I leapt away from the man, and his sword slashed through empty air. I danced around him as he swung again. I parried his next blow and he pushed me back a few inches, and had my strength not been true, I would have faltered and would be a bloody mess on the ground.

He twisted his hand, then backhanded me so hard I flew into the brick wall behind us.

I hit it hard and tasted blood in my mouth thanks to the split cheek.

I gave him a bloody grin as he advanced towards me at a leasurely pace. "That the best you can do?" I asked him, raising my arm.

He returned my grin, flashing me his brilliantly white teeth, "Oh, I'm just getting started."

He jabbed his sword at me, and I threw my sword to the side, forcing his blade to the side. The metal on metal from our swords sent a shower of sparks at both of us, and the hissing scream echoed in my ears.

The sword glanced off the brick wall, and I elbowed him in the jaw, then kicked his leg out from underneath him. As he fell forward, I dodged behind him and kicked his back, sending him face first into the wall.

I leapt out of the way as he whipped around faster than I gave him credit for.

I threw up my sword, blocking his, as it came dangerously close to my ribs. He was a lot stronger than me physically, but he wasn't as fast as I was.

I snapped around, twisting my arm, and getting closer to him, drawing a dagger as I went.

I slammed the dagger into his side, then slammed my palm into his sword arm. I heard a pop and he backed away from me, gripping the knife in his side.

He grinned at me, "You're better than I thought."

"A mistake I expect you won't make again." I said casually, leaning against my black sword now that he was a good distance away again. "Who even are you? And what do you have against a child?"

The man smirked at me, "I am Eric Harte. Captain of the Kingsmen. I was sent to this town to monitor the marauder group. My research says they'll strike here next."

I rolled my eyes angrily, "So what, you'll just stare at them? You're not going to do anything?"

"I was ordered not to. And if anything went wrong, to send my men to defend the town, then report back to the King." He answered, leaning against a wall.

"Oh, yeah, cause that'll work." I snarled at him. "You'd rather run and hide with your tail between your legs than help innocent, defenseless people. Coward."

He glared at me, raising his sword and pointing it at me. "I am not a coward. I am just worth more to the King alive than I am dead. I have conquered places you've never heard of, I've killed more people than you've met in your lifetime, and I am Conquest. I am Glory. A pathetic slug such as yourself is not worth my time."

I scoffed, laughing a bit. "Do you know who I am? Do you?" He looked at me curiously, so I continued, "The black sword should be a dead giveaway. I mean, it's not exactly a common color. I'm the Rogue Angel, you moron. I've danced circles around your pathetic excuses for guards. I've robbed more of them than I can count. I take back the gold that your men rob from innocent people who starve to feed their children. And anyway who gets in my way." I gave him a wicked grin, "I deliver them to Death's door. I am the living embodiment of Death. I am Despair to many, and hope to others. You don't know who you're dealing with. So, you, big man, punisher of innocent, have no hope. I am your worst nightmare, and your pathetic excuses make me laugh."

His eyes hardened, "So, you're the one plaguing my men then. You're the one who is responsible for so many deaths."

I leveled my black sword at him, "And you will be the death of so many others if you don't help this town, instead of fleeing with your tail between your legs."

He laughed harshly, "And what, you can help them? There is one of you! Against 40 marauders. You don't stand a chance. Death or not, you'll kill yourself trying."

I shrugged, "And? At least I'll die fighting for what's right. I'll die, knowing that in my last moments, I defended the people who couldn't defend themselves. I'm willing to die for them."

He paused, some of the cruelness fading from his face, being replaced by curiosity. "Why? You can't even do it on your own. What's the point of dying for people you don't know?"

I raised an eyebrow at him, "Captain, you should know that answer yourself. When you fight, who do you fight for?"

"The King." Came his reply.

I rolled my eyes, "Weak reason to fight. Just him? Do you really know him? Do you? He won't let you know him truly. So he's a pretty bad reason to throw your life away for. At least the way I'm going at it, I know that for every father I save, a wife with children waits anxiously for him to return home to his family. For every child I rescue, they could grow up to become someone wonderful, with a family of their own. For every mother I save, I know that at home, she'll have children waiting, a husband who loves her, people who will miss her if she dies. I know, that for every person I save, one less family will go to bed mourning their loss, be it now or in the future, one less friend will drink alone in grief, one more person to try and change the future."

