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Part I of the first chapter of my series. I hope that you all enjoy. If you'd like to see the entire story, visit my "Complete Series" Journal entry. I update this story every other day, for those who wish to read it.
Claude let his hand brush along the sones that formed the foundation of the warehouse next to him. The building was placed oddly on a hill, with the cobblestone path leading downards, towards the inards of Port Rap and towards the bay. The crowd that had watched the scene unfold at the intersection of the alley further down the path had dispersed as members of the guild's Defense Division shooed the bystandars away. The brave souls began to clean up the mess, watching silently as the fearsome Guildmaster stepped his way up the path, towards the next intersection, where he planned to turn towards the large, dark wooden doors of the warehouse. Inside, he would find what he and his senior officers had been searching for.
He peaked the hill and turned at the intersection, taking slow and silent steps as he followed the side of the warehouse. The cobblestone path beneath his feet was warm as the sun beat down on it, and the air around him felt moist and tasted of salt. The faint smell of fish never failed to intrude up his nostrils. These were the perks of living in a port-town.
However, he did not let the uncomfortable conditions sway him. He was here with a purpose, and he could not forget that. So, he strode up to the large wooden doors. The sounds of metal weaponry and armor clashing against each other could be heard from even outside the warehouse, and it had caused such a ruccous that the nearby neighbors had been certain to clear the area, except for the ones who had watched his duel with the thug that had challenged the Guildmaster.
He gripped at both of the doors, his hands spreading from the center as he slid the doors open to either side of the entrance. As he released the doors, he placed his hands on his hips and examined the scene before him.
The large, barn-like structure was filled with crates. Soldiers and thugs were battling on a fairly large scale across the stone floor of the warehouse. Two soldiers had been guarding the door to prevent retreat, but did not protest to the Guildmaster's entrance. Where there were not people, there were large, wooden pillars that stretched from the floor to the loft above, and, most likely, even farther up, to the ceiling. There seemed to be heavy mining equipment lying about, and wagons had been loaded with the crates.
Rather than focussing on the soldiers and the thugs before him, he steppeda few yards into the building and examined one of the crates. It had the stamp of The Seven Swords, one of the most prominent guilds in the Lelantos Empire, which bordered the Yellowdale Kingdom to the North, just a day's travel by ship across the bay. He smiled at the crate and reached for the crowbar that had been lying on the stack of crates behind this particular crate. Someone was most likely going to open this crate and examine the contents before the Council had shown up.
As his fingers touched the crowbar, he instinctively pulled his arm back. In the few miliseconds that his fingers had spent pulling away from the crowbar, a large broadsword smashed into the crate, just centimeters from his finger tips. The blade was clearly sharpened to perfection, since it sliced through the thick wood and lodged itself into the next board.
In the single moment that Claude had, he followed the blade to the hilt, and then to the owner. Claude had instinctively reached for his rapier and had drawn it halfway before realizing who it was.
"Woah, woah, woah! Calm your blade, Claude. I was just testing your reaction time!" The large black man before him was the Officer of Defense, Victor. His guantleted hands reached up to the steel helm that he wore, and as he lifted the piece of armor from his head, Claude could see his yellow eyes flashing this way and that, ever vigilant of a threat. His dirty blonde brows were furrowed and his matching short hair was standing up on end, making it seem more pointed than usual.
Claude pushed the blade of his black rapier back into its sheath at his belt and he let out a sigh of relief -- or so Victor thought. "God damnit! Now that you've challenged my reflexes, how about you challenge my ability! C'mon, let's go for it right now! You've already set yourself up to fall--"
"Now, now, kid, don't get ahead of yourself. If you want to fight, there's plenty of these thugs left. Just don't kill the Big Boss, we need him, you know."
Claude looked disappointed and lowered his formerly protesting arms, which had seemed to be flailing wildly at Victor's full-plate steel armor. Claude composed himself and turned back to the crate before him. As he reached towards the crowbar again, he shot Victor a challenging glance, which Victor did not entertain with a response, much to Claude's disappointment.
Victor took his eyes away from the young Guildmaster and watched the battle before him. He could see the guild's warriors battling their hearts out, and he had faith that they were all strong enough to handle the thugs before them. So far, the guild had not lost a single soldier out of the twenty that were deployed in the warehouse. In contrast, at least two dozen of the thugs were either wounded or killed.
Victor's only reaction to the slaughter before him came with a single sentence. "God, Claude, this is going to be a b***h to clean up."
Claude, who was struggling to wedge the crowbar into the crate's crevices, hardly paid him any heed. When he finally managed to insert the crowbar where it would have enough force to pull up the large nails that held the crate shut, his smile reformed on his face.
Victor patted him on the back and turned away, looking back towards the battle. The guild's men were all wearing tough chainmail and were all equipped with a variety of weapons, ranging from spears and halberds to longswords and axes. The guild believed it could bring out the best of a soldier in combat if they fought with the soldier's preferences in mind.
All of the soldiers were split into different groups to match their choices in weaponry. This was the way that Victor had been placed when he was still a lower rank, although, he always claimed that his preference in weaponry was every type of weapon. Victor let out a deep, hearty laugh at the situation before him. None of his troops were nearly as versatile as he was, and he knew that he needed to change that, since he was the head of the Defense Division.
"I wouldn't mind if those two dolts, Old Henrik and Sylvestor, managed to get their intelligence wrong this time," Victor said through his laughter, smiling widly and brushing his free, guantleted hand over his bright hair.
Claude had managed to pull up two corners of the crate and had begun to push the boards up from the freed corners. He glanced at Victor and managed to call to his side, pretending to have listened, "Yes, yes, of course, Victor."
Victor contained himself kept from smacking Claude on the back of the head. He knew Claude would only take it as a challenge again. Instead, he replaced his helm, let a hand rest on Claude's shoulder, and, leaning over, he said, "You see that one there?" He raised his hand, pointing to the fray before them within the warehouse.
His finger tip led to a large fellow, clad in scaled armor. He was furiously slashing at the Council's Defense Division troops with two sabers. The curved blades cut through the air with nearly unparralelled speed when compared to the weapons of the other troops. They cut straight through the polearms, and they harmlessly glanced off shields, but their speed was keeping the guild's troops at bay.
"I'm gonna go teach the troops a lesson," he said, smirking, "and he'll be my training partner."
At this, Claude raised his head and searched the crowd. When he found the man, a frown stretched its way across his face. He yelled to Victor, who had pried his sword from the crate and had begun walking towards the troubled troops, "I thought you said we shouldn't kill the Big Boss!?"
Victor waved his left hand without looking back, and, letting the blade rest on his shoulder, yelled, "Oh, I won't kill him, I promise!"
Claude's frown didn't dissipate this time. He shook his head and looked back to the crate. He had managed to pry open the boards, but the contents did not please him. With a scoff, he reached inside the crate.
 Ty-Harukii · Mon Jun 26, 2017 @ 12:25pm · 0 Comments |
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