protest.
Suddenly bursting through to the enclosure, a group of men came streaming in. Eric was ready to go down fighting. But once he saw who it was, he could only sigh, nerves wracked and heart spiked.
It was Boram, Mike, Dresden, and a handful of his men. The large man still had not fully recovered but was using a crutch to keep himself upright.
"Eric, what the hell is happening."
Eric shared a look with Aria, who tried her best to keep up appearances though she could barely stand upright with how winded she was.
"Remember the trouble we mentioned back when you asked?"
Boram's mouth drew into a right line.
Eric sighed, "This is it," confirming what must've already been on Boram's mind.
Huffing, the bear of a man nodded to himself. "Okay,"
"Okay... what?" Eric echoed.
"We'll get you on the fastest buck we have," He turned to his trusted aide. "Mike, get him saddled, posthaste." Mike turned on his heels and did as said, not missing a beat.
Baffled, Eric wasn't sure what to say, but didn't have to as Boram limped up to him. "You two are riding out. You're not safe here." He loosened a pouch of coin at his hip, sticking it in Eric's hands before he could protest. "Here - it was not what I promised you, but it is all that I have on me."
"But-"
"But what - boy?" Boram interrupted. "There's no time for hearing it, so get your sorry ass out of dodge, and protect your lovely ward." Boram nodded to Aria who was about as stunned as Eric was.
"Come," He said simply, turning to leave the enclosure from where he and his men had come.
Standing still for a handful of moments, Eric and Aria caught up with the man limping away.
"But what about you?" Eric asked. "We're the reason for all this."
"We'll be fine, I've got friends in the city," Boram grunted, shoving away a tent flap and revealing the main camp for their caravan.
Mike stood there, one of Boram's personal horses already saddled and ready. Posthaste indeed.
Eric looked as if he wanted to say more, but Boram beat him to it, whirling around on his one good leg.
"The sooner you two are gone, the safer it is for us both. Understand? It has been a pleasure - lad, but this is where we part ways."
He landed on a firm but gentle hand on Eric's shoulder. "Don't get yourself killed now, and safe travels."
Eric couldn't find the words to say. The kindness this man had shown them both was above and beyond anyone he had ever met before. So he didn't. He heaved Aria up on the dark brown steed, to which he himself got up and took the reins.
As he was about to make the horse gallop away, trouble finally caught up. Nearly a dozen armored men, in dark leather and fitted with weapons drawn, rushed into the camp, cutting off any escape that had once been there.
It was too late, they both realized.
At least, if they surrendered willingly, Boram and his caravan wouldn't be hurt or implicated. Right?
As resolution and acceptance slowly sent in, fate let its voice be spoken.
Or to be more accurate it... cackled?
One particularly red demon came bursting into the camp, its maniacal laughter evaporating the still tension. Around its small neck, a golden pendant hung loosely as it sprinted across the field, right past the stupefied humans. Moments later, the roar of angry men drew close, and following it, was a huge stampede of enraged mercenaries that burst into the camp, bearing brandished weapons and shouting foul curses.
The black-clothed men were caught directly in the middle of the crazed men, and chaos quickly ensued.
As Nyx scaled the startled horse, climbing up onto Aria's shoulder, he made his perch nice and comfortable before holding out his treasured price for Aria to see and marvel at.
After all, he promised that this treasure - would inevitably be his.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Eric took the opportunity laid bare before him. He spared only a second to look at Boram and his men, the whole caravan gathered to see them off.
Eric shared a grateful nod with them, this lone gesture saying much more than his words ever could and they rode off.
