Good evening, morning or afternoon to all. PiquedIsh here with the next chapter of 'Obsession without Care.' Since this is the third instalment of the story, I figured now may be a good time to respond to a couple reviews.
Backpack Bandit: I'm glad I could subvert your expectations a little, and that you appear to be enjoying the story so far. I hope to keep the quality of writing consistent throughout the story.
Rogue-eL: He'll certainly be surprised by what Remnant has to offer. Even if the world of RWBY and Elden Ring can both be considered death worlds of sorts, the Lands Between are obviously a different beast entirely. Integrating himself into Remnant's society will be a challenge, and that's if he even bothers to do so.
NlaEid: Thank you for bringing this to my attention, perfect time to segue into explaining Summers perspective a little. Firstly I wanted to set the Remnant Timeline immediately. We're clearly years ahead of the story at this point and Summers' death does help show this, rather than me just writing it out normally. I also wanted to set the tone a little. The scene of Riachtanas leaving help show just what format for the writing of the actual story I'll be using. Summer dying cemented the tone. This won't be a particularly light story. There'll be light, jovial moments within the story, but the actual mood will be more sombre across the board.
K. God: Glad you enjoyed Riachtanas' introduction. Instead of just describing his looks -which if you may not have noticed I'm sort of keeping under wraps at the moment- I wanted to describe how Riachtanas was feeling and his sort of thought process. Hopefully I did just that.
That's all for now. Feel free to review, critique and comment. Hope you enjoy the story!
[Line Break]
Riachtanas did not sleep. He never did, really. Whether a Tarnished could truly sleep to begin with, he did not know. The closest approximation to describe the hours of stillness he went through inside the tavern room would be a self induced coma. He never dreamt, for dreaming was for the living. Tarnished were not alive. As well as they may mimic life, something that didn't die couldn't really be called 'living.' They were at best, residing within an existence. An existence perpetuated by Grace.
'Though, that does remind me, in fact. I've not come across those golden lights, those conduits of Grace. Does this land have such?'
It would be interesting if they didn't.
Shaking his head of such thoughts, the Tarnished rose from the bed, stretching his limbs to chase off the stiffness of last night's non-movement. The Felton Mayor wanted him to go and clear some 'Grimm,' of which he could only assume to be some sort of monster or aberrant beast. He idly wondered if these Grimm would resemble some monster of the Lands Between.
'I should change my state of dress. The Exile Armour is only mediocre for combat.'
He already had a set of armour in mind. And the talismans to be worn in conjunction to optimise his combat affinity. He had to limit his spending of magical energy, so that meant he would be wielding only martial armaments today. That was fine with him, he may very well be well versed in the art of magic, but that didn't mean he was without physical skill. The better a man was equipped to fight with a variety of skills, the better chance said man was to survive, in Riachtanas' mind. It wasn't a perfect chance, but it was better.
The Exile armour was stashed back into his satchel, and a new set was brought out into the open world.
The Zamor set laid across his form, tight fitting but not so much as to restrict his movements. The solid, light bronze coloured chest piece and pauldrons provided a fair defence while still allowing freedom of movement with the chainmail underneath giving adequate protection in areas not covered by plate metal. Though, he did substitute the Zamor greaves and gauntlets with those of the Raging Wolf. He preferred to keep his hide covered. The Zamor Mask stayed, however.
While it was true that Riachtanas could capably wear heavier or lighter armours, the current armaments would prove sufficient for the moment. He will gather information as to the capabilities of Grimm before deciding on what to wear in the long term.
Blessed Dew Talisman, Assassin's Cerulean Dagger, Turtle Talisman to keep his stamina in shape, and the Dragon Crest Greatshield Talisman for added defence. A solid assortment by his standards. If they were to prove ineffective, they could be swapped out at a later date.
He could pick and choose his weapon on the fly, same with his shield, if he were to use one. Riachtanas was confident in his ability to think on the fly, and simply equip whatever piece of equipment would best be suited for the situation at hand.
