Chapter 5: In the Eye of the Falcon

3 Years Later

Daniel Theisman, the wandering Midnight Dragon, gazed at their next castle, which one specifically didn't matter terribly much, and sighed quietly. They had, even with his previous notoriety, somehow managed to disappear into the host of Tudor forces that they had now accompanied for some time. It was something of a miracle, considering that Guts still had his trademark sword, and Daniel his trademark… well, everything.

The war, as it were, had dragged out once again, another stalemate developing as the Tudor Empire responded to the backswing that Midland had given them. It would be another several long, bloody years.

Not that he absolutely had to dwell on such high-level things, at least anymore. Now, all he had to worry about was keeping one person safe. Even if he didn't really need the help.

Guts was focused on where they were all assigned, underneath a battering ram going towards the main gates of the castle, his fairly comprehensive armor a far cry from most other mercenaries there, save for a few of the more well-off ones and Daniel's. His helmet had been expanded and revised, the bottom edge covering the front of the boy's neck while he wore a proper chestplate along with pieces that covered all of his arms and legs. It was just shy of being full plate.

And it would serve its uses, he thought, as the ram settled into place, Daniel grabbing a hold of it and ignoring the thudding of thrown rocks and the hissing of boiling water as he helped shove the ram into the gate once, then again, then again, those that weren't actively helping smash the doors open huddling as best they could behind shields, theirs or their companions, to stay protected from any stray crossbow bolts or arquebus shots.

Finally, they were through, the gate crashing open as the ram was set aside, the men charging in around some general or another on horseback. "Go on! Whoever brings me the general's head will have however much reward he desires!"

Daniel and Guts simply found themselves part of the stream of other mercenaries and soldiers, stabbing and slashing intermittently at those soldiers who managed to break into the stream enough. Soon, they were on the outer edge, their weapons growing bloodier still. Guts in particular drove forward with an unprecedented ferocity compared to most others, his sword felling man after man that got within his reach.

He'd changed over the last three years. Grew harder. Harsher, in some ways. Untrusting of anyone who wasn't in a position to immediately benefit him, and only then while that benefit was evident. He wouldn't even let anyone touch him suddenly. The only exception was him. He wondered how long that would last. He mourned silently, as he ran through a Midlandian soldier, that it lasted any length of time at all.

He realized, however, that such a time was likely soon coming to an end as he saw the men in front of them begin to clutter around something. Around someone. Two someones, actually.

One of the men was a rather rotund sort in sparsely decorated grey plate armor, his helmet seemingly little more than an overturned pot with holes for eyes and breathing. He wielded a massive ax, the other end spiked and the grip at the end sporting a seemingly unnecessary guard. His companion, on the other hand, wore somewhat sleeker, nearly black armor, though was no less tall than his companion, his helmet sporting a stylized raptor beak and a massive greatsword in his hands.

'Two for the price of one.' Daniel mused as their company commander, a Tudor knight placed in charge of them, made his way forward. 'It's almost like this world was expecting me. Or was this gent always here, just somewhere else?'

He heard the whispers amongst the other mercenaries. "That's Bazuso and Jerod. The 30-Man Killer and the Omen Crow. They've killed almost a hundred men just by themselves. We don't have a chance."

"Where are the archers?" the knight said to one of the regulars mixed into the crowd.

"They're still outside the gate, sir." the man he asked replied.

Bazuso gave a deep, hearty laugh. "No one's getting past us! Not in one piece, at least."

The pile of bodies at their feet testified to their effectiveness. "Step right up!" Jerod shouted, letting an arm sweep wide. "Come on and get your heads taken off!"

The knight who led the attackers shouted in disgust. "Come on. Charge! Take their heads and become famous!"

The muttering and shuffling around them made Daniel sure that no one else was going to take up the challenge.

"Daniel."

He looked over at Guts, who looked back at him. "Who do you want?"

Daniel considered the question for only a moment. "I'll take care of Jerod, the man with the sword. You can have Bazuso."

"Alright."

With that, they began to push their way through the crowd, Daniel lagging slightly to allow Guts to come out of the ring of people first. The boy's emergence caused murmuring to ripple from the collected mercs.

"What, a boy?" one asked. "Look at his sword." another said in apparent awe. "It's huge."

