Book 7 Chapter 10

The first of the men charged at Francis, swinging his sword down on him, only for Francis to divert the blade with his own. He then kicked the man in the stomach, sending him crumbling to the ground. Joan frowned, they weren’t even moving that fast. Were they not trying to hurt him?

Of course, it seemed the others took that quick and painful lesson to heart. The men circled around him, not going in but instead forcing him to split his attention. Joan couldn’t help feeling a little annoyed. If they had just gone at him, one by one, she was certain he could have easily taken them all. As it was, even the one he’d knocked down was slowly getting to his feet. There weren’t even that many of them, only six and their leader.

“Qakog, how awake do you feel?” Joan asked before glancing back.

“I’m ready, I’ll take the three on the left, you take the three on the right?” Qakog asked.

“You know, I’m here too,” Bauteut said.

“I mean, you’re the one who usually has to pick us up when we get hurt,” Joan said. “Also, I don’t know if you can fight very well.”

“GAH!” Francis cried out.

Joan quickly turned back towards him. Blood was splattered on the ground and she could see one of the figures had managed to cut him across the shoulder. On the up side, two of them were on the ground, clutching themselves.

Wait, they were still alive. Was he trying to not kill them? Was there a reason or just arrogance? She glanced back to Bauteut for a moment before sighing. Well, if Francis could do it, so could she. “Qakog? Try not to kill them if you can avoid it.”

“Huh? As you wish,” the demon said.

“And Bauteut, just don’t put yourself in too much danger, but if you can help? Go ahead,” Joan said before she ran out from cover. She gave a high pitched whistle before charging at the nearest of the figures.

The man barely turned in time, lifting his sword up to catch her blade when she drove it down. Her eyes widened when Guardian Nova nearly sliced through the sword, cutting a deep gouge in the blade. She pulled her sword back and the cloaked figure stumbled back, lifting his hands to defend himself.

Joan saw Qakog run past her towards a second of the figures, though she wasn’t able to watch his fight as a third charged at her. It took her a moment to realize they weren’t holding back, they were just that slow. Compared to Hardwin’s speed, they were all but standing still. Not to mention they were so incredibly predictable. For the first time in what felt like ages, she wasn’t even enhancing her body and she was able to keep up with ease, knocking each blow aside and then kicking the man’s feet out from under him. He landed on the ground and she brought her foot down on his back, hard, before kicking his sword away.

“Enough of this!” their leader yelled. Joan had only a moment to ready herself when he pulled out a long, gem encrusted rod from his coat. He pointed it at them and a moment later flame erupted from the end.

Joan dashed forward, shoving aside every instinct she had to run and flee, and instead cut with her blade. The flames turned to a bright blue, wrapping around her with that same comforting, delicate warmth. She flicked her blade up, most of the flames shooting up and into the air before dispersing.

Silence filled the street and the man stared at her with wide, horror filled eyes. He stumbled back, dropping the rod on the ground. “Who are you? You, you can’t, do you know who I am?”

“Not particularly,” Joan said. She could see the relief start to form on his features. Oh, she’d seen that before. Why did people always think that would help them? ‘Oh, do you know who I am? Well, I’m so and so!’ What did she care? They just tried to kill her. “You don’t know who I am, though,” she said before she started to walk towards him. “Otherwise, you’d know whoever you are doesn’t matter.”

“W-what? I am Lord Esdelot,” the man said.

Joan paused. Esdelot? Wait, that name sounded familiar. Where had she-- OH! He was the Lord of Hearth. Or at least one of the lords. He helped manage the fleet or something. She didn’t really remember what or why. She did, however, remember one tiny thing about him. He’d been responsible for enslaving a whole lot of demons and forcing them to work in terrible mines after the world was separated from the gods. Now, she didn’t know what other crimes he might have committed, after Korgron and/or Hardwin got a hold of him it had hardly mattered. Still, while he might not have committed any crimes that she knew of right now, that didn’t mean he was anything even approaching trustworthy. “Gotcha. Still don’t care,” Joan said before she ran forward, lifting her sword up and bringing it down…

Only to stop it a few centimeters from him once he fell to the ground, staring up at her with horror. “Call off your men.”

The man gulped before nodding. “Y-yes. Pull… pull back.”

Joan glanced back and then paused. Only one of the men were still standing, though even he was disarmed. Francis and Qakog were standing strong over the rest, the last not moving with Qakog’s blade towards his throat.

“I guess it’s just kind of pedantic at this point, isn’t it?” Joan asked sheepishly before turning back to him. “Get out of here. If I were you, I’d run once you get home and try to never cause anyone any more trouble for the rest of your life.”

“Run?” Esdelot asked. “Y-you think you can—”

“Not from me,” Joan said. “I don’t have time to deal with the fallout from you. But I’m not the one you need to worry about.” She then leaned forward, her eyes narrowed on him. “Who you need to worry about are the Chosen. They’re going to want to have a long, long, long talk with you about this.”

