“Who are you, girl? It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the one who’s been manipulating my army somehow.”
“I am Sashalia Denan. General of the Kobold Kingdom.”
“...Denan? A child like you claims to belong to House Denan?” Wyatt was a man trying to make a name for himself through his sword. He was aware of House Denan, famed as it was for its military prowess.
“I didn’t choose to be a Denan. And I’m twenty-three. I’m not a child.”
“Oh? I suppose I don’t need to feel terrible about killing you, then,” Wyatt said, signaling with his eyes for Quincy and Margot to go continue burning houses nearby.
They followed his order quickly and set about carefully lighting some more fires. They threw multiple torches into each building so the internal structures would burn more easily. Wyatt didn’t miss the scowl that appeared on Sashalia’s face for a moment as she watched them.
“I am Wyatt, a knight of the soon-to-be head of House Zigan, Lady Keighley. I oversee the Ryburgh Adventurers’ Guild. We are here on a mission to exterminate the wild dogs that threaten the Marquisate of Northplain. Now get on your knees and submit to our capture.”
“The insolence! You stand in the Royal Capital of the Kobold Kingdom! It’s you who should kneel, Wyatt.”
“Yeah, yeah!”
“Stupid, stupid!”
“And another ‘stupid’ for good measure!”
The kobold women around Sashalia all raised their fists in the air and jeered at him.
“That fool in the black was one thing. Are there nothing but jesters here?” Wyatt and Cyril remained still, carefully observing their surroundings.
Meanwhile, Quincy and Margot had finished setting two more dwellings ablaze. Two kobold soldiers rolled out of them, screaming and covered in soot and flame. One managed to put the flames out by rolling on the ground but passed out immediately after, while the other tried to run and was cut down by a slash from Margot’s sword. Wails of grief came from the female kobolds watching from the hovel.
“So you did have soldiers hiding.”
The houses that no one had come out of were burning steadily, red light emanating from their entrances. Wyatt was confident that those two soldiers had been their last line of defense. He gave an amused snort as Sashalia chewed her lip in frustration, and ignored her lackeys to point his blade directly at her.
“But you don’t anymore. I’ll take your head and give it to Beldarus to show him what I’m going to do to hi...”
Just then—a figure leapt out from one of the burning dwellings, cutting off the red armored knight’s words. The figure took Margot by surprise and grabbed her arm, hurling her back into the house it had just been hiding in. “Rrraaaaah!” It then launched itself at Quincy in a powerful tackle. A sword went through Quincy’s throat as Margot’s screams began coming from the flaming building.
“Take THAT!” The figure shouted as it stood. Wyatt turned to see a short man in heavy armor, probably taken from one of the adventurers who’d died in their previous attack. He stood ready with his sword and made his way between Wyatt and the Command Center, making sure to keep some distance between them. He had burns all over his body, some of which still smoldered.
“You were...hiding inside the fire...?!”
“Sure was! Don’t take dwarves lightly, ye rotten bastard! Pt! Pt!” The burned man cursed and spat at Wyatt. Of course, all spitting did was get saliva all over the inside of his helm.
“Dwarves?! I see, you’re the kid who was with Beldarus back then... You were a dwarf?
“Ye got that right! A great dwarf, protector o’ the world, servant to the goddess, warrior of love, full to th’ brim with bravery and courage! I am Dwaemon, son of Dwaske, warrior of the Great Anvil, and Gaius Beldarus’s top disciple! Remember that name, ye lousy old man! And what’s with the poncey red armor anyway? Act yer age!”
A dark flame lit in Wyatt’s eyes, but Emon was unaware that this wasn’t due to his provocation.
“...Emon!”
“Right here!” Emon replied to the voice from behind him without turning away from facing down Wyatt.
“Stop them, even if you have to die to do it!”
“That’s the plan! Don’t worry, I won’t let ’em lay a hand on ye!” The boy swung his sword into position and said with all the fierceness he could muster, “So just sit tight and pick yer nose or somethin’ back there!”
＊
“I’m not gonna do that, you idiot!”
With Sashalia’s shout at his back, Emon held his sword before his face in the “crown” stance often used by those who wielded longswords. As its name implied, it was a stance that prioritized protecting the swordsman’s head, but considering the size difference between the dwarf and his opponent, it basically protected his entire body.
After all that bravado, he was taking a defensive stance. Wyatt huffed in annoyance, running his eyes over Emon’s armor at the same time. It was a strange shape, far from a normal suit of armor.
“I recognize that armor.”
Though he was short in stature, his robust frame fit into a breastplate worn by a much larger man, protecting everything except his short legs. His arms were protected by smaller pauldrons and gauntlets taken from another soldier. He even had besagues to protect his armpits. Underneath, he was wearing chainmail adjusted to his size so that the joints of his armor weren’t vulnerable. On his head he wore a bascinet that protected his neck as well...his unique build made for an awkward sight, like he was just the upper half of a suit of armor with arms and legs growing out of it. The pointed face of his helm didn’t help. Maybe he looked more like some kind of turtle standing on two legs. It must have all weighed a lot, but dwarves were known for their hardiness all across the continent; though he was young, he made it look easy. In exchange, he’d sacrificed most of his mobility, and on the battlefield would be easy prey for magic staves, sorcerers, and crossbows as long as there was no arrow-deflecting magic in effect. None of that mattered in this situation, of course.
“Hmm? Forgot his name, but he was a big rapist arsehole.”
“I’m sure of it, then. That was Hubert.”
“Yer sure, eh?”
Wyatt didn’t stop observing his foe even as they exchanged words. His opponent was small, with thick armor. With this much of a difference in size between them, it would be difficult to pierce the weak spots in his defenses. He didn’t appear to be very skilled, but he had a weapon, so he couldn’t be ignored. “...What a pain.” Still, Wyatt didn’t want to use the power of the Scarlet Plate. He knew he would need its strength and the willpower to use it when facing off against Beldarus.
Clang! Wyatt’s Sword Eater thrust down towards a gap in Emon’s armor, but Emon deflected it with all he had.
“Oh?” Wyatt was impressed by the boy’s strength. A regular fighter wouldn’t have been able to overpower him.
“Dammit! I’ll kill yeh, ye bastard!” The sound of blades clashing rang out as the young dwarf continued defending, allowing his armor to take any blows that got past his sword. His reflexes weren’t bad, but his movements were very inefficient and he wasn’t skilled with the blade. Compared to the knight who had been wielding a live blade for decades, the dwarf was like a child play-fighting.