Exiting the tavern, Riachtanas made a beeline for Torrent. Granted he could have summoned the horse with the ring but this felt more personal. Torrent was going to be his only companion for some time, most likely. Riachtanas would like to close the gap between them, even if it was only by a little.
The beast in question stood near a post at the back of the tavern, an awning providing decent coverage from the elements, even if the night itself had not been marred by rain or such.
Upon seeing him, Torrent huffed dismissively and continued to graze at a patch of grass, the blades of green still moist from the morning dew. It was fairly early, the sun having only risen an hour ago, if Riachtanas were to estimate.
Putting a hand to Torrent's flank, he leaned his head near the horse's ear, and spoke in a crisp whisper.
"We have a quest, Torrent. Much like the days of the past. Only today, we are accompanied by other warriors. We shall be given help for our efforts. Is that not a pleasant change of pace?" He murmured.
The horse snuffed, unimpressed. Sighing, Riachtanas took his spot on Torrent's back, and steered him over to Felton's main gate, the sun flashing its new dawn light over his eyes. What few people were up and about parted for him like water around a stone, shooting him strange looks and nervous glances. It was an odd feeling, truly.
In the Lands Between, so few could be considered sane, and Riachtanas did not consider himself as such. Ranni and Blaidd, possibly. Gideon Ofnir, debatable. Varre, most certainly not. The point being, that for so many pairs of eyes to be clear, sane and filled with thought was, well, uncomfortable.
Shaking his head clear of such thoughts, Riachtanas continued on. He let the sound of Torrent's hooves thudding against the hard packed dirt road fill his ears, the sound drowning out the chatter of early morning work.
Ahead, 8 men in solid plate armour carrying spears, swords, shields and those small, crossbow-like weapons called guns. The soldiers were stationed in a rectangular formation, two men by four. One of them carried a red sash over his breastplate, denoting his status as an officer, or some equivalent of such. What surprised Riachtanas most however, was the presence of Mayor Haverdish himself. He didn't figure the man as much of a combatant. Then again, it was quite possible he was there merely to send them off.
Mayor Haverdish waved Riachtanas forward.
"Good sir! Wonderful timing, I was just about to give a full detail of today's mission, please, join us, why don't you?" Riachtanas waved back, giving a nod to the apparent officer.
"A fine morning to thee, Mayor Haverdish. Please, continue," he greeted, letting Torrent's reigns fall limp in his hands. The Mayor nodded, and gestured to the soldiers.
"Firstly, introductions. The man in the red sash is lieutenant Magnett, vice-commander of Felton's Town Guard. He'll be, ah, heading this little expedition in the forest. Lieutenant Magnett, this is Riachtanas, a traveller who's graciously offered his services in assistance with this mission." Lieutenant Magnett gave a crisp salute. Now closer to him, Riachtanas had a better look at his face.
A close cropped moustache over a pair of permanently frowning lips, with a hard bitten nose situated under two eyes that closely resembled two pale chips of ice. The bucket-like helmet atop his head stopped Riachtanas from picking up any more details.
"Lieutenant Magnett, at your service. I thank you for offering your skills to this mission," The Lieutenant introduced himself. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but Riachtanas had a feeling that the man, and indeed the rest of the squadron, were disgruntled at having Riachtanas join forces with them. Perhaps they didn't think much of him. Maybe that would change, maybe it wouldn't.
"With that out of the way, allow me to explain the mission in full. Some thirty-two hours ago, one of Felton's most senior hunters spotted large, canine-like tracks at the edge of the woods that lay 12 miles south of here. After further investigation, it has been concluded that a dozen or so Grimm have taken up residence within the area. Your job is to take an expedition into the woods, survey the situation, and if possible, deal with the Grimm," Haverdish explained, before his voice suddenly took a deadly serious tone, "However, if the number or strength of Grimm in the area proves greater than our forces can deal with, then retreat immediately. We can contact a Huntsman if we must. No heroics, Lieutenant. Give the word to your men."
"Yes sir! Alright men," Lieutenant Magnett turned, and addressed his troops, or soldiers or whatever they were, "You heard our Mayor. Stay in formation, watch your backs, and I'll have no heroes here. Is that understood?"
