Author's Note: I hate this chapter, and it's not because of the manakete on this level, it's not even the ballista soldiers. It's Linde. And the colosseum that you have to train Linde in...from lv. 1.
Thick foliage intercepted the sunlight casting stripes onto the floor. Hovering over the small barrier of mountains in the west, pegasus knights kept an eagle watch on sea of trees below.
Green eyes peered between the blanket of leaves, in front of them a tartar's bow was nocked with an ash arrow. In a flash the arrow flew from the bow and into the glare of the sun.
"Did I get her? Did I?" Gordin asked barely able to temper his excitement.
"...Yes, I think you got her."
Beaming the small archer ran off looking for a new position. Navarre follow quietly, grimacing at the way Gordin crushed twigs carelessly under his feet. Apparently Altean archers didn't double as scouts.
"Well, never thought my time here would be spent as a spotter."
Prince Marth had said something about protecting Gordin while he sniped pegasus knights. That had originally made perfect sense but...
Suddenly an odd whizzing sound pierced the air. Realising the sound's origins Navarre yelled, "Gordin! Stop!"
Even before Gordin skidded to a stop a large iron bolt rammed into the ground. However instead of throwing up a shower of dirt, the second impact was made, a blast of lightning erupted from the arrow head. That sent Gordin flying head of heels landing in a dusty pile.
"Ballistician." Navarre muttered to himself as his acquaintance picked himself up.
Just as the poor archer got to his feet another tell-tale whistling sound started. This time a bolt strapped with rocks smashed into a boulder sending debris everywhere. "Move!" Navarre snapped taking off giving Gordin a rough shove.
Once the ballista bolts stopped raining down on them Navarre stopped to consider their next action. No doubt the ballistae were positioned behind the mountains. That meant that Prince Marth's main force would eventually run into them.
The sound of boots made Navarre whirl around which caused Julian to find himself with a killing edge at his throat. "Whoa! Easy! I'm not the enemy!" the red haired thief exclaimed.
"If you value your life then shut your mouth. Unless you want to be impaled on a ballista bolt." Navarre hissed refusing to move the sword from Julian's neck.
"Well, if you'll just move this neat little blade of your away from me, I can tell you your new orders."
Grudgingly Navarre lowered his sword, "Speak."
"Well, as you've noticed because of this little ballistae problem we have the winged units are kind of...out of commission. And Marth wants to compensate with the rest of the troop, since he split his forces in half to...help...a village." Julian's voice was a mix of skepticism and hopefulness.
Looking away Navarre resisted the urge to say 'of course he did' at the General's actions. What was so important in that village that would steal away from trying to capture the important position of the Archanean palace?
While he was rationalizing the orders of the General, the ever loyal Altean archer had already gotten on his way.
A small cloaked figure sprinted through an Archanean town, footsteps ringing loudly against hard cobblestones. The figure stumbled on a broken flag, fell, then scrambled up and dodged into an alley.
A moment later the small figure found itself with a scimitar at it's throat. Behind it's cloak the small hand clasped around a leather bag outlining a rectangular shape. A blast of light erupted from the alley, the cloak figure dashed out a second later.
Navarre found the town that Prince Marth had worked so hard to save in shambles. The main concentration of buildings in the back of the semicircle seemed to be in good condition, but the scattered houses and shops were up in smoke.
With a quick glance around Navarre ran at the first Grustian soldier he saw. The momentum built up from his run sent his killing edge clean through the soldier's torso. Even before the body hit the ground Navarre was pulling his sword free and looking for the next opponent.
Julian's report had either been exaggerated or Prince Marth had changed his mind on the number of troops. The Altean soldiers and mercenaries were outnumbered, the tide wasn't clearly in anyone's favor.
To the left a Grustian charged at him, dropping to his knees Navarre swung his leg at the soldier hearing the man crumble and hit the ground. Getting up in a flash he sunk his sword into the fallen soldier.
Loosening the blade from the broken cobblestone Navarre spotted a flash of gray from the corner of his eye. Pivoting he swung at the gray but was stopped by a shriek. It was at a high enough pitch to be a child's voice.
Gritting his teeth in annoyance he shoved the child towards the entrance of the village only to find him or her had turned back. Pulling a yellow and white covered book from under the gray cloak, a cry of "AURA!" sent a blinding flash of light into the distance.
The light blinded Navarre, in that moment a sword tip cut his arm. Turning swiftly he thrust his sword into his offender. A shadow caused the swordsman to look up, pegasus knights. The inability to continue sniping had spared the winged knights, the noise of battle must've been like a beacon.
A javelin landed a foot next to him, throwing up a small cloud of dust.
It was followed by a flurry of white feathers diving at him like an arrow. Dodging neatly to one side he swung his sword at the pegasus aiming to take off a wing. It wasn't often Navarre was cruel to animals, he liked how they were usually quieter then humans. But ever since he joined the Archanean League pegasi had only brought bad fortune to him.
Ignoring the winged beast he brought his sword down on the rider with all his strength.