Libro rode with Dux towards the city. He held the Vangen's standard in his left hand, his right clutching tightly to the reins. The long wooden pole lay nestled against his hip, flag billowing in an open breeze.
They moved down the merchant’s road, winding through the wooded hillside that bordered the shoreline. Dark, brackish waters from the Alban Sea lapped over jagged cliffs, hocking sea spray into the sky. The air was crisp and salty and earthy. Gulls squawked over a beached carcass. Hardly a cloud in the bright, blue ocean above, fingers of sunlight beaming down over the forest canopy.
It would have been quite the picturesque scene if Libro had been paying any attention, but all he heard was the sound of his own heart thumping in his ears. All he saw was the city’s stone walls towering above him. All he wanted, more than anything else, was to turn his horse around and gallop back to camp, but the Captain had ordered him to come along and he was not the type of man you say no too.
“Just remember what we talked about earlier,” Dux said, keeping his eyes towards the road. “Stick to the plan and let me do the talking. All should be well.”
'Should' being the relative term, Libro thought to himself. “Right. Stick to the plan.”
“And remember to breathe,” Dux reminded him once more. “A good Captain keeps his cool no matter what. Fear can kill a man quicker than any blade.”
Libro inhaled through his nose, held it briefly in his chest and then exhaled slowly. “Right. Keep it together.”
He heard Dux chuckling. “And for Nido’s sake lad have a little fun with it. Pretend like we're acting. This is a show, so let’s put on a good one.”
Libro had trouble wrapping his thoughts around that one, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before the tree line broke away and he was suddenly a hundred feet from the city gates, its bridge drawn up tight.
There were several men standing in their way. About four in total Libro counted, hard faces darkened by draw bridge's shadow. They were dressed in chain shirts, heavy gloves clutching spears, eyeing the two of them suspiciously. Were they with the city guard? It was hard to say. In Orienta it'd been easy to identify friend from foe, but out here it was different. Out here, anyone could be a rebel, waiting for the perfect moment to stab you in the back.
“Halt!” One of the men stepped forward, body rippling with muscle judging by how tight his chains were around him. His hand alone was the size of Libro’s head. He imagined what that hand could do to him. How easy it would be to wrap it around his throat and choke him, or smash his skull open, or both. “Identify yourselves!”
“I am Captain Dux,” The Captain started saying, thumbing at the standard behind him. “Of the Vangen Royal Guard. The Vangen Royal Guard,” he emphasized. “Coming home from our skirmish with the rebels in Orienta. I must speak with the Empress at once.”
The big man was silent for a moment, massive form shifting from leg to leg. “Captain Dux was it?”
“Aye.”
“Of the Vangen Royal Guard, you said?”
“Indeed.”
“That’s odd.” The big man scratched underneath his helmet. “We weren’t expecting your return for another month. Orienta is quite far from here, last I recall.”
“And you would be right,” Dux replied, that damned fool smile of his still plastered from one ear to the next. “Past Turcia and well into the east this land is, but if there’s one thing the Guard excels at, it’s marching.”
The big man chewed on that for awhile. He worked his mouth and spat onto the ground. “Might be. Just might be, but how do I know you ain’t just a fake trying to trick me? Lots of enemies the Empire has. Can’t let just anyone in.”
Dux kept his smile, but the humor in his voice was long gone. “Indeed. Feels like you’re not letting anyone in. Why is that?”
“Quarantine.”
Libro cocked an eyebrow skyward. “Quarantine?” he asked.
The big man looked in his direction, narrowed his eyes, and spat on the ground again. “That’s right. Quarantine. Some new exotic plague or what have you. Most likely from a sailor coming from some far away land. feck if I know. They don’t tell me nothing, anyway.”
“Of course not my friend,” Dux said. “I can only assume they told you to raise the gates and turn away merchants like a good little guardsmen, but as you can see I am not a merchant and I do require entrance into the city. As I said, I must speak with the Empress as soon as possible, what with being the Captain of her majesty’s royal guard.”
“And as I said, I am under strict orders not to allow anyone in,” The man pointed an equally big finger up at Dux. “Do you think you’re the first person to come swaggering over here and start throwing titles in my direction. I had a beggar calling himself the Emperor not too long ago and demanded we let him pass. You know what I did to him?”
“I can only guess,” Dux said.
“I tossed his ass into the sea. Listened to him scream all the way down. And I’ll be doing the same to you lest you turn around and beat it back from whence you came.”
Libro swallowed, his throat very dry now. Despite the big man’s words, his lackey’s weren’t much for following it. They slowly circled round the two of them, closing off the way back, spears gripped tight in their grubby looking hands. He wanted to say something then, anything to alert the Captain, but he bit his lip at the last moment, remembering his words. This was a show after all. Best to make it a good one.