I gave him a smile, "Now, I could be biased, but that's a pretty damn good reason to fight for them, and to die for them. Don't you think? Much better than for the pompous bastard who sits on his golden throne, eating more than he needs, watching his people die of hunger and cold because they can't afford anything thanks to his bloody taxes, and then he sends his guards to ensure that the marauders stay in business, granting him less towns to worry his royal head about."

Harte stood up fully then, glowering down at me, "The King cares about his people."

I looked up at him in disinterest, "Oh? Then he clearly needs to start showing others he does. Because right now, all that he's showing is that his people are a nuisance to him that he can't be bothered with. He wipes out those who try to help them, and rewards those who tear more of his people down to dust. I refuse to believe that man has a shred of generosity and kindness in his stone heart. I might change my mind if he actually showed a real interest in his people, lowered his damning taxes, helped his people, protected them, and acted as a true king should. Instead, he continues to send his sheep to the wolves, then wonder why they don't have any loyalty to him."

He raised his hand, apparently wanting to strike me with his own hand, not his sword. But his swing was stopped midswing by a giant hand.

I looked up with a grin to see an angry Joshua staring at Harte with hatred. "Sorry, mate, what were you about to do to my friend?" Now that he was sober, his accent wasn't so pronounced.

Harte glared at him and hissed through clenched teeth, "I am going to teach this boy to respect his elders."

I scoffed, "I respect people who earn it. So get lost 'old man'." He couldn't have been older than 22, but he was still older than me.

Joshua threw Harte backwards several feet, and he connected with the wall. Diego stepped up beside me as I sheathed my sword, looking at my arm before sighing and shaking his head.

"Get lost, moron." Joshua growled, cracking his knuckles, "Before you find out, personally, why a claymore is a weapon far better than yer meager toothpick. I'll snap yer sword in half with me bare hands, then slice you in half with my claymore."

Harte got to his feet, sheathing his sword and glaring at me.

"And I've got a few poisoned arrows with me right now, plus, I'm sure Rogue here has a few more daggers up his sleeves." Diego chirped cheerfully.

Harte gave me another look, "This is not over, Death. That I can promise you."

"I hope not, Conquest." I replied with a wink, "Where'd be the fun in that?"

He stalked away and Joshua waited a few moments before turning to me and crossing his arms. "Seriously? If I'd a known you'd find a new, angry, friend if I threw you out the window, I woulda just locked you in the wardrobe."

I laughed as Diego poked my injury, the laugh turning to a hiss as I flinched away from him. He glared at me, "There's powder on this. If you'd like to keep your arm, you'll let me poke it."

I pointed a finger at him, "If you poke it with too many pokes, I'll poke you."

He rolled his eyes, "So threatening. I'm so scared."

I huffed, "You should be." I said with all the petulance of a child.

Diego scoffed, then looked at Joshua, "Do you mind?"

Joshua grinned at me, then picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.

"Wha- Wait! What are you doing?!" I yelled as Joshua began to walk away.

Diego walked behind us and looked up at us, "Taking you back to the inn, where I can treat you. Now, be quiet and act unconscious, or I will make Joshua knock you out."

"Why?" I hissed at him.

"Because, if people can't see your face, they won't alert the guards. And most people avoid anyone that's carrying someone else that is obviously either dead or asleep." He said. "Now, shh. You're asleep." He pressed a finger to his lips and winked at me.

I sighed, but went limp. "I don't see why I can't just wear Joshua's cloak."

"You'd be swimming in it." Diego said, his tone showing me clear as day that he was exasperated with me. "Besides, you've lost a lot of blood. I'd rather Joshua carry you then you staggered around, bleeding on everything."

I scoffed, "Fine. But you worry too much."

Diego laughed, "I worry about my friends. And that extends to you now, so get used to it."

"Alright." I consented with a sigh.

Diego ruffled my hair gently, before he began to talk to Joshua.

I just listened to them talk, and forced my body not to move. The blood ran down my arm and pooled around my fingers, before dripping to the ground. It felt weird to say the least, but I couldn't wipe it off yet. And it wouldn't do any good anyway.

My head began to throb as I swayed, so Diego was probably right about the blood loss thing. Perfect.

Next time I see Harte, I'm going to punch him in the nose. I'm sure he'd look a lot less pretty with a broken nose.

I closed my eyes and sighed; we could not get to the inn fast enough.

And I still needed to ride out today, just to see how close the marauders were to the town, and how fast I'd have to act.

Busy, busy day.