Forgotten Conqueror B2

Chapter 30- Brotherhood

The signal to begin reverberated throughout the trenches, and they sprang into action. One of the mages invoked a spell and the ground rose, pushing Biran and those beside him up through the concealed cover, onto the open road.
"Protect the prisoners!" He shouted, swiftly dispatching a surprised man.

Like that day so many turns ago, when he and the prince both got rescued, he was now the one doing the rescuing. A handful of others ran alongside him, cutting down any within reach as another team did the same from the opposite side.

Everything was happening exactly how he remembered it that day. From the first slavers falling due to the ambush, to the horns alerting the group, and the bloodbath that followed. Yet unlike that day, instead of wearing rags and being chained to those around him, he was wearing a full plate of armor and leading a group of men.

Whips cracked, and he heard the screams of the innocent. Without waiting for those beside him, he dashed forward, moving to protect the ones who were being slaughtered.
More crackling sounds resounded through the air and something struck him across the back of his plate, but he kept moving. Seething with anger at what was happening before him, he charged and beheaded a man who had already slain two unarmed hostages. Something coiled around his gauntlet and tried to pull him to the side. Instinctively, he brought his sword around and slashed at the whip that caught him.

"Run! Drag the dead if you have to!!" He yelled at the group of prisoners who were chained together. Not waiting for a response, he turned his attention down the line of prisoners and dashed after another slaver who was killing them.

A sword swung at him from his left side and Biran deftly parried it, countering by slamming an armored fist into the attacker's extended arm. As the man pulled back, without bothering about the codes and honors of a knight, he twisted his body and lurched after, delivering a kick into the man's groin and sending the slaver to his knees. He mercilessly swung his sword, cleaving the man's head in half before charging into another slaver in his path.

He had two things on mind: to rescue as many people as he could, and to survive the rescue job. Fair play be damned, for he had seen first-hand what sort of people they were dealing with, and the codes would only hinder him.

Biran barreled toward the last of the slavers guarding the chain of prisoners, thrusting his sword as he closed in on the man. But before his blade could pierce flesh, there was a crackling noise as a whip caught his sword mid-thrust, and a powerful pull threatened to rip the weapon out of his grasp. Tunnel-visioned, he had failed to notice another enemy to his side. As he glanced at the second man, the one before him pulled out a dagger and jumped onto him. He tried to push back, but the weight of the man toppled him over, and he fell on his back, dropping his sword in the process.

The slaver attempted to stab through the slits and folds of his armor, and Biran defended the attacks with his arms while admonishing himself for getting into such a situation. From the fact that they were able to disarm him and get him to the ground, he could tell that the slavers weren't amateurs and had fought armored opponents before. Unfortunately for them, neither he nor the people with him were amateurs either.
As his attacker attempted a fourth stab, using the opening of the attack, his right arm shot forward and smashed into the slaver's jaw, causing the man to howl in pain. Before he could hit the man again, an arrow zipped over him and embedded itself into the man's neck.

Pushing himself up, he grabbed the dagger that his attacker dropped and turned toward the direction of the man who had disarmed him, only to see that the man was already dead. One of his own men ran over to him, trying to buy him time to recover. He noticed that his sword was lying where he dropped it, and picking up the weapon, Biran calmed himself before charging their enemies once more.


...


By the end of the skirmish, over twenty slavers laid dead, and a handful of those who were unable to flee, were in chains.

As they were trying to mend their wounds and free the prisoners of their shackles,
"How did it go this time, and how many people did we lose?" With a dispirited look, Biran questioned one of the men. He had survived once again, but the same could not be said about everyone else.

Ever since agreeing to Princess Vernera's offer, being a knight from Unotus, he had been pulled away from doing supply runs and given a unit of fighters to help with freeing slaves.
This was his team's third rescue mission, and they succeeded once more, yet the price for success never sat well with him.

"The ambush went well, but there were more of them than we initially thought."

"How many did we lose?" He repeated himself. He knew the man was only trying to spare his feelings, but he had to know.

"Eight. Three from our group, and the other five from Daezal's. There are also nine wounded, and three of them probably won't to make the trip back to Vilute..." The man replied with a disheartened tone.

"Eight, with three more on the way... this is..."

"There were a lot of guards this time, and many of them were quite skillful. We should be thankful that we only lost eight so far."

"That doesn't make it any better, Solio. Good people are dead and dying."
The man—Solio—was a short and potbellied man almost a decade older than himself, but also a skilled archer. The man's resourcefulness and abilities had surprised him on their first job, and they had gotten to know each other quite well ever since.

"I understand, but look at all the people we saved today," Solio turned to the people walking around the scarlet field, searching for their loved ones. "Many more would have died if not for you today, so you should be thankful for those who are still alive. Remember that each and every one of us once treaded in their paths, moving towards uncertainty with death strolling beside us. Yet here we are, alive and with purpose... It might be disrespectful to say that I am glad it was not me, but given the choice, I would gladly trade my life to see these people freed as we too were once freed."

"That's just it, Solio. Why does someone have to die, just to correct the wrongs of this godless world? Why is it that the helpless and weak are always the first to suffer, whilst those with power kill and rob their fellow men in the name of petty greed? Life has so much more to offer everyone..."

"I have pondered that myself multiple times, but I'm afraid I cannot give you an answer that would ease your mind. Perhaps this might just be the natural order of the world? If not, then why else would this be happening?"

"... The natural order of the world, huh?" Biran replied, looking to those around him. They were able to save a lot of the prisoners, but a large number had been murdered during the attack, and many others had been wounded in the frenzy. Most of them were in rags as he and his companions had once been, with their skins sunbaked and layered with filth. Each and every one of them was crying or yelling, with some doing both as they searched the battlefield.

He could never get used to those horrible sounds of anguish. No matter how apathetic and emotionless he tried to be, whenever the battle was over and the mourning began, it was always like a sharpened blade cutting through him.

'There are more orphans...' He thought to himself, seeing the number of children without anyone beside them to hold their hands.
Looking away, he steeled himself, for his job had only begun. "Help me with these plates." He instructed Solio as he began undoing his armor—dropping the parts he could take off onto the ground. "I need to go talk to Daezel about the usual speech and head off before it is too late."

"You're not returning with us?" Solio replied, moving in to undo the breastplate.

"No. The princess has asked me to do something else. I am to ride for Ostus after this."

"And your armor?"

"Take it back with you all. I won't be requiring it."

"I see. Will you be needing anyone to come along?"

"It would be great if only to shorten the road, but not this time. Let the others know and tell them to go back without me. I will see you all in Vilute within a fortnight." Biran answered as he undid the leggings.

"Well then, good fortune to you, Captain." Solio replied from behind, removing his back plate.

Captain. The rank bestowed upon him after being given his own unit. He had tried to tell the others not to call him such and just call him Biran, but unfortunately for him, his identity as a knight had been thrown into the open during his introduction. The men all declined to call him by his name, saying it would be rude to address a knight as such while they were out on the field.

Soon enough, he was out of the armor and making sure that everything which should be on his person was there. With a sack containing some rations, his sword, and a letter, he set off to talk to the other group's captain.

After a brief discussion about the usual process and what to do with the slavers, he saddled up one of the few horses they brought with them and was on his way, heading towards his real destination. Towards the mining village of Ostus.