The Silent Blade

Chapter 2: The Quicker Man (TRISIUS)

The fight had me thinking. I had noticed something; a flaw that no Warden possessed. In fact, no trained fighter had this flaw. Everybody knows to not drop your weapon in battle. I had thought about why he dropped his long sword. Clearly, had hadn't meant to, which struck me as alarming. If he had done that in battle, his head would've been detached from his body in seconds.

"The two that are dueling, switch out with the Conquerer and the Warden." I announced, jerking my thumb at the Warden in detail. The two glanced at me, as if questioning my order. "Must I repeat? SWITCH!" I shouted, mostly to get them moving again. They did so; hurriedly, might I add.  The Warden and Conquerer entered the arena, and I observed this match diligently.

I shouted, "Begin!" And begin they did. The Warden struck first; swinging to the left of the Conquerer, who had used his shield to deflect the blow. He used his mace to strike next, to which the Warden dodged backwards. Range had never been a Conquerer's strong suit, as the mace itself is hardly any longer than my dagger. However, he turned the dodge against the Warden, attempting to shield bash the him. The hit connected, forcing the Warden down to the ground. With a metal CLANG the sword hit the ground.

The Conquerer came at the Warden with his wooden mace, catching him with a blow to the stomach. The Warden had barely enough time to stand up before being forced back onto his hands and knees, sputtering Latin curse words and gasping for the air that had been forced out of him. "Ut malediceret tibi: et satanas, in infirma." He grunted. "Well, aren't you a bad sport?" The Conquerer teased, chuckling a bit as he offered a hand out to help the Warden, who shoved the gesture away with one swipe of his palm. I groaned loudly, which caused the five trainees to glance at me. "Petulans, come. We need to talk." I said, motioning for the troublemaker to follow me. "Bernisi!" I called out, to which a deep feminine voice replied, "WHAT!?"

Bernisi is, similar to me, a Peacekeeper. She's tall and more muscled than most, but small enough and balances strength with mind on the battlegrounds. She may have been one of our best, but sadly, a devestating injury left her unable to do battle. The eyepatch wearing female emerged from her sleeping quarters, a scar running down the left side of her face. A Viking Berserker had gotten the better of her once, and nearly tore off half her face. The injury left her nearly blind in her right eye, and we never found the left.

"What is it you want, Trissy?" She asked, using my pet name. She and few others got away with using my pet name in front of me. It used to be a taunt from the females while I was in training to become a Peacekeeper, but over time (and after proving myself), it just sort of stuck.

"I need you to watch over my battalion for me while I'm gone. It'll only be for a few minutes while I talk some some sense into a particular man." I explained to her, my eyes averting back to the battlefield. The Warden had been furiously swinging and swiping at one of the plaster dummies filled with hay. Bernisi's eyebrow cocked up in suspicion. "You want me to watch something? That'll be the day..." She remarked, laughing aloud to herself. I had never found morbid jokes humorous.

After a moment of explanation, she eventually left me to my deed. I lay my weapons on the table outside my office. They needed to be cleaned, so I had a squire see to them. When I looked back, spotting the Warden in tow, I could see Bernisi already on someone's case. It was a thing for her; if authority had been given to her, she'd assert herself immediately. She didn't necessarily abuse her power--there was a punishment for such a thing--but rather, she made it quite clear that she was in charge.

We walked about a half-mile or so out of the camp. I much enjoyed the scenic walk, but the Warden was grumbling around every turn, his armor clinking in protest as he tried to avoid tripping over a tree root. The sun had been beating down on us recently, as it was our Quarto Temporum--our Fourth Season. This season, it was blazing hot, as it always was during Ignis. We stopped when we came upon a clearing in the low hanging brush, just south of a river, with fish swimming through the clear waters, visible as the sun reflected it's menacing glow onto the translucent liquid.

The Warden removed his helmet, and I finally got a good look at his features. He had a slight stubble growing from his cheeks, and his black hair was glistened with sweat. "You wanted to talk to me, corporal?" He questioned, as though he had not actually traveled with me, but followed me. "Yes, I believe I did. Tell me, what is your name?" I asked first. He remained silent at first, but decided it better he spoke and not let the quiet pervade. "It's Rusef. Rusef Hardok." He replied, bowing his head as a small sign of courtesy towards me, a show of respect. I found myself taking an interest in the man, an inkling of friendship kindled by a mere bow. Actions truly are stronger than words, as they say.

"Rusef, I suppose you know why I called you out here?" I asked the unshaven male towering above me, my stern look covered by my knitted leather hood.

"I'm afraid not, sire." He answered, his face a look of uncertainty. But not timidity. It appeared he cared not about being "deported." If you were deported, you were subsequently stripped of your warrior's status and forced to be a slave fashioning weapons of steel for other warriors. I had the honor of visiting one of the rat infested, dull, harsh, toxic factories and was utterly disgusted with what I found.

But nobody argues with the High 4, our leading council consisting of the four warrior ranks. At the High Conquerer's request and powerful skills of persuasion, the four reached a unanimous vote install such factories. Protests were held, but were mostly small and unorganized. Protesting a direct order from ONE of the High 4 sent you to the iron mines, but when you protest to all of them, it is seen as High Treason, and death soon follows.

The High 4 are not ruthless dictators. None of them wanted to install the crude factories, but our supply is low and would only have gotten lower if nothing was done. In fact, all four of them were STRONGLY against the idea.

"Rusef, I called you out here today to discuss your battle tactics." I explained.
"Battle tactics? What's wrong with them?"
"Nothing in particular with them, but rather, the way you handle your sword."
"My sword?"

"Yes. You see, Rusef, I noticed something. Every time you fall down, you seem to drop your sword. If you see to do that in battle, I fear what may happen to you. Any trained warrior would keep a strong grip on their weapon." I explained, Rusef's face remaining placid the entire time. I thought I saw his mouth move, but no words came out of the pore. Not even a peep. Or maybe he had said something I didn't hear.

"Did you say something?" I asked, and then I noticed the corners of his lips curl up into a smile.

"With all due respect, corporal, I don't need it to defeat my enemies." He said, looking up at me with a scoff. A sneer so hard that a pickax made by the worlds best craftsman could not even penetrate, so dark and cruel that even the most feared warrior may cower. I suddenly felt danger pervade throughout the area, a darkness hanging over us as an inescapable feeling settled in. A feeling of dread.

I tried to play it off, ultimately afraid of what would happen. "Look, Rusef, if you're still sour about the duel earlier today, I'm sorry." I said, taking a step back. Only then did I notice the rushing water of the pond behind me, its sound alerting me to its presence. My back to it, and with Rusef in front of me, I realized I had become surrounded.

"I'm afraid it's too late for apologies, Trissy." He mocked, using the pet name Bernisi had used some time ago.

Rusef drew his long sword, pointing it at my neck. Instinctively, I reached for my sword, by grabbed nothing by air. I had left my sword back at camp to be cleaned. Damn!

Instead of a sword, I'd have to improvise. Using my open palm, I thrust the sword from the flat side upwards, sending it into the air. The Warden, as I expected, stumbled backwards. I took this opportunity to asses my options. I had no weapons, and the armored man in front of me doubled my size. I couldn't fight him. I'd be dominated in seconds, plus, he's wearing armor. My attacks would do nothing to him. I only had one option, given the situation.

Run.