"Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen." – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Smoke from the tip of my cigarette softly floats through the night's gentle air. The taste of unrefined tobacco floods my mouth as I take a big drag and exhale. However, it cannot soothe the extreme annoyance I am currently feeling right now.
"You're surrounded! We got ten men here! You have no chance, so just tell us where the kids are, and we may let you go, for now!" One of the marauders yells at me.
I remain quiet and continue puffing on my cigarette as I try to savor every last bit of nicotine. Someone had the bright idea of taking the kids out into the forest at night. Supposedly, it would help them strengthen their depth perception since fighting can break out at any time, and it was my responsibility as well Alois's to watch over them in case something like this happened.
Despite my warnings this would happen, no one ever listens to me. Although my rank is below Alois's, he listens. I told him to take our protection detail to go save the kids while I dealt with this. He didn't question because he knew I'd just lit up.
Leave it to the people who don't know how the world works to make the decisions. Nobility at its finest. Sometimes I hate being their fool, but I get paid to be a weapon regardless, and it's my obligation to see the will through. No matter how demeaning or stupid it is.
I intently listen and calculate how many men there truly are. He said ten. This bandit seriously needs to learn how to count, because I hear thirteen. eight with swords, two spearmen, an axe wielder, a horseback rider, and an archer.
I take one last drag on my cigarette and enjoy the ephemeral solace before spitting it out onto the ground. I place my thumb on the guard of my sword and press forward. The sheathe clicks and releases the blade.
"I'd put both hands on that little dagger!" The marauder yells as they close in.
The sound of an arrow being notched against the bow string hits me in the ears as the drawstring causes the wooden longbow to tense up and crinkle. Wood grinding against wood pierces the night as the feather fletching offers a faint suppression as the arrow bolts off the bow and heads directly toward me.
I draw my sword and slice to my right side. The black steel of my blade cuts the arrow in half as I spin around flick my wrist. A doubled edged throwing knife ejects from my left gauntlet. I catch the handle and throw it at the archer with one clean movement.
The knife hits the man directly in the neck. He grabs his throat and falls over as he gargles and chokes on his own blood. The surprise of the counter attack leaves all of my foes in shock as they all turn around and gaze at their dying comrade.
As they hesitate to come to terms with what just happened, I replace the sword in its sheathe, rush forward and calmly pull the blade back out. The black steel cuts through the leather as if they were paper armor, and three men fall to the ground with blood spurting from their exposed chests.
I bring the sword back around and cut vertically. The weapons catches the axe wielder in the shoulder and cuts his arm completely off. He screams in agony as he falls to the ground, trying to clench what he no longer has.
"Bastard!" One of the spearmen yells as he rushes at me.
He jabs at me with the tip. I raise my leg up and stomp the spear into the ground. He stumbles forward and falls to his knees. I lean to the side, and the tip of another spear slides beside me. His blade buries itself all the way to the prongs as the man in front coughs and falls over. I spin the sword around and stab behind me. My attacker yells in pain as I reposition my hands and yank up, splitting him open from his stomach to his shoulder.
"Come on! He's just one man! Get in there and kill him!" I hear the man on the horse yell as his animal rears back and charges at me.
I re-sheathe the black steel sword and reach around back for my claymore. It slides out of the custom scabbard as I bring it around and deflect the incoming jab from the horseman's lance. The weight of the claymore overpowers the lance, and the man loses his balance. I smack the horse in the butt with the flat end of the blade. It violently neighs and throws the man off the horse as it runs off into the woods.
I raise the claymore and ram it through the man's chest. The remaining five wielding swords rush me all at once. I weave in and out of their attacks and look for an opportunity to strike. One man blindly swings at me. I deflect an attack with poor technique, and he falls to the ground. His weapon flies out of his hand as I slash sideways and take out three more of my attackers.
The last man attempts to run off. I rear back and chunk the claymore at him. The weapon spirals through the air and drives itself all the way up to the hilt. The man let's out a small grunt of surprise as he hits the ground. I take my black steel sword back out and flip it upside down.
The man I knocked down is back up and trying to grab a sword. I rush forward and drag the blade across his gut as he half heartedly swings and misses. I spin around behind him as he falls to the ground. He's had enough, but even if I did spare him, he'd just bleed out and suffer. I ram the blade through his back. He flinches from the impact before falling face down. I pull the blade out and flick it. Dots of crimson form a perfect line along the bare ground as the sword spits all the blood off its black body. I spin it around and drag the sword across the fur of my left gauntlet before sticking it back in the sheathe.
One of the men uses the broken shaft of a spear to work himself up to his knees. His breath is laced with painful groaning as he attempts to stand. Despite his determination, he can't get past kneeling. I walk back over to where I spit my cigarette out. It's been trampled by someone's foot, and the river of blood flooding out the bodies have completely stained it red.