"Yes sir!"
"Good. Riachtanas, that, uhm, horse of yours could be of use. Once we hit the halfway point, you go ahead and act as Vanguard." Nodding, Riachtanas turned Torrent out and toward the valley. In the distance, the woods in question were situated. If he was correct in his thinking, those appeared to be the same woods he had travelled through after his interaction with- what was his name again?
Qrow, right.
Nodding, Magnett turned back to his men, and raised his fist in the air, before gesturing forth. Some sort of signal, it seemed, as the men in question began a march across the valley dirt. Each step was jointly made with the other. Simple town guard they may be, but undisciplined they were not.
The image that came to mind when Riachtanas thought of the Felton guards, was ants. That wasn't an insult, he meant it in a complimentary manner.
Ants were masters of teamwork and discipline. They had scouts, warriors and workers that toiled in unison. Instead of using individual strength to fell an enemy, they used numbers and a joint effort to bring their prey, or their adversaries down.
The Felton guards brought a similar image to mind. Individual strength giving way to collective power.
Though, the constant shifting of eyes to Torrent somewhat ruined the idea.
"Lieutenant Magnett, may I ask a question of thee?" Riachtanas asked, leaning down to the officer so as to be clearly heard. Magnett's eyebrows furrowed together, his eyes shifting over to the mask wearer. He grunted, before nodding his acquiescence. Riachtanas straightened on the horse's back, "I find myself curious, so I figured I'd ask. Is it normal to have the Mayor himself see off an expedition?"
The air got colder. Lieutenant Magnett slowly turned his head over to Riachtanas before quickly looking forward again. The soldiers behind them did similar, their eyes shooting over to Riachtanas before moving forward again. The Lieutenant spoke first, though he expected as much.
"Typically no. But this was an- extenuating circumstance. The Grimm are not a common occurrence here," He uttered simply. Humming in thought, Riachtanas' back straightened.
"Very well. Then I have another question, if thou does not mind." He heard the Lieutenant sigh, but continued with the question, "Tell me the thought process of thine armaments. Spear, sword, gun, shield. Why?"
Lieutenant Magnett huffed out a breath, unimpressed. Riachtanas heard a very quiet mutter of, 'Gods damned civilians,'
"Spears are easy to train with, keep any adversary at a distance and require little to make. Shields for use in a shield wall. Swords as a secondary weapon in the event our spear is broken or shattered. Pistols, mm, partially only for aesthetics, if I'm to be honest." Riachtanas turned his eyes to the Lieutenant at that, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. Seeing his look, Magnett continued, "We're town guards. The Captain and I both strive for discipline and efficiency, but the fact of the matter is we're not an army. Guns mean little for a village of our size, we deal with drunks, petty theft and resident disputes more often than not. But, for the sake of image, we're equipped with small arms. Though in the town itself, we mainly use batons, foregoing the spears and swords entirely."
In a way it made sense. The public were often entranced by visages of knights, splayed in full plate armour, swords shining brightly. Of course, that was nearly fantasy, in the realm of reality, said knights would be covered in dirt and grime from battle, with a myriad of weapons on their person other than a sword. But Lieutenant Magnett and the Captain, whoever he was, most likely played the image to invoke trust in their charges.
"So thine use of spears, swords and pistols today is an, how did thou put it? An extenuating circumstance?"
Magnett nodded his head, but spoke no further.
The expedition was made in relative silence from that point on. Looking up, Riachtanas admired the crystal blue sky. He didn't do this often, just admired the view. There were a few moments, yes, when he gazed upon an admirable sight. The architecture of the Lands Between was often ruined, or otherwise damaged. But that didn't take away from the impressiveness of it all. Stormveil Castle, Raya Lucaria, the Church of Vows. Each location held an ancient legacy of might, magic and faith. It was hard not to sometimes admire these places, even if only for a moment.