"He's going to try and actually swing that thing?" still another scoffed. "He's just going to make a fool of himself and get killed."

"Lad…" the knight said, shaking his head in amazement. "Are you saying you'll somehow beat the two of them… alone?"

"How much?"

A shocked gasp went up from the mercs, and even Bazuso and Jerod couldn't help but shake their heads in amazement. "My boy…" the knight stuttered.

"You heard what he asked," Daniel said as he made his way to Guts' side. "How much for the both of them?"

"We're not knights, after all." Guts interjected. "We live on money, not glory."

The knight was taken aback. "If you two manage it… five pieces of gold each."

"Come on," Guts said with a roll of his eyes. "Ten, at least."

"Seven each, and not one coin more! If you don't die."

"Daniel?"

Daniel looked around, searching for the one who called his name, but the voice was lost in a sea of helmeted faces. "That's the Midnight Dragon!" the voice called again, and the name stirred the mercs around him to mutter again. This time, the voices were tinged with hope.

"Midnight Dragon or not," Jerod said as Daniel began to circle him, readying his swordspear, "you're not going to do much of anything with that overwrought spear in your hands."

"You'll test that assumption and fail," Daniel replied as he surged forward with a jab towards the dark knight's neck, Jerod partying away the blow by the barest of margins as the tip scratched the shoulder plate.

As this transpired, Guts scoffed at the offer. "Cheapskate," he muttered to himself as he stepped toward Bazuso.

The man chuckled. "A whole seven gold pieces just to get your head smashed in, kid. You must be as desperate as the Tudors seem to be. Or maybe they're just cowards, hiding behind brats-"

Guts' only reply was to swing out at the knight with a speed that surprised Bazuso and the crowd around him, the ax Bazuso wielded barely coming up in time to block the downward chop.

Guts followed up with a flurry of blows that slammed into armor or haft more often than not, denting the armor where they struck.

And as the strikes continued to come, Bazuso, much to the crowd's amazement, took a step back. Then another.

As the fight beside them raged on, Daniel maneuvered Jerod's blade into the dirt, putting a boot on it and shifting his grip to below the crossguard as he aimed for the man's right arm.

The blade, just barely humming from the energy being unshackled within it, sliced across the top of the man's arm at an open gap as Jerod tried to twist his sword out from under Daniel's foot.

He heard Jerod shout as his blade came away bloody, and the knight's hand slipped off the hilt of the greatsword, causing it to drop slightly before the man steadied his grip.

Daniel stepped back and allowed the knight to awkwardly raise his sword in one hand, dodging the wild swings and stabs that came after with ease. Training with Guts had made such one-handed strikes as this knight inexperienced with the weight easy to read as he glanced over at the boy, the both of them pausing for a moment as they watched the duel beside them.

Bazuso, it seemed, had finally had enough of retreating, swinging his ax to try and cut Guts in half. Guts put up a block just in time, the force of the strike sending the blade biting into the ax head, much to the shock of everyone involved.

Bazuso extracted the frankly ruined ax from being stuck to Guts' sword, and the pair stepped back and paused for a moment, Guts readying a swing as Bazuso swung again with a roar of desperation.

Guts charged into the swing, leaning away as the ax struck his helmet, shattering as it sent it flying. But Guts' blade bit deep into Bazuso's side, breaching the armor and sending a spray of blood flying out with the force of it.

Everyone was in shock as Bazuso went to his knees once the sword was out of his side, his now useless weapon dropping to the ground. "Bazuso!" Jerod shouted, trying to rush forward. But Daniel smacked the man's chest with the flat of his blade as he turned, ducking beneath the wild swing as he stabbed at the overextended knee.

With another shout of pain, Jerod went to the ground, his sword dropping out of his hand as Daniel leveled the spear at Jerod's throat. Across from him, Guts raised his sword high.

And as one, their blades went through the heads of the two seemingly vaunted knights, Guts' strike nearly splitting Bazuso's head while Daniel's simply let forth a fountain of blood from the throat as both knights toppled dead to the ground.

The air around the collected soldiers and mercs was one of amazement, an attitude that seemed to pass over Guts as he nonchalantly picked up his helmet and put it back on.

