Author's Note:

Hello Loyal Readers! My co-author Mootheman and I have decided that instead of every other week, we may have to pubish every half month due to the work load that we are currently shouldering. Anyway, enjoy Chapter 8!

"The girl is strong, but she won't survive the night," said the doctor. All the air was sucked out of the room. No one dared speak. Jon, lightheaded, stared in disbelief. Michael and Kiichiro Kat's faces were like stone. Chloe choked back a sob and abruptly left. She had been told her best friend was going to die. Even Jules had the tact to look away.

"I managed to stitched the wound, but the damage is too severe and the blade that stabbed her appears barbed, as the blade was pulled away the flesh and organs were torn. It was a miracle that she had lived this long. I did everything I could. I am sorry, my lords." continued the diminutive man, shaking his head in defeat yet with a touch of amazement in his voice.

"A miracle indeed," agreed the newly - awoken Hunter; his head down. Not only was she a worthy successor but the Queen of the Hunt's daughter was very dear to him. Amanda was almost like a surrogate child to him.

Jon croaked, "Can we speak with her?"

"I'm afraid not. I gave her a sedative for the pain but you can talk to her after supper, I assure you."

Jon stared at his portion of beef stew and bread, too guilty to even take a bite. Everyone else didn't seem to have much of an appetite. Chloe hadn't even attempted to touch her food; her eyes were red and she looked more disheveled than usual. The only person who was interested in eating was that blasted Jules. The "King of Thieves" ravenously consumed the dish as if there was no tomorrow. How impudent!

Jules felt a pair of eyes glaring at him. Not that that was uncommon but this particular pair came to his attention as they felt abnormally close. He could almost guess who it was before even looking up.

"It's been a long time since I've eaten anything like this," the "King of Thieves" started.

"I got to keep my strength up. Whether we want to or not is our decision."

Jon was taken aback by his response. He actually knew he was being watched. It seemed inappropriate that he could eat with such gusto after what happened but that wasn't the only cause to Jon's anger. He was present when Keen stabbed Amanda and he felt a sort of survivor's remorse over the fact that he could have saved her. But he reasoned that if he tried, then they'd both be dead. Nevertheless, there was someone else who could have prevented this.

"You should have killed him," said the adolescent Prince out of nowhere, still looking at his half – eaten dish.

Jule's instincts told him that it was he whom Prince Jon was speaking to. He expected some sort of outburst.

"Look mate, I'm sorry for this. I really am and if I knew this would happen..." the apology was obvious in his tone but Jon was driven by forces more powerful than rational thinking.

He replied vehemently, tears threatening to pour. "I saw you up there on that platform with Keen. You could have killed him. Easily. Now Amanda's practically dead. I thought that you were the best of a gang of low, filthy criminals who could kill without a second thought. Now I know you aren't even that."

Jules remained impassive but his eyes bored into Jon's, belittling him. Jules' average features remained normal but his irises were like two burning circles of obsidian staring into his soul, reading his every thought and impulse. He stood over the young Prince, dominating the room.

"I'm a thief, not a cutthroat. I apologize if I did not do as you wished, my Lord. I would have said good luck but you're going to need more than that to defeat Reivynn." said the King of Thieves himself, dripping with sarcasm. And with that, he left the table.

"What's his problem?" Jon got up to follow the angry figure but a hand stopped him.

It was Michael's. "Leave him. He has his reasons. Better you don't meddle with them."

Amanda was definitely dying, no question about it. Jon and Chloe let out a little cry when they entered her bedroom. The Heiress of the Hunt was deathly pale and on closer inspection, the lips of the wound on her side had gone green from the infection. The smell of rot and decay emanated from the evil gash. This didn't stop Chloe from grabbing Amanda's hand; it was clammy and cold.

The dying huntress smiled. She was aware that she didn't have much longer but at least whom she could call her two best friends were with her. They had known each other since childhood and they all shared one thing in common – they were born leaders. This brought them all the closer.

"Chloe," Amanda spoke with a sad smile towards her second in command. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better to take my place. But even more, I couldn't have asked for a better friend. All of you in fact," she said acknowledging everyone else in the room. "I couldn't have asked for better friends." Chloe could only sob and crush her friend in a bear hug, tears flowing freely down her face.

"Don't talk like that Amanda!" said Jon, knowing that his words were false.