But this was different. The sky, being so blue, clear and free of any clouds, looked almost like an ocean. Not an ocean of Limgrave, or Gods forbid the waters of Caelid, but an actual ocean. He couldn't quite remember when he had last seen a calm, idyllic ocean, not a real one anyway. It made him wonder how the people of Felton didn't have their heads permanently turned to the sky. To him, it was almost hypnotic.
He wishes he could bring some of the others from the Lands Between here, however few had the minds stable enough to appreciate such scenery.
He could well imagine Nepheli Loux gazing at the sky, for so long and with such intensity that her eyes would grow weary. If they found another horse they could borrow she'd certainly ride with him for a moment. She had been enamoured when first meeting Torrent, impressed by the muscular beast. Not to mention incredibly disappointed when she found that she could not ride him, with Torrent bucking her off before, her flying ten feet into the air and landing hard on the ground, him giving apologetic nudges with his snout to her cheek. Must've been some hidden rule of having Torrent under your charge. He knew Melina had ridden Torrent before him.
Speaking of, he knew that Melina would enjoy this scene as well.
However long ago, months, years or aeons, Riachtanas and Melina would both sit by the little wisps of Grace, their eyes roaming over the horizon. Before everything else had been done, when she was still his Maiden, she would admit to little secrets of hers, but only in the dark of night when no other could possibly be around. She told him once that she had once wanted to be a sailor, to traverse the wild seas and meet exotic people and places. Those dreams had given way to duty, but she still liked to think about them, or so she said.
Blaidd, he too enjoyed the peace of nature. Though he spoke often of preferring heavy wooded lands, where the trees soared overhead like castle towers, and the shadows hid all the little creatures of the forest. Riachtanas later learned that Blaidd could hear it all, the squirrels gripping tree bark and the foxes shuffling in the dark. It made the most quiet of forests feel like a city street to him, all the chattering and moving and scrounging and general activity. He liked it, however. Made things feel a little more balanced, he said.
'Such a short stay here, and yet I already think back on the Lands Between as if they were a dream of a dream. Then again, they may as well be."
The thought brought a frown to his lips. The place where he heart should sit, ached.
"Riachtanas, we've reached the halfway point. That's your queue," Magnett spoke, breaking Riachtanas from his forlorn thoughts. He didn't quite feel so at peace, suddenly.
'Fighting, murder, death. When does it end?'
A resigned sigh escaped his lips, but he spurred Torrent into a soft canter anyway.
[Line Break]
As the retreating form of Riachtanas on Torrent closed the distance between himself and the forest, Lieutenant Magnett brought one of his men forward, holding a hand out towards him in waiting.
He needn't wait long as the soldier already knew what was to be done, drawing a walkie-talkie from his pack and placing it into the Lieutenant's hand. True, they could have used a scroll to do it, but walkie-talkie's tended to be hardier, and scrolls were fairly easy to compromise. Better to not take the chance.
"Come in Felton, this Lieutenant Magnett of the Felton Town Guard, reporting in, over."
'Copy that Lieutenant, Captain Ricket here. You sent him ahead then? Over.'
"Affirmative. Everything's proceeding as scheduled, over."
'Copy that. Keep an eye on the target until contact with the Headmaster has been made, over.'
Responding in the affirmative, Lieutenant Magnett gave the walkie-talkie back to the soldier, and gazed out to the distance, where the shape of a man on horseback slowly began to get just that little bit smaller.
The plan was a hastily made yet no less thought out one. The Mayor had received an email at approximately nineteen hundred hours, or seven o'clock at night, from the Valean Huntsman Service regarding the apprehension of a rogue element with 'Huntsman-like capabilities.' The rogue element in question matched was described as wearing a red cloak over leather and metal armour.
Whether he knew it or not, Riachtanas had already made waves, and brought the attention of other forces down on himself. After his victory over Qrow, the report received from him to Headmaster Ozpin had been deemed serious enough that it be brought to the attention of the VHS, a council of sorts that presided over any Huntsman matter, especially ones of an 'internal nature.'