The knight finally gathered himself from staring at the scene. "A-alright, men! The enemy will falter with their best down! Strike out and win this!"

The knight's words set the men around Daniel and Guts in motion, the men going past them toward the citadel.

Daniel walked over to Guts, noticing as the boy's hand returned from his hand with blood on it. "You good?"

Guts simply nodded. "It's a little extra food. Maybe some repairs."

Daniel sighed quietly. "Alright. Let's not fall behind, shall we?"

. . .

Overlooking the sight of the man and the boy departing the scene, a still captive audience pondered on the show they had just watched.

"They're pretty impressive, I've got to admit." one said, a younger voice.

"Maybe." another replied, his voice at least somewhat senior to the first and somewhat hiding a sting of anger behind its flippancy. "So, who do you think's stronger between them?"

"It doesn't really matter." a third said, her voice seemingly both out of place and utterly natural on the battlefield. "They wouldn't beat Griffith. Right?"

The last one, Griffith, stayed silent, his eyes locked on the boy as his hand caressed an utterly strange pendant.

"Either way," the first voice said, "this castle's all but fallen. We should get out of here and fight another day."

Several murmurs of agreement saw them begin to make their way toward a preplanned escape route.

. . .

Soon enough, the siege was over, the castle still at least somewhat intact as the banners of some minor House of the Tudor Empire flew over its parapets.

Outside its walls, the mercenaries gathered to receive their pay from their Tudor employers.

Guts and Daniel, helmets off and rucksacks over their shoulders, made their way to the knight that had led them in the assault and who was apparently his paymaster.

"Alright," the paymaster said, handing them their pouches, "here's your half-year's pay and the seven gold each for defeating Bazuso and Jerod."

Guts nodded silently as he opened the bag and began to count his coins. The knight, however, would not leave him to such silence. "Young man, that was terribly impressive! Whether it was luck or skill, for someone your age to defeat Bazuso in single combat…"

"He's been training his entire life," Daniel interjected, drawing the somewhat annoyed attention of the knight. "I would know. I've been the one training him."

"You…" the knight stumbled somewhat, clearly not expecting Daniel's interjection. "You should be proud. Are you, perhaps, an errant knight? You have finer gear than most of the drabble here."

"What I am is what you see," Daniel said. "The guardian of this boy."

The knight was somewhat shocked for a moment, though he hid it well as he turned back to Guts, the boy testing one of the coins. "What would you say to serving as a soldier in my army?" he started. "You'd get three times what you've been paid today, and you could even be one of my squires."

He paused for a moment, then looked back at Daniel. "If your mentor allows it," he added almost as an afterthought.

"It'll be his choice," Daniel replied as he looked at Guts, the boy considering the two of them before he shrugged.

"Our contract's up, anyway," he said as he turned. "Besides, it looks like the fighting here's done anyway."

With that, Daniel and Guts began to walk away. This, however, didn't seem to be what the knight expected or wanted. "W-wait! Why throw yourself into needlessly dangerous battles? Think of the security, the status, the wealth! You could even just be my guest…"

He caught up enough to put a hand on Guts' arm. And Daniel knew how great of a mistake that was for a stranger to make.

Guts' eyes flashed as he threw off the man's hand. "Don't touch me!" he shouted, causing those near them to look over.

The knight stepped back, shocked at the anger in Guts' expression. "Don't ever touch me again." Guts repeated, low and dangerous.

In the moment of silence that followed, Daniel chanced to put a hand on the boy's shoulder, Guts' head whipping around to look at Daniel, but not shrugging him off as the man looked at their startled knight. "Thank you for your offer, sir. But the boy has made his choice to remain a free agent. Good day to you."

Daniel and Guts turned away again to continue on their way, the knight standing there in shock for a moment before the emotion turned over to anger. "Fine, then, you fools!" he shouted after them. "Go die like dogs in a ditch, for all I care!"

The words didn't matter to either of them. They'd heard such offers before. And they'd turned down every single one.

"Are they all really this pretentious?" Guts asked as they made their way away from the castle, towards a spot where they would camp for the night.

Daniel sighed. "No. But there's enough of them that are to make life… difficult."

Before they could get too far, Daniel glanced back to find someone running after them. A very familiar someone, though his collection of scars had been added to. "Willem?" Daniel said as he paused, Guts pausing as well.

