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'...I have come to collect what is owed to me...Sutra...'
Her luminous eyes penetrated his spirit. She could read the notes of panic, if his fear were a song.
'...they have moved...your sound advice discarded like a burned out torch...'
The chiding laughter angered him more.
'...no little one...I am not your enemy...soon...'
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Sutra woke up to the sound of the morning cadence of the mighty militant hammer of the kingdom. He had camped 5 miles from the barony, being the closest to home since a week.
He rushed to prepare for the march, making sure he would loosely follow the royal army to confront the marauders.
Standing at the pinnacle of the tallest cliff found in the surrounding area, he could easily make out at least a thousand foot soldiers. He could see the official mark of the strongest military unit known throughout the kingdom. The pyramin brotherhood had come to the kingdom's aid.
Banners and standards of lands outside their own, from a kingdom unknown to him had apparently shown their support to the sovereign crown in this dire time of need.
The encampment bearing the tallest and most luxurious pavilion must have housed at least 10 of the finest knights and the Prince Regent himself. Sutra kneeled marking the territory on his makeshift map. He had heard talk of a nearby mercenary camp. Some were brave enough to swear to have seen the queen herself.
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The hot summer day quickly became overcast as the army marched to meet their hidden enemy. Messages were excitedly relayed by scouts having found the Barons small contingent in a clearing by the River Midnight.
Sutra strode among the ranks of eager men, feeling many of them distrustfully turning their backs away from him as he made his way through the small makeshift military stronghold.
'Sir Forest...it's been confirmed that their is a caravan carrying the Queen, we await your instructions.' The familiar scout spoke. Sir Forest stood among the company of some of the most renowned knights in all the realms.
Sutra stood back as he strained to hear any information about the Baron's whereabouts. The Guild would definitely be with him and his army. He knew why the Guilds grandmaster fought. They were his own volition, unbribed and purchased by worldly riches.
Almost immediately, the order to confront the caravan was given. The knights, armor laden kneeled before masters of majicks, energies crackling in the air. Protections against almost every feasible attack were placed on the mightiest warriors. Sutra shook his head as he walked on by knowing fully well of the massacre to come.
The micro legion prepared to march, the lone assassin paced behind Sir Morgan, the very same knight he had been entrusted to have ride with him. The mountainous knight continually peered over his shoulder. Old habits seemed to never die. Sutra only smirked.
He would prove his worth today, he mentally repeated to himself.
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The battle had spanned over an hour. The master assassin stalked his targets as carefully as possible, knowing fully well, many of the masters had come from out of the shadows to fight along their brothers.
He had seen the young excited faces of the initiates. Faces streaked away, managing to escape his grasp. Others, would remain in his memory for ever, as he executed the quickest, least painful death possible. He still considered them his brethren.
'The Queen! We have our Queen!' the cheers raced back and forth among the lines, emboldening their resolved to push with all the armies might. Sir Forest did not relent and delivered the last crushing blow to the small and outnumbered enemy.
The carnage was exact.
The royal armies had regained their queen. They killed Lady Doladar. They decimated the ranks of the Guild.
The barbarian, it turns out was not with his renegade forces at all. His brave men and women fought with courage, but without their familiar blood crazed leader at the front, they fell one by one.
The battle lasted less than an hour. Soon, the storm would follow.
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The evenings revelries were uncontested in drink and merriment. Men laughed and sang of the kingdoms strength and valor. Sutra stood in the fringes, beyond the campfires tale tell luminance.
'They say Chaos was so afraid of losing face that he sent his bravers… ('and dumbest' a shallow voice echoed in the background)...right! Bravest and dumbest to die this day! They had such good intel...they even knew he wasn't going to be at the battle!'
The men applauded the man provoked by liquid courage.
'And the assassins! They're all dead!' The cheers were almost deafening. Sutra stood with his arms crossed as he heard the remarks. Of all the dark warriors wearing masks that day, he, was the last one standing. His dark spirit cried out in angry supplication to a deaf goddess in the void.
The 'traitor' turned on his heel, to prepare for his last act in these lands until the next full moon.
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The shallow graves we're as best hidden as a master assassin could hide them.
12 unmarked graves, creating a circle, a sunburst in his imagination. He laid the last stone upon the soft, recently roiled earth. The forest canopy cast deep shadows here.
He sat in the middle of the serene circle, a solitary torch lit. The incense burned almost bitterly this hot and humid early morning. He sat in meditation.
Sutra could see their faces, as unique as the other and called out to each and every single name he remembered.
Silently, the voices replied.
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The morning air reeked of death. The slain had been left to rot in the elements. Carrion birds made their beds here now. He griped his head scarf tighter against his nose, the stench of rotting corpses was burning him to his core. Sutra kicked at a black bird here and there but to no avail, he left the killings fields intact.
He had visions before the rising of the sun. He saw an enraged barbarian punishing the remaining survivors for having failed him. Baron Chaos had lost much face now.
Sutra prepared for his journey north. A single blade for a single man.
The Royal Caravan had been gone for a few hours, having left a little after day break, stragglers and the mercenaries that had provided support looted the dead.
'Nothing...is sacred...it seems...' Sutra muttered to himself.
Quickly, he left the barony of the Midnight Sun behind.
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S
[con't]
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The general who advances without seeking fame and retreats without fearing disgrace, whose only thought is to protect his country and do service for his sovereign, is the jewel of his kingdom. -Sun Wu
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