The Grimm mission itself was quite real, the Mayor couldn't quite fake that. But this way, Riachtanas, or whatever his name may or may not be, would be distanced from Felton whilst the Mayor received support from the VHS. In a few hours, a couple of Huntsman would be brought to their little town, with orders to bring Riachtanas in for questioning. He, as far as anyone knew, hadn't committed anything worth killing him over. Still, Magnett supposed that anything could happen in a fight amongst Remnant's stronger men and women.
That was another reason to keep Riachtanas away from Felton, so that the engagement between two or more Huntsman would be delegated to the valley itself, rather than Felton proper.
[Line Break]
His eyes scanning the tree line, Riachtanas observed everything from the bark of the trees to the soft ground underneath. Torrent stood a few feet behind him, ears perked for any signs of danger. Riachtanas meanwhile was kneeling on one knee, observing a footprint, of sorts.
Vaguely canine in nature, it was the size of his head, with elongated toes that led to vicious claws, if the marks at the end of each toe print were anything to go by. It was one print of half a dozen, all situated near the tree line. These Grimm had seemed unable or unwilling to set foot onto the valley, and Riachtanas could understand why. The valley offered little cover, being mostly flat barring a few shallow hills and dips in the earth. Either they didn't have the numbers or were waiting for an opportune moment. Both possibilities rankled him.
Standing, and brushing off the dirt from his palms, Riachtanas seamlessly slipped from the ground to Torrent's back, taking the reins in hand before spurring the horse onward, setting the pace to a steady jog. The formation of soldiers would quickly appear in the distance -he hadn't travelled all that far- and then he would be able to give his report, a strange but not totally unfamiliar feeling. He had given reports before, at least verbally. Ranni, came to mind. Though he shook off that line of thought rather quickly.
"And what of thee, Torrent? What thoughts lie behind thy eyes?" He muttered, peering down at his equine companion. Torrent turned his head, for a moment seeming to watch the woods as well. He then turned his head frontwards, giving a derisive snort. Riachtanas gave a quiet chuckle, "Yes, I suppose so."
Looking ahead, the steadfast forms of the Felton guard came into sight, and steadily grew bigger, with Lieutenant Magnett standing at the forefront, spear in hand.
Once they were less than fifty yards from each other, Riachtanas pulled to a stop, raising a hand in greeting. The Lieutenant stepped forward, and gave his own wave, near dismissive as it was.
"Riachtanas, anything to report?" He nodded at the soldier, and gestured to the trees.
"Half a dozen foot prints, all canine in likeness. None of them step more than twenty yards out of the shadows of the woods," he replied.
The Lieutenant hummed in thought, running a hand over his chin with a considering look on his face.
"Canine, you said? Most likely Beowolves, pretty common Grimm. Pack fiends that they are, I'm not surprised that they've apparently started grouping together. Alright, we'll take a wander in and see what the forest holds. Alright men, in formation! We march in my mark. And- MARK!" Magnett barked, the men behind him stamping one foot upon the ground in unison, stepping forward with renewed vigour.
The march to the trees was a far more tense affair. The soldiers in their armour formed a strong glint that was visible across the valley. Riachtanas stayed quiet this time around, shifting his satchel to be closer to his right hand. At a moment's notice, he would draw a weapon with the speed of lightning, technique honed after too many battles and just as many deaths lending his body into a steel trap.
The shadows of the forest soon overtook them, lending the air a cold vibe. Every muscle in every man's body was pulled taut, eyes steering left and right, the smallest crevice facing a quick inspection. Grimm were beasts that no one could take a chance with, their very anatomy, capabilities and behaviour unnatural.
The ground dipped up ahead, before leading to yet another shallow hill. The green grass underfoot had given way to mulch some time ago. Riachtanas leant forward to Torrent's ear.
"Does thou sense anything? Are we alone, or are we being watched?" He questioned. Torrent's ear flicked in his direction, head tilting left and right. Well, an extra pair of eyes roaming for danger never hurts.
The formation pulled to a stop, Magnett inspecting a tree. Across the bark, as high as a man's shoulders, a trio of claw marks were bitten into the tree, fresh sap still dripping from the open wound.