Willem came to a stop in front of them, looking between them with no small amount of amazement. "You're alive. I knew it," he said with an almost triumphant grin. "You wouldn't go down that easily, even in a storm."

"What happened?" Daniel said, still in shock.

"They didn't listen," Willem said as he shook his head. "After you left, they broke ties with Midland and went groveling to the Tudors to re-enter their services. I didn't even find out about the assassins until after Gerard took command and busted me down to a foot soldier. Most of the others who were loyal to you either got forced out or were killed."

"Who all's left, then?" Guts asked, a rare look of concern in his eyes.

Willem shrugged. "I wouldn't know anymore. I jumped ship and went independent a year ago. I've met up with a few old friends here and there since, but…" he sighed quietly. "It's a hell of an end to the Thunderbolts, isn't it?"

Daniel nodded slightly, stepping forward and putting a hand on Willem's shoulder. "Maybe so. But it's good to see you doing alright."

Willem nodded, smiling slightly. "And you two as well. I'd join you wherever you're going, but… there's a lady now. I'm trying to gather enough funds to get married, settle down on some out-of-the-way farmstead somewhere."

Daniel grinned as he gently smacked Willem's arm. "Then get after it, and go with my blessing. Who knows, maybe we'll see you again sometime, get to meet your sweetheart."

Willem chuckled. "Maybe. Take care. Wherever you go… good luck."

With that, Willem turned and walked back toward the castle.

"Well…" Daniel said after a moment before turning back towards where they were walking to. "I trust he'll do well for himself."

"I hope so, too." Guts said, following Daniel's lead.

. . .

A gentle breeze swept over the long, hilly fields of Midland, rustling the taller grasses and the branches of the sparse trees and creating a quiet blanket of noise that accompanied the sight of a long, gently winding road passing under the ruins of some stone fortification from earlier in the war.

On that road traveled two figures, seemingly small against the landscape. One traveled on horseback at a leisurely pace, the other preferring to walk alongside the sable horse. Neither seemed terribly alert to their surroundings, sometimes speaking to each other quietly.

It was not a fact that went unnoticed by those watching them pass by. "Look there." one said, gathering his mates. "Who're they?"

"Wait a minute." one of the others said. "I know them. They're the ones that killed Bazuso and Jerod yesterday."

As another, their leader, joined them, they continued. "Aren't they enemies? They were working with the Tudors, after all."

Their leader shrugged. "Doesn't look like that's anything to us now. But…"

A sly look crossed the man's face. "They're probably pretty well off from that battle, seeing as they probably got a reward for killing those knights. And hey, what once was lost is found, y'know?"

The leader looked back to the man with the stark white hair laying next to his armor and sword a ways away. "How about it, Griffith?"

Griffith was silent for a few moments, seemingly in deliberation, before he shrugged. "Do what you will."

The leader chuckled as he stood. "Alright guys, let's get suited up and ready to ride."

One of his men looked at him in shock. "We're really just gonna go and kill them, Corkus?"

The leader, Corkus, nodded. "Yeah. They're just two guys, right?"

A chuckle interrupted the group, and they looked over at a woman with short black hair and skin the color of caramel. That she was dressed to fight was a sight they were all used to. "What's so funny, Casca?"

Casca shook her head slightly. "If Bazuso and Jerod couldn't kill them, what makes you think you will?"

"You think I'm just gonna let all that money get away?" Corkus shot back. "Besides, if I manage to kill even one of them, that'll be a quick road to fame."

"It'll be a quick road to your death, too," Casca replied.

Silence fell over the group for a moment before Corkus waved off Casca. "Alright. Come on, guys. Let's show those two idiots a real fight."

As they went down towards their horses, a young man a little ways away from Casca, holding a whittling knife and a block of wood, sighed and shook his head. "That Corkus…"

He looked over at Griffith. "Are you really sure about this, Griffith?"

The helmet beside him, in the stylized shape of a bird of prey, gave about as much of an answer as the man who wore it into battle did.

. . .

Guts looked around himself at the nearly silent wilderness, silent as he considered what had happened yesterday. 'A page…'

The idea seemed… silly to him. Yeah, you were safe, and people thought you were cool. But what did that matter, really? He'd probably have been bored to death.

