"How do you feel about it?" Logan inquired, his tone casual yet observant. He watched Allen as he methodically secured ten freshly retrieved arrows into the quiver strapped firmly around his waist.
With a composed shake of his head, Allen replied, "Just watch and wait, Chief. I believe the title of 'rookie' will fit them rather well."
Having made his point, Allen urged the wolf he rode forward to the forefront of the fray, where fifty wolf riders were arrayed against him, their breaths visible in the cool air, eyes narrowed in anticipation.
Bagen, observing Allen's confident demeanor, turned to Kro, skepticism creasing his brow. "Does this young one truly have what it takes?" he questioned, his voice tinged with doubt over Allen's apparent disregard for Logan's stature.
Kro's lips twisted into a half-smile, a seasoned gleam in his eye. "Fear not. Nine years honing his craft as a mercenary cavalryman is not to be taken lightly. If mere numbers dictated victory, what use would we have for skill and mastery?" he mused aloud.
He then added, almost as an afterthought, "Perhaps soon you'll be more concerned about how the chief will react if Allen proves victorious."
Bagen could only grimace in response, rendered momentarily speechless by the possibility.
Meanwhile, Logan, adopting the role of referee in this cavalry contest, listened as the captain of the fifty wolf riders, Rem, addressed him with due respect. "Master Chief, we stand ready to commence."
"Very well," Logan nodded, his voice resonating with authority as he laid out the rules. "Firstly, anyone who strays beyond the two-kilometer radius from my position will be disqualified. Secondly, being struck by an arrow results in elimination, this applies to both warriors and their mounts. And thirdly, any rider who dismounts, voluntarily or not, will also be eliminated.
Prepare yourselves, the battle commences in one minute!"
No sooner had Logan finished than Allen spurred his wolf into action, darting swiftly away from the starting point.
"Follow him! Surround him!" commanded Rem, his voice carrying the weight of his former role as a squadron leader. The majority of the wolf warriors, heeding his call, surged forward in pursuit of Allen.
From a distance, Corvinus observed the unfolding battle from atop his mighty wolf, Fenrir, a silent figure against the sprawling landscape.
"Rem is showing promise, don't you think?" Bagen remarked to Kro, watching the young rider's command with interest.
"Damn it, shoot him down!" Rem barked, drawing his own bow in a swift, fluid motion. The surrounding warriors followed suit, loosing a volley that filled the sky like a menacing net aimed at ensnaring Alan.
But Alan was a spectacle of defiance. With an acrobatic leap, he stood atop his wolf, drawing his scimitar with a swift, elegant motion. He met the descending arrows with a dance of steel, his blade a blur of motion that sent arrows clattering harmlessly to the ground.
The wolf riders who had fired those shots exchanged looks of frustration, Rem's eyes narrowed at the unexpected turn. Alan's use of a scimitar hadn't been accounted for, yet no rule forbade it.
"Keep pressing! He's nearly cornered," Rem shouted, hope reigniting as he noticed a group of beastman cavalrymen ahead, poised to block Alan's path. The chase was far from over, and the thrill of the hunt surged anew within each rider's heart.
The mood among the wolf riders surged with excitement as they pushed their mounts harder, the thrill of the chase igniting their spirits. Alan, having effortlessly deflected a volley of arrows, was now barreling towards a line of a dozen riders positioned to halt his advance. They drew their bows, eyes narrowed, muscles tensed for the kill.
But the air was thick with anticipation and before a single arrow could fly, one rider crumpled, an arrow piercing his chest with such force that he was flung backward from his mount.
"Attack!" The command sliced through the tension as one rider, his face blanching, stretched his bowstring taut and loosed an arrow towards Alan.
Other beastmen followed suit, their arrows slicing through the air, yet, mysteriously, each missile veered off course as if repelled by an unseen shield surrounding Alan.
In a breathtaking display of archery, Alan responded. Within moments, three more wolf cavalry soldiers were out of the contest, their mounts carrying them away, defeated. The line of defenders wavered, fear overtaking them, and they scattered, creating a gap which Alan exploited, swiftly eliminating another opponent.
"Useless fools! These are blunted arrows, what terror do they hold for you?" Rem thundered as he caught up to his faltering troops. His words were a mix of disbelief and anger, aimed at those who had stepped aside, letting Alan through. The riders, grim-faced and chagrined, knew they had shown weakness, yet the instinctive fear of being struck, even by a blunted arrow, had overpowered them.
"Humph, remember this isn't just any scrimmage; our leaders, the chieftain, commanders Kro and Bagan, they're all watching. Is this how you want to be seen by them?" Rem's voice was harsh, laden with disappointment and challenge. "Rally yourselves! No matter how formidable Chief Instructor Alan might be, he is but one man.
If need be, some of you may have to sacrifice your standing for the greater good. Our victory is what counts in the end."
"And don't forget, you carry not only your own honor but also the expectations of our brothers who believe in our strength and unity."
Stirred by Rem's call to honor and duty, the wolf riders tightened their ranks, their faces set with renewed determination. The earlier fear subsided, replaced by collective resolve to overcome the lone challenger, no matter the cost.