The formation, without orders given, formed a semicircle around the same tree. Riachtanas dropped down from Torrent's back and reached a hand into his satchel. Everyone had the same thought, this had been a trap. Which for those in the know, was concerning. Only specific Grimm, the Alpha Grimm, had the intelligence to form traps and plan ahead.
And they fell for it, hook, line and sinker. The claw marks were simply there for the silly humans to flock to.
And they'd done exactly that.
Flitting past the trees were pitch black forms, heavy paws landing down on the mulch floor with hefty thuds. The Felton guard's spears were positioned forward, their sharp points resting at chest height. Riachtanas dismounted Torrent and covered their rear, finally pulling out his hand from the satchel.
Two notched, bloody sabres were gripped tight in his hands. He'd prefer to change a couple talismans to optimise their use, but they'd do for now.
The first Grimm, a Beowolf, Lieutenant Magnett called it, stepped forward with a horrid snarl. Fur as dark as tar covered its body, but that did not fully hide the awful thing's muscular body. A pair of hateful, crimson eyes glared at him from behind a skull-like mask, completely the ensemble of a thing made only to main the human body. This one in particular only came to about chest height, but Riachtanas could observe larger shadows flying through the trees around them.
"Men, stay tight! Riachtanas, cover our rear and warn us immediately if any Grimm in numbers of three or more try to flank us!" Lieutenant Magnett ordered. Riachtanas decided not to answer, even though he heard the Lieutenant quite clearly. Instead he focused his energy strictly to the beast in front of him.
Speaking of, the Beowolf in question took a predatory step forward, lips curled back in a mockery of a grin, showing teeth far too large for a normal creature.
Riachtanas took a stance, one sabre pointed forward whilst the other rested on his shoulder, knees bent and body low to the ground. The Beowolf charged first, claws digging into the earth as it did, spraying earth and soil behind it.
The first swing made, however, was from Riachtanas, left hand being the blade down in a curved swing that left a gash deep in the beast's chest. It roared in pain, or whatever these things felt, and tried to bring one clawed hand down on Riachtanas' head.
The quick witted man rolled under it, flanking the Grimm and bringing both blades down the black beasts back. Its roar was little more than a gargling whimper as it fell, the creature falling limp to the ground.
Later, Riachtanas would wonder about the beast's most interesting death, its form dusting into the air like a plume of smoke.
For now, however, he would merely consider the approaching Grimm ahead of him. Three of them, in fact.
"Lieutenant, those three Grimm thou wanted to be warned of, well they hath appeared," Riachtanas called, side-eyeing the soldiers behind him and pursing his lips at the sight. Unfortunately they were preoccupied, a duo of Grimm, both taller than the one he just faced, had barreled into the shield wall. The soldiers' spears pierced their hide, keeping them at bay, for the moment.
He'd let them be, they were busy.
Looking back at the Beowolves that had flanked them, Riachtanas twirled one sabre, loosening the muscles in his arm. Three on one odds were possible.
The centre most Beowolf sprinted for, followed closely by his left and right counterparts.
Ducking and weaving to the right, Riachtanas leaped over a swipe that would have removed another man's head. He made to make a counter attack, but another Beowolf circumvented the first and leapt at him, hands outstretched towards Riachtanas.
Cursing, he stepped back, ducking under the attack and dragging a sabre across the Grimm's underbelly. His blades flashed, and drew two, deep lines across another Beowolf's chest, his right hand twisting and thrusting the point of the sabre in its skull.
Speeding on all fours, the other two Grimm moved in a rough pincer movement, attacking from both sides with a terrible demand for gore. Gritting his teeth, Riachtanas ducked, and stashed the Scavenger Blade's back into the satchel. With a heave, a colossal sword longer than a man was tall was dragged from the satchel and cleaved into the two Grimm, one falling to the dirt in two pieces, whilst the other screeched in agony as its left arm fell near its feet.
With a wide swing that had, in the past, taken down far more ferocious beasts, the Grimm's head dropped to the ground with an indecent thump.