He looked up at Daniel, who looked ahead at the road. He'd been a knight before, it was more than likely. Probably someone famous from wherever he was from too. So what made him not want that sort of life? Why hang around with the sort of people who picked him up?

Ultimately, that didn't matter either.

He saw Daniel's eyes narrow as he leaned forward slightly in Shadowdanse's saddle. "Well, then. We've got company."

Guts looked out at where Daniel was looking, seeing nothing… wait. There, just cresting the hill, the sound of their hoofbeats beginning to rumble over the wind. "Well, then. Brigands?"

Daniel shrugged as he dismounted from Shadowdanse and retrieved his swordspear. "Maybe so. Maybe they're another band of mercenaries coming to fleece us. Either way, I'm not wasting Shadowdanse's strength on this."

He retrieved his helmet, putting it under his arm as he smacked the horse's flank. "Go on, Shadow! I'll call you back when we're done."

The horse turned and ran off to the left as Guts put his helmet back on, Daniel doing the same in turn as they waited for their mounted company.

The thundering grew louder and louder, the nearly dozen men shouting as their horses neighed and nickered. And as the pair strained their ears, they heard a voice shout over the noise. "Dante, Errol, go get'em!"

Two knights pelted forward, one man with a sword, the other with a long mace, each galloping towards a separate man. Guts wasted no time in dealing with the mounted swordsman, stepping to the side as the horse charged past, swinging his blade into, then through the man's side, sending the man tumbling from his steed.

Daniel took a more tactical approach to the soldier charging at him, dodging to the left and smacking the man with the flat of his blade, sending him tumbling off his horse as Daniel stepped over to pin the man with a solid boot, smacking the desperate swipe with the mace out of the way as he stabbed into the man's shoulder, breaching the gap in the armor and causing the man's mace to slip out of his hands with a scream that was silenced when Daniel smacked him in the face with the flat of his blade.

. . .

Back up the hill, several gathered onlookers shook their heads in amazement. "Would you look at that? Dante and Errol are out of the fight."

"Dante's dead 'cause of that kid," another interjected. "I think the other man just knocked Errol out."

"Even still," a third chuckled, "Corkus is chickening out, even after he's the one who started this."

Casca, still sitting on her log, nodded. "I told him so. And now look at him," she said with a quiet, weary sigh.

"Casca."

She turned to look at Griffith as he paused for a moment before continuing. "Go take care of it."

Casca stood, her brow furrowing in annoyance. "Come on. Corkus started this. Let him finish it one way or another."

Griffith simply opened a single eye, looking up at Casca with a silent, piercing stare.

After a moment, Casca sighed. "Should I deal with the both of them?"

Griffith considered the question for a moment, then shook his head slightly. "No. Take Judeau with you. He's had experience defeating spear wielders."

Casca sighed, then nodded as she picked up a simple helmet, little more than a cap with thick wires going down to a band that encircled her nose, belting on her sword as she looked over at Judeau, himself getting ready as well, pulling on a helmet that had a somewhat strange metal brim. "Well, you heard him. Let's pull Corkus out of his mess."

. . .

Daniel watched as the men that surrounded them shied away, clearly nervous at their displays of prowess. "Hey, Riguel," he saw one, their ringleader he was sure, nervously saying as he pointed at them, "pick one and get them!"

The man he talked to balked at the prospect. "I dunno, Corkus…"

Daniel looked over at Guts, saw the focus in his eyes as he looked at Corkus, then got his attention with a staying wave. Guts set his jaw but lowered his sword slightly.

"Gentlemen," Daniel said as he looked back at Corkus, "I'm sure that you're having second thoughts right now. So, let's try and settle this peacefully. Let this gentleman my friend over here has killed be the last. You can leave us alone, and we can forget this-"

He was interrupted by the sight of a crossbow bolt sinking into Guts' arm as he dodged to the side, another one slamming into the side of his helmet and sending him stumbling back slightly as he looked for the sources.

They walked forward, two others on horseback making their way through the gathered men as they stowed away crossbows.

"Casca, Judeau!" Corkus said in apparent shock. "Are you… here to help?"