"It's just, I'm so sorry. I couldn't help. I'm so sorry Amanda. If only Jules had killed Keen," Jon continued. Amanda gently nudged Chloe aside to talk to the Prince.

"He couldn't help it," replied the huntress, resigned to her fate. Jon put it down to the pain, making her groggy and talk nonsense.

"Ask Michael about Jules' past. He should know. And Jon, if you're sorry; win this for us," she requested, grabbing Jon's hand in a surprisingly strong grip.

"Lead us to victory. I hope I didn't sacrifice myself for nothing and I'm sure Jules has something to help. Please. He's a valuable ally," she entreated to him; she sensed Jon's resentment towards the King of Thieves.

At this point, Jon would have done just about anything for her. "I'll try my best," Jon sobbed.

Amanda winced; she shuddered, a wave of pain wracked her entire body. A faint "Thank you" escaped her lips.

It was her last.

Jon tossed over his bed in the room at the Drunken Horse. He had spent the last two hours downhearted, trying to sleep. He furiously rubbed his eyes in an attempt to stem the flow of tears. He was supposed to be their leader! The way he sobbed earlier was way out of character and the Prince understood that weakness was easily preyed on. That sort of behavior was unacceptable. He needed to show Jules who was boss and it definitely wouldn't help if he was a crying wreck.

Even so, Jon wasn't sure if he could trust the King of Thieves. The way he shook those chains off then dispatched Keen was nothing short of uncanny. He could have very well escaped by himself in some convoluted fashion or even avoided the whole situation in the first place.

Jules was known to be cunning so what if he knew that Keen would kill on or even more? What if it was all a trap? But then, what would he have to gain if he took part in the slow destruction of the Kingdom of Aericanus? Surely he couldn't bare to watch his countrymen die? Was he even from Aericanus or did he even take part in its relatively recent rise from the soil? Was he even human? However, the big question was the King of Thieves to be trusted?

All these questions whirled in his head so he decided to talk with Michael, in bed right next to him. The Hunter was lying flat, hands on his stomach with his eyes staring straight into the roof.

"Can't sleep?"

"No. After that slumber, I can't get a single second of shut - eye"

There was a thoughtful pause, then Jon asked: "Michael, how can you remain so stoic? Amanda was nearly as much as daughter as I am your surrogate brother."

Jeremiah and Michael were brothers by blood but of course Jon came around their early forties so the two accepted him as a sibling. Still, the huge age gap meant that they were like parents to the adolescent.

"Jon, I have been through something similar although it was much worse. Funnily enough, it was a similar person as well."

Jon, still in his teens, couldn't comprehend what was even worse than a dead friend.

"Much worse? I loved Amanda… like we were siblings of course." The last part was added a bit hastily.

Michael chuckled although there was a sorrowful note to it. "In my relative youth, I lost someone. That someone was Amanda's mother."

Jon looked sidelong, his interest aroused. "How was losing her much worse?"

"You love Amanda," he silenced Jon when he tried to object, "as sister of course. But you see, I was in love with her."

The Prince, being the rational type, found the concept of romantic love at the very least, intriguing. He rolled onto his side, discerning Michael's dim form still in the same position.

"What was it like?" He asked. "What was she like?"

Michael exhaled. "She was like Amanda, except more mature of course. Brave, headstrong - she was also incredibly keen on learning the way of the hunter and insisted that I taught her. I wonder why," Michael mused, reminiscing.

"She had a will of steel and she had a way with people. Maybe that was how she got so many followers for such a short of time." Then, out of the blue, Michael asked,

"Jon, did you find Amanda pretty?"

There was an awkward silence, then he grunted in reply. It sounded like he was saying yes.

"I thought as much. Well her mother, she was positively beautiful. Maybe it's my age but I'm sure Amanda would have been like her."

Jon ignored the fact that if The Queen of the Hunt had a daughter and Michael was not her husband, then he must have faced some sort of competition. He decided to ask a less uncomfortable question.

"How did she… go?"

Michael remained silent.

"Okay. Maybe that wasn't the most appropriate question. Amanda said something about asking you about his past." He didn't dare say the name of whom he was talking about.

"Who's he? Oh, you mean…"

Just then, the angry growl of Kiichiro Kat was audible from the room adjacent to theirs.

