When a melee fighter faced archers, one’s options were to either close the distance, find cover, or get out of range. The dried riverbed was practically a shooting range; they had nothing to hide behind so long as the trees on either side were full of kobolds. Nor could they launch a ranged counterattack of their own.
If they closed the distance, the enemies’ arrows would no longer be effective. In their panic, the adventures had forgotten this obvious fact, but at their guildmaster’s orders they regained their senses. They drew their weapons and faced the trees, no longer fearful of the kobold archers.
“Run!” Gaius shouted. From both sides of the dried riverbed, the trees and bushes rustled with the sound of many kobolds dropping their bows and taking off.
“Don’t let them escape!” one of the adventures hollered. “All you gotta do is catch ’em and they’re good as dead!” In the next moment, nearly half of the adventurers had scattered, running into the trees after the kobolds.
They’re splitting up?! Wyatt took off after them, to order them to regroup before they ran out of earshot—but after a few steps forward, he froze in realization. This was Gaius’s plan. He wanted to lure them into the trees, to divide them. No doubt he had come armed, his signature faussar stashed away nearby. That heavy, enormous sword that looked like an oversized machete. A split second later, his suspicions were confirmed, as Gaius stepped out from the woods, sword in hand.
Wyatt knew that if he’d gone into the forest after the kobolds, that blade would have cut him in half.
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If one were to liken it to other swords commonly found in the southern kingdoms, Wyatt’s Sword Eater was most akin to a bastard sword; the blade was longer and slightly thicker than that of a common longsword, but one could still wield it one-handed. In recent years, two-handed longswords had become one of the more common bladed weapons, but the more versatile bastard swords boasted a wider variety of offensive options.
On the downside, the thick blade made it heavier than most one-handed swords; this, combined with the different center of gravity compared to a longsword, meant that one had to train specifically with a bastard sword to make good use of it.
Wyatt had learned the ins and outs of his weapon, and it was with that knowledge that he took up the “rage stance,” his sword resting on one shoulder as he gripped the handle with both hands. Unlike less skilled swordsmen, he knew that the posture was not just for brute-force offense. If anyone dared to attack him, he could parry the blow and keep his attacker occupied long enough for the others to surround them.
Wyatt had unwavering confidence in his skill, his experience, and his feats in battle. Even so—no, it was precisely because he felt confident that he knew not to underestimate Gaius Beldarus.
“Forget about the dogs! Kill this man first!”
At Wyatt’s orders, the remaining adventurers drew their swords and spears before surrounding Gaius. Those with bows knew they risked hitting their allies if they fired now; instead, they stood behind Wyatt with arrows at the ready.
Gaius did not make a move to defend or attack, standing almost perfectly still. He closed one eye and swept his other eye over the people before him. He nodded once, then roared, “Daaarke!”
The trees behind Wyatt rustled, and a split second later a woman in a brimmed cap and a black mantle leapt out. She tipped her cap to Wyatt and the adventurers, a silly grin on her face.
“Hello hello, one and all! So very sorry to intrude—I see you’re busy. I won’t need but a moment of your time.”
The woman exuded a strangely insoucient yet sensual aura as she sauntered over to the archers, her right hand behind her back and under her cloak. The adventurers stared, dumbstruck, until Wyatt yelled. “Get away from her!”
But it was too late. Though her gait had been relaxed and ambling, she’d somehow already managed to close a fair bit of distance. She removed her arm from her cloak to reveal a dagger in her hand. In a sudden contrast to her earlier movement she dashed toward the archers, slipped behind the one closest to her, and slit his throat all in one swift motion.
Even before he hit the ground, she was already halfway to her next target. The archer screamed as he saw her approaching; one bow-wielding adventurer beside him nocked her own arrow while another threw his bow aside and drew the sword that he wore on his hip.
Wyatt hesitated. That was long enough for Gaius to begin his own attack, and Wyatt knew that even ten adventurers stood little chance against the Black Rose of Igris.
Gaius swung his massive blade to the right, and cleaved through one swordsman in a single stroke without even turning to face him. With another flick of his sword, he cut the spearhead from an adventurer’s lance before delivering a solid kick to the man’s stomach that sent him flying. The adventurer collided with a tree headfirst, his neck bent at a grotesque angle. Another stepped forward in an attempt to attack Gaius from behind, but before he could even draw his blade his head went flying.
Wyatt knew he was the only one who stood a chance. “I’ll take Beldarus—three of you, go out and round up the others! The rest of you, get that woman!” The remaining adventurers surrounding Gaius quite literally leapt at the opportunity to get away from him. As ordered, three people raced off into the woods, and the rest rushed at the woman in the black mantle.
“It’s so nice to meet you all! My name is Darke, and to be perfectly honest, Sir Gaius and I are lov—oh, that was a close one!” Her unprompted confession was cut short by an incoming lance thrust, which she jumped back to avoid. Darke skipped off into the woods, and the adventurers ran after her.