"Help pull your ass out of the fire, at least." one replied as she drew her sword. "Judeau, take the one with the weird spear."

"Ma'am, wait…" was all Daniel managed to get out before Judeau charged him, batting his hurried strike out of the way as he backed up, parrying and probing Judeau's rather stout defenses before he tried something he was sure that his opponent wouldn't expect.

He shifted his grip on his swordspear, taking it in one hand as he drew his dagger and sprinted forward, the man's somewhat wild slash easily ducked under as he slid the dagger into a harness strap and sliced down.

The strap broke, sending the saddle askew and Judeau tumbling to the ground as Daniel smacked the flank of the horse, sending it off as he sheathed his dagger, watching Judeau get back to his feet as he adjusted his swordspear into a guard stance.

As this began, Guts pulled the bolt out of his arm, watching the soldier that was likely Casca running him down, blade poised for a heavy chop. Guts raised his sword, massive in comparison, for a block as their swords collided, Casca drawing back as the blow vibrated up his arm. The soldier quickly recovered, going back in for a series of precise stabs and slices, trying to pry his defenses apart.

Guts managed to keep up, a moment with their blades in the bind allowing him to pin his foe's sword against his saddle as he stabbed up. Casca leaned back from the strike, but the blow glanced off his helmet, sending it flying into the air as he began to fall… wait…

He saw the face of his enemy in full and realized that Daniel saying 'ma'am' was actually terribly accurate. 'What's a woman doing fighting me?'

The horse galloped away from between them, allowing Casca to rise and charge towards Guts once again with a shout, the pair engaging once again, blow and counterblow playing off each other as Guts allowed a few blows to land on his armor, and Casca dodged out of the way.

The crowd around them began to focus on the pair as their duel continued, the men surrounding them obviously in shock at the battle as even Judeau and Daniel began to lose their focus. "What the…" Judeau said somewhat numbly. "How's he keeping up with Casca? Only Griffith could do that before…"

Guts paid little attention to the murmuring, focused on the woman whose strikes became more and more desperate, more and more sloppy, as she tried to batter her way through his defenses. But he stood firm, and a clash that he used to shove forward pushed her to the ground. On instinct, he raised his sword to strike a killing blow, only hesitating as Daniel shouted "Guts, wait!"

As he paused, a spear thudded into the ground between Guts and Casca, Guts looked where the spear had come from and saw a horse with a white cloth caparison rapidly approaching, its rider in gleaming silver plate with a helmet that looked like the hollowed out head with a bird, the eye holes allowing piercing blue eyes to regard Guts as he slowed to a stop.

Casca looked over at the man, and her eyes lit up as she sat up. "Griffith!"

One of the men on horseback, Corkus if he remembered correctly, barked out a laugh. "End of the line for you guys!"

"This one's tough, Griffith," Casca continued. "Stay on your guard!"

Griffith simply regarded Guts for a moment. "Would you lower your sword?" he said with a far more delicate, almost effeminate voice than Guts had expected.

"Guts…" he heard Daniel say from behind him. "I've heard of him before. Don't do anything stupid."

But something about this man rubbed him wrong. Another haughty noble, acting like he knew what he was doing. 'I'll just knock him down a peg or two.'

Thus, heedless of Daniel shouting after him, he charged Griffith, who calmly drew his sword with a nearly muttered "I guess not…"

Griffith then began to charge at him, Guts stepping to the side as he aimed a high swing that would slam into the man's body. But then… he blocked, his sword seeming to disappear from his side and appear blocking the strike, Guts' sword stopping cold.

Guts' eyes went wide as Griffith's sword tilted down, Guts' sword sliding off as he turned to try and face the mounted soldier. But before he could even raise his sword, he felt the man's blade slip into a gap in the armor in his side, scraping against ribs as it went out the other side.

It had barely missed his heart, and he could feel the almost burning heat of his blood draining from the two wounds as the sword slipped out from Griffith passing by. 'Wow… he's quick.' he thought numbly.

With that, he tumbled to the ground, groaning slightly as the men around them cheered.