The Troll's Golden Sword dripped with a black ichor, the closest approximation to blood these Grimm seemed to have. Its blade appeared vile, in Riachtanas' opinion, the ichor disintegrating into a black smoke across its edge. He decided then and there that he hated Grimm.
Turning to the soldiers of Felton, he was fairly pleased to see that they had taken down one of the Beowolves, no less than three spears jabbed into its skin whilst its compatriot was being fought back, sword sticking out of its shoulder like a thorn. He needn't wait long for the guards to finish it off, a spear jamming its way through the wolf-like creature's throat, the men dragging it down and swarming it. Aggressive, maybe, but understandable. They probably hated Grimm as much as he did, most likely more since they had to deal with them before.
Lieutenant Magnett, swordless, he noticed, waved Riachtanas over, before clutching his arm with a grimace. One of the guards approached with a hasty salute, and handed over a pack of some sorts to the Lieutenant. It appeared to be a first aid kit.
"Lieutenant, I see thy is well, relatively."
"Hmph. Yes, I suppose I am. And you're well, too. Where'd the hell you get that pig sticker of yours?" He asked, gesturing to Riachtanas' weapon with a raised eyebrow. Looking at the Troll's Golden Swordm, Riachtanas peered back at the Lieutenant with -even if Magnett couldn't see it- an honest face.
"From my satchel," He answered truthfully.
". . . Ah."
"Mhm. How are thy men?" Riachtanas asked, looking at the dishevelled but otherwise healthy looking soldiers in front of him. Covered in dirt, and most likely bruised underneath their armour, the soldiers still kept to formation, vigilant. Lieutenant Magnett gave his men the once over, even though he most likely already did so, but the man seemed the cautious sort.
"They're well enough. Only one who's really injured is me, embarrassingly enough. Sprained elbow, but that's about it. You?" He questioned. It could have been the rise and now slow fall of adrenaline from the quick but no less intense battle, but the Lieutenant had an odd look on his face, lips drawn into a thin line and his eyes squinting at Riachtanas.
"I am in good health. Nothing to concern thyself with. What is thine plan now?"
Sighing, the Lieutenant observed the woods around them, and gave an aggravated groan.
"Beowolves aren't typically all that smart without an Alpha. This had been a trap, and we fell for it. Leave a sign of Grimm, have us investigate and attack while we're doing so. We'd best leave, Alpha Grimm are a bit much for eight town guards, even with your assistance I'd rather not risk it. We'll recuperate here and then move out when we're done." Riachtanas nodded, the Lieutenant's plan making sense. If nothing else he could take this moment to check over his talismans and equipment.
Taking a seat near under a tree, Riachtanas laid the Troll's Golden Sword over his lap, and he lowered his head to rest a moment, idly wondering where Torrent had decided to go.
[Line Break]
Mayor Haveridish laid a glass of brandy in front of him, the brown, transparent liquid sloshing around in its receptacle. In his hand was another such glass, filled with brandy as well. The liquor itself was an old brand, not so expensive or as high class as some others may have, but it was still a respectable drink, in his opinion, and the Huntress in front of him didn't seem to mind.
Lucia Adel raised the drink in thanks and took a sip, letting the burning liquid flow down her throat. Brushing some of her chocolate brown hair from her face, the imposing woman gestured for the Mayor to talk.
"Well, firstly, thank you again for coming on such short notice. I understand that Huntress' and Huntsman such as yourself often have more pressing matters to attend to." Lucia gave a good natured chuckle, smiling hazel eyes peering at the older man from behind a pair of single rim glasses. "Eight of the town guards, one of them our Lieutenant, took him out to sort out a small Grimm problem. Manageable, as far as we know. It's kept Riachtanas out of town, and so you should have an easier time confronting him."
"That's for the best, no matter what I'd prefer to keep this out of town, limits the possibility of property damage and civilian casualties. Can you tell me more about the man in question? Anything I should know about?" She questioned, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the desk. The Mayor hummed in thought, thinking on the question. He went to a drawer in his desk and pulled out a report, leafing through its pages with a considerate expression on his face.