I let out a disappointed sigh and reach into my side satchel. The spare was supposed to be for tomorrow since the merchant I buy my tobacco, paper and matches from only comes by the church once a week, and that's if he can smuggle it in. Otherwise, I'll have to walk to the village nearby.
I stick the cigarette into my mouth and place a sulfur tipped match against a piece of gritty sandpaper. The sulfur ignites and lets out a small flame as I stick it up to my cigarette and light the tip. Smoke from the freshly rolled tobacco rolls down my tonsils and fills my chest with bittersweet heat.
"That black steel sword… that must mean you are the…son of the obsidian wolf. I thought she was just a myth. A scary story people told their children…but you…you really are her…pup."
I remain silent as I yank the throwing dagger out of the archer's throat, wipe it off on his leather armor and put it back in the hollowed-out recess in my gauntlet. The man is still going on and on about the Obsidian wolf. Although all of this is old news to me. Every bandit or marauder that managed to survive his injuries long enough to talk tells me the same story. Most of it is true to some extent.
Although they always miscount how men she killed. Most say four battalions in her lifetime. I'd say more like eight. Even I don't know the exact number, and I spent fifteen years of my life with her.
"If you would have told us you were her son, then we would have left you and the kids alone. Why didn't you tell us?"
I continue my silence as I pull my claymore out of the man that tried to run away. It's definitely going to need a polish after this because the entire blade is coated red. I swing the weapon around and get most of the blood off before rubbing both sides off on my cloak. What's left of the red fluid seeps into the cloth.
I fling the claymore around and stick it back in my shielded red oak back scabbard. The blade catches the bevels and slides down into the channel as it returns to its normal position.
"Nothing personal, you just interrupted my smoke break." I reply.
The man let's out a hysterical laugh as I hear his body hit the ground with a loud thump. Now all that's left to do is catch up with Alois. The horse I smacked early comes out of the woods and walks in my direction.
"Easy there boy." I say as I gently approach the horse. The animal doesn't seem moved or startled as I carefully inch my way towards him.
The horse lets out a snort and continues walking in my direction. I reach out, and the horse leans his head forward. Despite belonging to a marauder, it's relatively tame and use to human interaction.
"That's right. You're calm, I'm calm. Everyone is calm." I say as I ease to the side and test the animal's patience by stepping into the stirrup.
I throw my leg over and saddle up. The animal is still calm as I give him a gentle spur. Hitting him too hard might aggravate him, so I'll take it easy until he gets adjusted to me. I reach down and rub the side of his neck, "Good boy, or girl. Whatever you are."
I can't really see what color the horse truly is, but it appears to have a gold coat. Even the face is solid gold. Most horses have some kind painted face, but this one doesn't have any kind of marking or spots anywhere as far as I can tell.
However, deciding gender, and the color of this animal isn't important. Although they are all important, the daughter of the Emperor is the priority. Mainly because it was my turn to protect her. Although the kid can protect herself, it still doesn't free me from my obligation.
I give the horse another gentle spur, and he ascends into a trot. Okay, let's retrace the steps: I was minding my own business, fixing to light up, I was talking to Alois, and my life before I became a sword saint. Then he asked why Rhea denied me knighthood, but I didn't comment on why.
That's when Alois and I were confronted by the fools back there, and I told him to take the detail and find those kids. The last I seen them; they were heading west. I look up at the sky, find the northern star and use it as a beacon to guide myself.
Off in the distance, I can see the faint glow of torches, and the outline of houses take shape as I get closer. The fallen bodies of marauders and some knights litter the ground below me as I slow the horse down. Barging out of the woods at full speed will only get me an arrow to the face, or a pike driven into the horse.
I slide off the horse and lead the animal by the reins into the clearing. Up ahead, I can see Alois and a couple of the knights talking to a grizzled man and some boy. With the way Alois is talking to them, it appears that he knows him on a personal level.
As for the boy, he has a rather unique appearance. His hair color is a very dark shade of green. He's wearing a black coat that covers his matching armor. A gold girdle snugly secures his entire outfit together. He's even got an elegant looking dagger resting in a blue sheathe mounted on the front part of his belt.
His eyes however, are the most striking feature he has. Despite having the glow of unpolished sapphires, they are really unique looking. Almost like someone took a chisel and carved lines deep into his retinas.
"Well look who decided to show up." A sarcastic voice states as I bring the horse over.
"Better late than never." I reply as I snuff my cigarette out, put it away and bow before the woman I'm in charge of protecting. "Your Majesty, forgive me. I was occupied with a group of marauders and was unable to ensure your safety."