The Senshi warrior volunteered to keep watch over Jules in the event that he tried anything. Not that it would work but it gave a false sense of comfort which was sorely needed. Almost immediately after, his growl was followed by the sound of someone charging down the corridor; all goals of stealth were thrown out of the window.

Michael was up immediately with Jon close behind. The Hunter threw the door open to see Jule's cloak streaming after him as he bounded down the stairs. Ominously, the door to his and Kiichiro Kat's room was ajar.

Jon attempted to follow him but Michael grabbed his shoulder. "Leave him. If he doesn't want to be found, then I assure you he won't be. We better check on Kiichiro Kat."

The Prince, slightly chastened at the fact that he totally ignored his friend accompanied Michael into the room, fearing the worst. Luckily they found the Senshi wrapped in his blanket, helplessly squirming on his bed.

Michael undid the knot that held him cocooned within the blanket and Kiichiro Kat spoke.

"The rat bound me up and left. He said he wouldn't if I remained silent but of course I wanted to warn you, so I did. Even if he held a pencil to my throat."

Jon sighed. "Is that all?" The Senshi nodded.

He continued. 'Well, we can tell Chloe about this tomorrow morning. Hopefully, the doctor has prepared Amanda's body so we can go back to the castle."

A figure appeared at the door. It brandished a candle and a large cudgel. The figure was the bartender.

"What's going on? I heard someone running so I came to check." A sense of urgency tinged his tone; this place was infamous for the so called "night - time visits".

Walking towards him, Michael lowered the cudgel which was raised in a defensive position. "Nothing that should concern you. We appreciate your helpfulness but one of us left quite abruptly. There's no point chasing him now."

The bartender's shoulder's relaxed. "Alright then, good night to you." And with that, he left.

Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion washed over Jon. This was a very long day. "We might as well get some sleep. We should be travelling back to the castle nonstop tomorrow."

Aaliana Labradoge was in her bedroom, cleaning her massive broadsword. She had recently arrived at dawn, from a battle against a unit of Morgs and she had instantly plopped on top of her bed. She slept like a log for the next two hours but her iron discipline ensured that she'd get up to clean her gear.

Her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to hone out the nicks and scratches from its otherwise razor sharp edge using her whetstone. She paused for a moment, glancing at her armour which was covered with a Morg's blood. Why did these creatures have to be so annoying to kill? Their blood was incredibly viscous so that it couldn't be easily wiped off. When hardened, it formed a tarry substance that had to be painstakingly scraped off armour and weapons alike.

Not only that, but the Morgs were very aggressive, with tough hides and surprisingly strong plate armour. This ensured that a sword would be battle scarred by the end of a proper skirmish with those creatures. At least an average weapon would. But she knew she couldn't use her old gear; it was too risky…

A knock on the door brought her back to the present. It was probably Jeremiah, asking for a report. A whetstone had to be dampened before usage, so drying her hands off with a towel, she opened the door to be greeted by more people than she expected. A woman in her sixties; probably a royal courier or diplomat judging by her demeanor; she was followed by Commander Bappy and a rather smitten Jeremiah both with their preferred weapons at their belts. The courier's actions told the Captain that she expected something from her.

Ignoring the two men, Aaliana asked: "How may I help you?"

Lady Ysabel took in the woman's thickset figure, with arms that looked like they were capable of crushing one's skull. She reminded her of some of the massive locals of Skandia. But unlike them, she seemed to be hiding something and acted a bit more reserved. As a courier and a lover of people, it was in Ysabel's nature to try and find out what that was.

She put her right hand out in greeting: "My name's Ysabel. What's yours?"

"Captain Aaliana. Aaliana Labradoge." The massive woman enveloped the smaller hand in what could have been interpreted as an intimidating gesture.

"Let's sit and talk." And so the four sat down around the utilitarian table within Aaliana's bedroom.

"I've heard that you were trained by some of the old Knight's Templar. Could you kindly elaborate on it?" said Ysabel, beaming a genuine and honest smile.

Normally, Aaliana would that information to herself. The present Knights Templar had many spies. Somehow, she trusted the smaller woman but you could never be too cautious.

"What's it to you?" She countered quite brusquely.

Ysabel remained unfazed. "Okay then. Let me tell you a bit about myself and the current situation."