"Well, this report here was made by all the people who interacted with him. One of the guards stationed at the gate had been the one to lead him to me. Something of note is the man's horse. Odd creature, unlike any other horse I've ever seen, it has a pair of horns atop its head, similar to a bulls. And this morning, his armour and clothing were completely different from the night before. I know not where he kept it, but he's always been seen with a satchel at his waist," Haveridish reported, handing over the report. Lucia took it, skimming through the pages with a hum.
"A horse with horns. That is weird. Alright, I'll read through this, and then head out to the woods. Will your men be in any danger?" She asked. Haverdish shook his head.
"Unlikely. They're all aware of the situation, and have been supplied with small arms just in case. They've also been commanded to give no less than a 100 yard distance between you and Riachtanas both." She nodded thankfully.
"Perfect. Okay, I'll get to it. Don't worry Mayor, I'll sort this guy out. Thank you for your assistance and cooperation."
[Line Break]
The rest was short, not even an hour. Riachtanas heard a couple grumbles, but nothing more. They were probably used to this. Lieutenant Magnett mentioned that both he and the captain, whoever he was, both appreciated discipline. And they seemed to instil as much in their men.
Whistling into the air, Riachtanas turned on the spot, wondering where Torrent was. He didn't dismiss the beast, but he seemed to have wandered off. Well, whatever, he'd return. He thought.
Sighing, Riachtanas stood, resting the Troll's Golden Sword on his shoulder, trekking with the formation of men on his left. It was a silent walk, with neither Magnett nor Riachtanas bothering to speak much. From his best guess, Riachtanas estimated that it was midday, maybe an hour before. He was surprised by how long they had been out of town, but decided not to think about it.
To his right, he saw an equine shaped form galloping back and forth across the grasslands, the odd neigh or whinny catching Riachtanas' ear. Well, he found Torrent, and he seemed to be enjoying himself. That was good.
"Men- HALT!" Magnett barked.
The formation stopped. Riachtanas' head whipped around to gaze at the soldiers. Their faces were set in stone, completely unyielding. What had happened?
Magnett called out another order, and the soldiers turned to Riachtanas, raised their shields and took one step after another, backwards. The Troll's Golden Sword found itself gripped in both hands. His eyes narrowed at the assortment of men in front of him. Magnett glared back, just behind the shield wall with his wounded arm in a hastily made sling.
"Will thou give me the minimal respect of telling me what is happening?" He asked, voice a deadly whisper that promised retribution if the wrong step was taken by the squad before him.
"You don't need to worry about that!" A feminine voice called out. He saw a woman, dressed in a long brown jacket with gold trimming over a white dress shirt, her black pants tucked into sturdy, dark brown boots. In one hand was a sword with a basket hilt, single edged and with a straight blade. She wore a cocky grin under her single rim glasses.
[Line Break]
Lucia observed the target.
Riachtanas, of Limgrave. Suspected of association with the untimely death of Summer Rose, carrying a big ass sword and wearing some old looking armour.
'Weird guy', she thought.
"Should I assume, then, that thou was sent here from Felton?" He asked, turning that same big ass sword towards her. She barked out a laugh, a hand coming up to her face, totally incredulous.
"Sorry, I just- I have never heard anyone speak like that. Where the hell did you blow in from? I haven't even heard of this 'Limgrave' place, is it even real? Can't be, surely." She shook her head, still amazed in an astonished sort of way. "Anyway, listen here, you're under arrest. A few of the higher ups want to have a little chat with you regarding Summer Rose-"
"No."
". . . Wow, just like that. Alright, I guess we're doing this," Lucia said. She rolled her shoulder, Lucky Dzek's handle comfortable in her grip. The blade flashed as she gave a few preparatory swings. She smirked at Riachtanas. "Now get over here, assho-"
The knight looking bastard moved like a beast, body low to the ground. The colossal sized sword in his hands was thrusted forward with the force of a truck. Lucia's confidence plummeted a little.
'Oh shit . . .'