69 Worth Every Copper

The sounds of battle hung in the air, the clanging of metal, the firing of arrows, men and women yelling. Kagehisa Yumiko walked back to where Sorina Korr was hiding.

"So where did you say you came from again, my lovely daughter?"

Korr blinked. Since when had she become Yumiko's daughter? "Um. I came from Nice."

Yumiko offered her a triangular item wrapped in leaves. Korr opened it immediately and found a fragrant sweet rice cake. Korr decided she didn't have any more questions. Nom.

Yumiko smiled, tilting her head cutely, "Nice?"

"Nice," Korr confirmed.

"Nice."

"Um. Yumiko?" Korr nibbled away at the rice cake, but she still had concerns.

"Yes, daughter?"

"Should we... be helping?"

Yumiko gave Korr a sudden embrace. Korr had kept a tight grasp on the leaf-wrapped rice cake, so she was okay with it. "Aww! You're so sweet, daughter. But don't worry, our Ivory Judge sect isn't so easy to bully."

...

A 6-fulm tall armored tank waded through the battlefield. Clemont was fending off an Ivory Judge swordsman with his staff. With a heavy swing of his arm, the end of Leserre's flail caught the swordsman's head.

Clemont exhaled a sigh of relief but lamented at the sword marks on his freshly damaged staff, "My thanks, Sir Leserre."

The Knight walked up to the swordsman in the orange tunic and brought his flail down upon the man's head once more. He turned to Clemont and flipped his visor up to reveal his face, "Seven hells! These buggers are resilient! That one was still moving!"

Clemont adjusted his circular glasses, "Not an isolated incident, then?"

Leserre shook his head, "Our numbers are about even, but it looks like our men are having trouble in one-on-one combat."

Clemont glared at Leserre. Leserre stepped in front of Clemont, blocking some arrows with his armored body, "What?"

"Since when does Guild Staghorn train to fight in single combat?" Clemont chastised the bigger man.

"Ohhhh, riiiight." Leserre turned about and yelled, "Archers!! Take out the ranged threats! The rest of you lot!! Close ranks!! Attack in teams of 3!!"

The sound of horns blared, an unmistakable sound amidst the chaos, and the company as a whole began to form into its practiced formations.

"There! How was that, ya grumpy old wizard!" Leserre twirled his sweat and blood covered mustache.

Clemont rolled his eyes. He was Leserre's junior by several years. Instead of answering, he rapidly made four gestures with his left hand and channeled mana through his staff, "Just cover me, Emilien."

A sparking blue sphere of energy swirled at the end of Clemont's staff-- not to the level of Maximus' mana, but still dangerous. "Shock Sphere."

With another gesture, the sphere darted away, colliding with a group of orange-clothed Martialists. Electricity coursed through their bodies and they fell to the ground, frothing at the mouth. Clemont felt some of his confidence return. As resilient as the sect warriors were, his spells remained effective.

Leserre whistled, "That's our Wizard! A hundred times better than I could ever do!"

Clemont sighed, "If you'd applied yourself, you'd be able to cast something more complicated than a middle-schooler."

The knight laughed shamelessly as the pair waded back into the melee.

...

The lone Martialist landed in front of Gian Vanzano. Gian and his allies looked up. The man had fallen an impressive distance and had landed unscathed.

"Ha! You don't look so tough, warrior!" The youth, bereft of armor, wearing merely an orange tunic and trousers, bounced playfully in a boxing stance, "Is that a shield? What are you, scared?"

The Stagheart mercenaries gripped their weapons uneasily. Gian clenched his left hand, his arm covered by a shining metal shield. He spun his spear in a flourish in his main hand while staring impassively in observation of his opponent, "You talk too much..."

One of Stagheart's axe warriors stepped up to Gian's side, "Sir Maximus, shall we surround this one?"

In a blur of silver armor, Gian had closed the gap between himself and the orange Martialist. With a clang of metal, the Martialist was forced back. Gian stared at his spear in suspicion.

The axe warrior was confused, "Sir Maximus... did you just..."

Gian nodded wordlessly and narrowed his eyes as they began to glow an electric blue from his residual mana. The axe warrior gulped and with a hand motion, he and the Staghearts took a defensive step backward.

The youth rubbed his chest, grinning, "Haha! Was that all, Outsider?! I'll have you know, I'm the 5th strongest man in the Ivory Sect's young generation! Tremble in fear and hear my name!! For I am--"

Gian Vanzano unfolded his draconic blue wings. "Tremble in fear." Raising his wings up to the sky, Gian's height dwarfed his opponent. The Martialist gawked, his ability to gloat suddenly absent.

"Hear. MY. Name." In a crackling rush of blue, the dragonborn moved.

"Tch. What use are wings here?!! Bring it on!!" The Martialist yelled as he prepared to block the attack.

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Gian drew back his spear, his shield forward.

"Maximus."

Like a bolt of lightning, he thrust his spear forward, easily piercing through the youth's chest. The man began to scream in pain. But the screams became halting as magical electricity coursed through the man's body and the smell of ozone and burnt flesh filled the air.

Gian bashed the youth off of his spear with his shield before leaping forward again, "Maximus."

The man's spear pierced through the youth's skull and it burst open like a cracked watermelon, showering bits of charred fat.

A Stagheart archer vomited.

The axe warrior felt his stomach churning sick, but he was able to hold on, in front of his juniors. He turned to his companions, "Treat the Martialists as if they're wearing armor! Blunt weapons and vulnerable points! We've trained for this!"

"Yes, sir!" they resounded.

...

Knight Leserre smashed his flail into a Martialist's ankles, fracturing the woman's leg and taking her off of her feet. As he raised his flail a second time, he stopped as he noticed a sect swordsman screaming and rushing at him from his blind spot.

An arrow in the side of the man's neck stopped his charge. And a brief moment later, a second, further piercing arrow dropped him.

Leserre nodded as he dropped his flail on the fallen woman's face, "Good, well done! Scout, report!"

The scout from earlier had returned and nodded to both Knight Leserre and Wizard Clemont, "Heavy casualties, Sir Knight. But Sir Maximus' magic has wrought more casualties to the enemy forces than they've done ours."

Clemont furrowed his brows, "What? Are you serious?"

The scout grinned, "'Tis glorious, Master Wizard. Maximus calls down lightning and thunder like he's a demigod."

Clemont nodded, "Sacred gods, I've heard the Dovahkiin are strong in the ways of magic... but that sounds ridiculous."

Leserre laughed, elbowing the gangly wizard, "Worth every copper, eh?"

The scout nodded with a smile, "We might win this one yet."

Clemont allowed himself a smile. Perhaps he was too quick to abandon hope for Guild Stagheart.

And then he noticed that the scout's right eye had sprouted an arrow shaft.