And with that, she filled Aaliana in on her fief's current situation and how she needed something to counter the supernatural threats that were haunting it. Halfway through, Jeremiah decided to state that he was a close friend to Ysabel which was enough for the Captain to trust her.

"I was trained by the old Knight's Templar and the myths are true. There was such a thing as men and women who fought legendary beasts."

Ysabel leaned in a little closer. "And how's that?"

"Let me show you."

The Captain walked towards her bed, reached under it and she seemingly pulled on a rope that was attached to the bed frame. A large canvas sack fell to the stone floor with a resounding clang and Aaliana presented it to the three curious watchers. She revealed its contents; a massive broadsword and a pair of double bladed axes; a tall, triangular shield and various pieces of a set of armour that was dark grey in hue. All of these were unadorned.

Bappy raised an eyebrow. "Where's the Knight Templar's insignia? Last time I checked, their gear was quite flamboyant. Even for my standards."

Aaliana replied. " The old Knight's Templar weren't ones for ornaments," she said as she brandished the broadsword, feeling the familiar magical energy coursing through her.

"Amongst a few abilities, the metal is resistant to breakage, corrosion, temperature, dark magic and a whole host of other nuisances. It's stronger and sharper than Nihon - Jan steel and most importantly, it can kill the intangible." At this, Ysabel nodded.

"Is that so?" contested Jeremiah as he hefted his massive double - edged battle axe which was attached to his belt in a two handed grip. Wavy patterns on the metal indicated its origins.

Aaliana raised the broadsword in a one - handed grip so that it was at a horizontal position in front of her face.

"Take a swing."

Jeremiah hesitated. He didn't doubt the Captain's strength - she definitely had a lot of it. But he knew very well that even a sword as big as that was not designed to block a battle axe. But her eyes were adamant so he swung half - heartedly. Nevertheless, it was a powerful stroke backed by the Warrior's instinctive power and form. One that many ax men would have to practice countless hours to achieve.

CLANG

The sword didn't budge.

"C'mon Jeremiah. I don't even need to move the blade."

Jeremiah wasn't used to being taunted. Especially when it had something to do with his strength lacking. So the Warrior bore down with his axe, using all of his strength, weight, height and perfect technique to form a destructive strike. Every fibre of his being was determined to knock the sword out of her hand. It was a long time since he tried that hard, as most of his opponents would literally crumple from the sheer force - once they've been cleaved head to toe, that is.

CLANG!

Other than a small movement to counter the devastating blow, her sword remained absolutely still.

The Warrior gave out a grunt of frustration and lashed out in earnest, backhands, forehands, overhead swipes and even thrusts to try and break the unearthly defense. It was an amazing display of decades of fighting experience but Aaliana seemed to match every stroke with minimal effort.

Then the Captain decided that enough was enough. Fast as a snake, she swung the sword. The two weapons collided. Jeremiah used his iron muscles to guide the weapon but Aaliana's strength was like steel. The axe flew, a pinwheel of light, and embedded itself in the thick stone wall.

Bappy and Ysabel stared, dumbfounded. They had never seen the Warrior bested so easily and they didn't think they'd ever see the day. With a mighty heave, Jeremiah pulled his weapon out of the stone and inspected it, grimacing. The axe head was heavily nicked and scratched. Aaliana's blade was absolutely fine.

Jeremiah was unlike the scribes, well versed in the arts of mathematics, but as far as he knew, Aaliana just defied the laws of physics. Every competent warrior knew that you simply couldn't parry an axe swing with a sword. No matter what. Unless…

"That sword - is it magic?"

Aaliana nodded. "The sword, along with the shield and armour increases the perception, endurance and strength of the user greatly."

"So you're saying, that it's just like the potion of strength?" Jeremiah was referring to the concoction which was brewed by their old Druid, Daven, who also doubled as their chef.

"Yes. Without the detrimental effects of course. Here hold it." She said this as she placed the sword in Jeremiah's curious hands."

The Warrior definitely noticed a difference. He felt revitalized by the sword's magical energy. Giving a few experimental swings, he noted that it was light as a feather; even for a perfectly balanced weapon. He lent it to Bappy who at first was reluctant as he was used to the Gallican saber which was more delicate and lightweight than the massive broadsword. But once the weapon was in his hands, the Gallican hefted it as if it were nothing. In turn, he let Ysabel borrow it She had little experience with weapons other than the stiletto yet, even she could wield the massive broadsword with little difficulty.