“You could always tell him about Pyres Day,” Libro said.
The big man gawked at that, his lackeys stopping dead in their tracks. “Pyres Day?”
Dux’s smile turned sinister. “Ah yes. Pyres Day.” His voice lowered almost to a whisper. “The day the Empress took power. I was there, you know? It was to be my induction ceremony as Captain. Those who protested against her made for exceptionally good kindling that night. Convinced yet?”
“I...I don’t think...,” The big man stumbled over his words, visibly uncomfortable.
Dux gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine then. Have a look at my officer's badge. Perhaps then you’ll believe me.” He unpinned the fat piece of metal from his lapel and tossed it on the ground. The big man glared at him before reaching down to pick it up.
Dux pulled the ax from his side and buried it in the man’s skull. Libro heard a faint, wet crunch followed by a whooping snort before the guard toppling into the dirt.
“Bastard!” One of the lackey’s screamed. Dux whipped back and slapped his horse across the arse. The animal bellowed and reared up, kicking the man squarely in the teeth.
There were two bodies on the ground before Libro got to his senses. He screamed, pulled the reins, tried to turn his horse around, but the other two lackeys were already on him. Spears pointed in his direction, sharp tips gleaming in the sun. One lanced towards him and he fell back, metal flashing before his eyes. Instead of flesh, the spearpoint caught his standard instead, polearm getting tangled in the fabric.
“Gah!” One of the lackeys cried as he tried to pull the spear back, but it was wrapped up good and tight. “Give it back you bastard!” He yanked harder, nearly pitching Libro off his horse. “Give it back!”
“I’m sorry!” Libro squealed, trying his best to untangle himself and failing miserably at it. Another spear point flashed in the corner of his vision and his heart lept into his throat. He let go of the standard and pulled hard on the reins, the horse bellowed as it jerked roughly to the side. There was a scream and the sound of crunching metal as the horse’s rump slammed into one of the lackeys, pitching him into the dirt. Libro fell over the top of his saddle, cradled the horse's neck, eyes screwed shut as he expected a spear point to rip him open at any moment.
But that moment never came. With one eye peeking out he watched as Dux rode past with ax in hand. He raised the weapon, brought it down like a man chopping wood. Blood splattered into the air as the axe bit through flesh and bone, leaving a ragged cut in the lackey's skull. The force threw him off his feet, body tumbling head over heels as he pitched onto the ground.
Libro vomited then. He pitched sour bile onto a patch of scrubby grass, holding onto the saddle for dear life. He should have known better than to eat breakfast that morning.
Dux turned his horse around, scanning the horizon for more attackers, ax still dripping. He gave a weary smile before his eyes suddenly went wide. “Behind you!” He screamed.
Libro looked up just in time to see the last man getting up, his spear now untangled from the standard, hard metal point at the end aimed directly for him. The lackey charged, letting out a shriek that matched Libro's own.
Choom!
What sounded like a clap of thunder erupted from on high. Seconds later and the lackey’s head burst apart in a fine mist. His body pitched over, spear snapping as the metal point jabbed into the ground.
It sounded like Dux was screaming. That, or he was cheering. It was hard to tell from the pounding in Libro’s ears. His hands trembled violently, teeth near rattling out of his skull. “Breathe,” he reminded himself and he sucked in a great lungful of the stuff until the buzzing in his head went away.
Dux waved a hand up at the gate’s battlement. Libro looked up, saw two very familiar faces staring down at him. One pale and frowning. The other dark and smiling. The four arms of Nox’s crossbow glinted brightly over the stonework, bolt string humming like a fine, line of silver.
“What perfect timing you two seem to have,” Dux called out. “Now would you kindly get the gate open?” Culter nodded and disappeared from view. There was a loud, grating sound and the gate’s chains began to rattle. Seconds later and the bridge came crashing down. Right on top of the big man’s corpse. Blood and dust plumed into the air, the man’s severed hand sailing up and plopping wetly in front of Dux.
Libro watched in fascinated horror as the Captain stepped off his horse and bent down, prying his badge from the dead hand’s fingers. He wiped away the gore and pinned it back onto his lapel.
Culter and Nox emerged from the dust, looking rather pleased with themselves. The Austerlander had his crossbow straddled over his shoulders. Culter was twirling his stiletto. “Told you it would work,” he said.
Libro stared at him in astonishment. “But how? How did you even get into the city in the first place? Byzantia’s impregnable, practically a fortress.”
“Culter shrugged. “Not the sewers.”
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