613. Alright I

613. Alright I

“Hail travellers!” called one of those leading the party, one of the five heavily armoured warriors who were mounted. He wore a breastplate over his heavy chain, with a long cloak of black, and even his great steed wore barding made of chain. At his side was a blade, and he wielded a long spear, which he rested over his shoulder. He pulled up his visor to reveal his face, with pale skin and dark hair, that of most of Aldland. “How do you fare?”

“Greetings,” Adam replied, walking up to meet him, while the other mounted warriors approached more slowly, but stood some ways behind. Jurot, Jaygak, Kitool, and Sir Vonda, stepped up, though remained behind the Half Elf. “Well enough.”

“Not well enough to remove your helmet.”

“It’s rather cold down here on the ground, so the helmet’s keeping me warm,” Adam replied, glancing across the five heavily armoured warriors, each adorned in similar gear, though they wore different capes and cloaks and scarves.

“You cannot blame your lack of a mount on your lack of respect.”

“I don’t lack a mount, I just don’t need to ride it to feel better than you,” Adam replied, still eyeing up the others behind him. They wore more simpler chain, some of them wearing thicker clothing under the chain, others did not. Some wielded simple spears and shields, others wielded blades and shields, and some even carried pikes in hand. Adam glanced back at his companions, realising he needed to equip them in plate mail, not just Jaygak, who was fortunate enough to receive one from the Duchess.

“It seems you have a problem with us,” the stranger said.

“Not all of you, just you.”

“I’m Clarence, of the Black Cloaks,” the man said. “Perhaps you’ve heard of us.”

Adam looked back to Jurot. “My brother seems to know of you, but I’m afraid I can’t say I do. I’m Adam, from Fate’s Golden. You might have heard of us as the ones who killed Vandra a couple of years ago, or the ones that killed a Blue Dragon shortly after. If you haven’t heard of us through that, then perhaps you’ve heard that we recently placed in the tournament, taking the top seven spots for one, the third spot for another, and then top two in another.”

“Rather boastful, aren’t you?”

“I’m just letting you know how this’ll end up when you forget your place,” Adam retorted, inhaling deeply. “You sure have some guts for someone who isn’t at least a Count, no, a Marquis.”

“You’re out manned and out geared, so watch your tongue, before things get more troublesome.”

“Out manned?” Adam looked back to his companions, and then back to the group. “How many Iyrmen you got?”

“None.”

“How many Greater Enhanced weapons you got?” Adam asked.

“...” Clarence looked back to his companions curiously, before turning his gaze back to Adam and the others. “None?”

“Your definition of out manned and out geared is very different to mine,” Adam stated, casually. “How many of yours can sling Fireballs?”

“...”

“How many of yours are from an order?”

“One.”

“Oh yeah?” Adam replied, more eagerly. “Which order?”

“Order of the Thousand Hunts,” one of the mounted warriors said, pulling up cloak away from her breastplate to reveal the symbol on her chest, that of the order. Adam vaguely recognised the blade and bow as the symbol of the Order of the Thousand Hunts.”

“One of yours was in the tournament wasn’t he?”

“There were several, yes,” the woman replied.

“I must have beaten one, but I feel like you guys did more,” Adam said, glancing back to Jurot.

“We beat Sir Gordan.”

“Sir Gordan? Sir Gordan.” Adam tried to recall.

“The Iyrmen can confirm his words, for one is his brother.”

“He’s a brother to an Iyrman?” Sir Liana asked, barely masking the surprise in her voice.

“Adam is my brother,” Jurot confirmed.

Suddenly, the mood shifted in the air. At first it had been tense, and though it had slowly relaxed with Sir Vonda and Sir Liana talking, it became tense and awkward again. It was one thing for Adam to be boastful, but it was another thing if he was an Iyrman’s brother and said all of those things.

Sir Liana turned slightly, straightening up. Sir Vonda accepted the invitation, and the pair walked to one side, away from the keen ears of the Iyrmen, leaving the two groups in awkward silence.

“Do you know you have two Demons in your company?” Sir Liana’s voice was neutral, doing her best not to sound threatening.

“I keep a watchful eye on them,” Sir Vonda replied, simply.

Sir Liana slowly nodded her head, pausing to think. “You are still outnumbered three to one. I can guarantee your lives, and perhaps the lives of the Iyrmen, but the others...”

“If it should come to blows, I am uncertain of how many of you will die. I can guarantee your life, and I believe Adam will...” Sir Vonda thought about how new some of the warriors looked, and how Adam could blast them with a Fireball and instantly kill them all. “You have seen the amulet on his neck.”

“Do you really think your group will win?”

“The weakest of our members are Experts,” Sir Vonda replied, simply.

Sir Liana remained silent, glancing towards the group. She noted the attire of some of the group, the porters and the farmers, who may have worn decent gear, but were no doubt wearing the typical attire of those who were not adventurers, but porters and farmers first. “You are all at least Experts?”

“I am certain of it,” Sir Vonda replied, looking to the group. “Those who join with us, the farmers, have been adventuring at an extreme pace, and have gone through quite through several experiences which should have killed them, and some which did. Adam, too, had gone through such experiences.”

“How strong are you?”

“I, too, am an Expert.”

“You’re a Priest, not a Guardian?”

“That is correct.”

“...”

Once the pair returned, Sir Liana mounted her horse, and her horse slowly walked up to beside Clarence.

“Adam,” Sir Vonda called.

“Yes, Sir Vonda?”

“I have guaranteed Sir Liana’s life.”

Adam smiled slightly. “Of course, Sir Vonda.”

Clarence’s face remained neutral as Sir Liana whispered something into his ears. His eyes fell across the entirety of Fate’s Golden, all twenty three members. Then his eyes fell to Lucy, and Mara, before they finally fell to Umbra.

He leaned in to whisper into the woman’s ear. “Are you sure?”

“I won’t be the one betting my life on it,” came the response, for all to hear.

Our villains are... rational?

I don't like this.

Blood for Baktu!