As Ysabel returned the weapon to Jeremiah who beckoned for it for further inspection, she asked Aaliana: "You said the metal is resistant to temperature. Why?"

Aaliana grinned knowingly: "Then you've obviously never faced the dragons of fire and ice."

Bappy and Ysabel shivered. They've heard of the story where Jeremiah and Michael fought the lindworm - a gargantuan serpentine creature with legs. From description, it was fearsome indeed. But a dragon, a dragon, had wings and could breath fire or ice.

Jeremiah stroked Aaliana's broadsword reverently, looking at the ancient inscriptions engraved on it. He imagined how lethal a trained warrior could be, fully equipped with this sort of gear. "Do you think I can get my hands on one of these? Maybe some armour as well?"

"Well… not now. The secrets to creating this equipment is jealously guarded by the Knight's Templar. They are locked in a vault, guarded by soldiers who are equipped with the magical armor. The only reason why they don't utilize the equipment they already have to gain power is because they are afraid they might lose it and they have no means of reproducing them. As of now, they are trying to decipher the language of the old Knights Templar so that they may find out how to replicate the equipment."

"Oh. Ok." Jeremiah said, disappointed.

Aaliana smiled. "Don't fret. The old Knight's Templar weren't legends only for fancy armor. Some of the better warriors could increase their strength without the weapons. I might be able to teach everyone."

The courier shook her head. Diplomacy was the path for her. But Jeremiah's spirits lifted visibly. Commander Bappy leaned in a little closer.

"Really?" they both asked in unison.

"Yes. But it won't be easy. I can promise you that. Actually, it is said that the most powerful of Knights Templar could conjure weapons and armour out of pure magical energy. They were even stronger than the ones that I'm using now."

Lady Ysabel asked the obvious question: "Can you do this?"

"Unfortunately not but I can assure you that I can still be of help. There weren't many members of the old Knight's Templar so we had our ways of turning the odds in our favour."

The courier bit back her curiosity. Something in Aaliana's voice told her she wasn't going to find out how the Captain planned on evening out the odds until they got to their fief.

"So it all set? We're travelling to my fief tomorrow?"

"Yes. Bappy should come along. I need a commander I know and trust… no offense to your commanders."

Ysabel raised her hand in a carefree gesture: "None taken."

Both Ysabel and Aaliana stood to shake hands, confirming the deal, but before they could do so; someone hastily knocked on the door. The visitor opened it before any of them told him to come in. It was Michael. The look on his face told them that he was bearing bad news as he singled Jeremiah out, looking him straight in the eye.

The Hunter put it bluntly. "Amanda's dead."

Jeremiah stood, throwing his seat back. Aaliana gasped in complete shock, repulsed by the news. Both of them were quite fond of her. Bappy and Ysabel decided to leave the room to leave the brothers to talk.

"How could that happen?"

"It was Keen. Amanda sacrificed herself to save Jon."

Jeremiah had a deeply instilled hate for the warlord. All Keen and Ced had been was a thorn in their side - two very big thorns. The Warrior's face darkened.

"He was there?"

Michael nodded confirmation.

"Well at least you found Jules?"

"No. He left overnight when we were at an inn."

Jeremiah, face like a thundercloud, thought this would be a fruitful day but it was quite the contrary. The Heiress of the Hunt was dead but he could deal with that. This was war so a few casualties were expected. But Jules could have been the key to their problems and now he was gone too.

Aaliana who had been listening intently asked, "Tell me. So how did this all happen?"

Michael filled the both in on the multiple accounts of the people in the party. From his, to Jon's, to Kiichiro Kat's and to Chloe, he told the story from each of their perspectives. All four spectators listened intently, their faces blank.

"Where are the three right now?" Jeremiah was referring to Michael's companions.

Fingering one of his daggers, inspecting the well - crafted weapon, he said "They're down at the eating hall." He couldn't look his brother in the eye. If the Hunter hadn't fallen victim to the sleeping powder, the results of their expedition might have been less damning. In Michael's mind, it was mostly his fault that Amanda was murdered.

"They expect that we talk in the meeting room in about an hour - plan our next move. Everyone is invited," Michael continued, gesturing to Ysabel.