Daniel's eyes went wide behind his helmet. "Guts!" he shouted, switching the grip on his swordspear and slamming the butt into Judeau's helmet, sending him tumbling to the side as he ran past. Casca, now fully on her feet, readied her sword, but only twice did their blades clash before Daniel hooked the haft of his weapon behind Casca's head, pulling back and sending her back to the ground as he planted the blade into the ground next to her face, flying over her and drawing his sword and dagger, looking up at the final opponent that stood in his way: Griffith himself.

Griffith pivoted his horse to the right, bringing up his sword as their blades clashed once, then again and again, the cheers dying down to near silence as the exchange went on for another minute, then a minute more.

Daniel's suspicions were confirmed: he was quick, very much so. But there was far less of it than he first expected that could be attributed to training. The man was just… good with a sword, almost on instinct. But that meant that he had ways to be exploited.

Daniel saw that mounted as he was, he only guarded with his sword fully up if he did not see an opening that his blade could slither into. So, as a few more strikes passed, he offered up a tempting target near his neck as he seemed to falter for a moment.

Griffith took it, the sword sweeping in from Daniel's right towards what appeared to be his open neck. He'd committed to it. 'Perfect.'

Thus, he brought his dagger up to block at the last second, Griffith's blade clanging against it as Daniel thrust up toward the opening in Griffith's helmet.

Both swords stopped inches away from their opponent's faces, and the crowd gasped as the men stood there for long moments. "Get out of my way," Daniel said, his voice as hard as the steel of their blades.

It was silent for a moment. "If you yield," Griffith said, "I will ensure the man behind us is taken care of. He's losing a goodly amount of blood. Make your choice quickly."

Again, it went silent, the group around them approaching slowly, some drawing weapons, or picking them up from the ground. Finally, Daniel lowered his sword from Griffith's face, sheathing his dagger as Griffith sheathed his sword in turn. "Very well. I yield." Daniel said.

Then, a gasp of shock went up, and Daniel went around the front of Griffith's horse to see Guts, amazingly, on his feet, eyes likely utterly focused on Griffith and slowly raising his sword.

Daniel sheathed his sword as he strode forward, taking off his helmet as he stopped in front of Guts. "Guts, the fight's over. You're bleeding out. Stop."

Guts carried on regardless, and Daniel put a hand on the boy's shoulder as he raised his faceplate, revealing a face slick with sweat. "Guts, put the sword down," he said firmly.

Guts' eyes drifted back to Daniel's, a haze of confusion falling over them before they lost focus entirely, the massive sword clattering to the ground as he slumped into Daniel's arms.

"Damn stubborn, boy," Daniel muttered as he lay Guts on the ground, looking around him for a moment at the faces that looked at him, more than a little shocked, before looking back up at Griffith, who had taken off his helmet to reveal a flowing cascade of stark white hair. "Call your medics up. I'll be traveling with him to your camp to ensure there isn't anymore funny business."

Griffith nodded, looking over at Corkus. "You will go and get Harmon, and ensure the safe passage of the wounded to camp."

Corkus gulped and nodded. "Yes sir."

Casca, an irate look on her face, looked over at Corkus. "You'd better be thankful that's all you're getting. If you don't know how deep the water is, don't jump in recklessly."

"The point is made, Casca," Griffith said calmly. "Let him go about his orders."

Casca nodded, looking back at Daniel, helm under his arm, as he calmly retrieved his swordspear, then turned back to where he had come.

He whistled, a clear tone going low, then high as it echoed through the hills. "Come home, Shadowdanse," he said to no one in particular.

A few heads turned to look where Daniel gazed out to, more than a few murmurs rising as Shadowdanse galloped toward them, two other horses following in tow.

They slowed, then came to a stop in front of Daniel, who walked up to Shadowdanse and stroked his head, whispering to him before turning to Casca and Judeau, who stood in amazement as their horses wandered toward them. "My apologies, young master Judeau," he said with a slight smile. "Due to me, you'll be unable to ride back."

Judeau, his helmet off, shrugged. "Well, it could be worse, I guess. We could have lost these horses entirely."

Casca said nothing, simply staring at Daniel as he mounted up with narrowed eyes. "I'll be keeping an eye on you."

Daniel looked back at Casca levelly. "I'm sure you will, my lady."

With that, he rode to Griffith's side, where two men with a stretcher lifted Guts gingerly off the ground before they all made their way to the camp of the Band of the Falcon.