She reaches out and touches my shoulder, "You have nothing to apologize for Artorias. None of us got hurt, and that's all that matters."
I look up into her violet eyes and she nods. That means all is forgiven, and I'm allowed to return to my feet. Future Adrestian Emperor Edelgard is the only one out of the three house leaders that truly understands my dedication to them and their safety.
Prince Dimitri, the next ruler of the kingdom of Fargheus has yet to grasp the level of dedication one must have to ensure that his life does not fall into the hands of his enemies. I understand the man needs time to himself, and he receives that time within the walls of a protected area, but Rhea commanded that he is not to be alone outside unless he is escorted by some kind of protection detail.
The one I butt heads with the most is the eventual leader of the Leicester Alliance, Claude. My ways are nothing like his. He claims that I am blindly obedient to those in power. That I'm nothing more than a sword, and that I don't value my life. That's none of his concern if I value my life or not. My sole purpose in this world is to uphold the morals and standards my mother set forth for me.
"So how many men did you kill? Eight?" Claude asks as he looks at place where I wiped the blood off onto my cloak.
"Thirteen. I even brought Edelgard a peace offering." I reply.
"That is very kind of you Artorias, but take care of him for me."
"If it is the wishes of the future emperor, then I have no choice but to accept."
"What if we all converged and told you to stop smoking?" Claude teases as I pull my burnt cigarette back out and strike a match.
"Not a chance."
"Seriously. You should consider the health risks. Inhaling smoke can't be good for you." Dimitri states as I flick the match off, take a huge breath and release a thick cloud of white smoke.
"Yeah well, that's a price I'm willing to pay." I reply as I turn my attention to the guest of our group.
"Artorias, this is Byleth. Him and his father saved us when we got ambushed by those bandits." Claude states.
The both of us reach out firmly grab each other's forearm and shake as we look each other straight in the eye. Normally eye contact really unnerves people for some reason. This fellow however has no fear in his eyes. In fact, his eyes do nothing but radiate strength and confidence.
"Nice to meet your acquaintance Sir Artorias."
"The feeling is mutual." I answer as the both of us release each other's arm.
"I like your swords."
"Thank you."
"Where did you get them?" Byleth asks.
"This one belonged to mother before she passed it down to me. As for the claymore, she helped me forge it from raw ore."
"You know how to smith?" Dimitri interrupts.
"I know a thing or two. It was a hobby of hers, and she found great joy in teaching me her ways of forging as well as Fodlan's."
"So how long did the claymore take?" Dimitri asks.
"About two months. Since we were nomads, we were constantly on the move and most villages didn't have water mills for power tools, so I had to draw the blade and tang out by hand while mother gathered the materials for the hilt, handle, pommel and scabbard."
I pull the claymore out and hand it to Byleth. He gets a firm grip on it and gives it a couple practice swings to test the weight and balance. Most people usually fumble around with it because of the hefty weight and sizable blade. Yet, this man swings it as if it were just a regular sword.
He holds it up and stares into the dried Damascus steel and examines it from hilt to tip. His eyes brush over the foreign symbols and a puzzled look comes to his face, "What's this?" Byleth asks.
"It's the sword's name."
"Interesting. I don't know many people who name their weapons." He hands the weapon back and I slide it back into my back scabbard. Normally, I'd be very skeptical of someone who can just wave a sword around like that, but something about this guy seems… special. I don't know what.
"Anyway, I don't have anything to give you for your trouble right now, but if you come to Garreg Mach with us, I'll make it worth your while since you saved the kids." I state.
"How many times do I have to tell you this, we aren't kids." Claude snaps as I step into the stirrup and balance myself on the saddle.
"Really? Because I couldn't tell between a three-year-old and you." I chuckle as I take the cigarette stump from my mouth and flick it out towards the woods.
"Such a joker! Anyway, you are coming to the monastery with us?" Claude asks Byleth.
Byleth causally nods his head, "Yes."
"Good." I reply as I spur the horse and begin my way back to Garreg Mach. Claude, Dimitri and Edelgard take the lead while I keep my eyes open for any potential threats or dangers. Byleth hesitates for a moment as we all get a lead. I stop to look around, but the moment I do, he picks up the pace and walks right beside me.
Up ahead, I can see the other knights including Alois, and a rough cut looking fellow with scars all over his face. He's certainly seen his fair share of battles. By the way Alois is talking to him, and the way the man seems somewhat annoyed, it appears they knew each other in the past.
"So that man up there. That your father?" I ask.
"That's what I've called him my whole life. I don't really know if it is or not."
"I see. Well I understand being raised by someone that's like your real parent, but isn't." I reply as we continue onward…