Esdelot gave a light squeak. “The Chosen? Why would they-- you’re not-- you can’t be--”

“We’re close,” Joan said. “So, as I said, ru--” The words died in her throat when Bauteut moved behind the man and put a hand on the back of his head. A moment later he dropped to the ground, unconscious. “What? Hey! Why’d you do that for?”

“Were you really going to just let him go?” Bauteut asked.

“I mean, yes,” Joan said. “We utterly crushed him. He--”

“You told him who and why he needs to worry,” Bauteut said, her tone very annoyed. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather avoid having any assassination attempts.”

Joan felt her own annoyance rising. “I had it handled. He was scared.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Joan,” Bauteut said. “Please don’t let people who are trying to kill you run off so they can try again.”

Joan gave a soft sigh before eyeing him. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

“Of course not,” Bauteut said quickly. “I merely put him to sleep. I’m sure you’re familiar with how effective that can be.”

Joan’s cheeks turned red and she tried desperately to not think about the time she was swaddled. “Yeah. I uhhh… I guess this is it. Then?” She glanced back to Francis and had to suppress the urge to call him by his name. Of all the people she wanted to know that she knew them, he was the last. “Are you two okay?”

“I’m fine,” Francis said, though she didn’t like the way he was looking at her. It wasn’t angry, annoyed, or threatening.

He was staring at her like she was the Hero.

“He’s not,” the girl said softly before lightly nudging him forward. “He was hurt trying to protect me.”

“Ifrit, shush,” Francis said, his cheeks turning red. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Uhhhh, is what you said true? Do you know the Chosen?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Joan said softly. “I’m Joan, the uhhh… daughter of one of them. Lord Hardwin, Chosen of the Sword.”

“You actually know the Chosen?” Francis asked, almost squealing. “You’re the daughter of one? Truly? Does this mean, do you… do you know the Hero?”

Joan blinked a few times and stared at him. He was all but hopping up and down with giddy excitement. Of all the reactions she’d expected from him of all people, that was definitely not one. “Uhhhhh… no,” she said softly. Almost instantly she felt guilt run through her when his expression shifted to one of pure and utter disappointment. “I don’t think there is a Hero.”

“Oh,” Francis said, his eyes lowering.

Bauteut walked towards him. “Here, let me see that cut, I’m a healer.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Francis said, trying to wave her off. “I’ve had far wor-- ah!” Despite his objections, Ifrit shoved him towards her.

“Ignore him, he’s always like this,” Ifrit said with a roll of her eyes. “I get so much as a splinter and he acts like it’s the end of the world. But if he’s covered in his own blood that’s entirely fine.”

“I’m supposed to protect you,” Francis said. “It doesn’t matter if I get hurt, I just--”

“Wow,” Bauteut said before taking his arm. “I must say I’m absolutely stunned that someone could behave like that. Truly. It must be incredibly difficult dealing with somebody like that,” Bauteut said in a dry tone, her head turning to stare at Joan while she worked. “Must be incredibly difficult. Stop trying to pull your arm away until I’m done.”

“You’d best do what she says,” Joan said. “She’ll knock you out too.”

“I’m fine,” Francis said. “Truly. It’s just a small scr-- AGH!”

“I can see that,” Bauteut said. “I’m Bauteut, that’s Joan and he’s Qakog.”

“I’m Ifrit, he’s an overprotective idiot. I mean, Francis,” the woman said before bowing her head. “Thank you so much for your aid.”

“Wanna tell us why one of the lords of this city are after you?” Joan asked.

“No idea,” Francis said with a shrug. “But it’s nothing I can’t han-- ow!”

“I said stop moving,” Bauteut said. “This is a lot deeper than I thought. I’m going to need to wash it out, don’t move.”

Joan sighed and glanced around. Well, some of the men had already ran off, others were still on the ground. On top of that, they had the lord.

“It’s my fault,” Ifrit said, her eyes lowered. “They were after me.”

“Why?” Joan asked.

“I don’t know,” Ifrit said. “They’ve been after me since--”

“Ifrit!” Francis said, cutting her off.

“Stop moving,” Bauteut said firmly.

Joan gave a sigh. Of course, he was trying to protect her. She could almost kind of appreciate that. At least if he was one day going to pretend to be the Hero he wouldn’t be terrible about it. She would have preferred he hadn’t tried to pretend, though.

“It’s fine,” Ifrit said. “They saved us, didn’t they? They also know the Chosen. Remember what you told me before? The Chosen and the Hero were sent by the gods to help us all. If we can’t trust their friends, who can we trust?”

Francis gave a sigh before lowering his head. “It’s not fair to use my words against me like that.”

“Am I wrong?” Ifrit asked.

“No,” Francis said.

“Exactly. They’ve been after me for a while,” Ifrit said softly. “Francis saved me recently when I was attacked and, well, at the time I thought they were just thugs. But now I’m not so sure. This attack seemed…”

“Premeditated?” Joan asked before glancing around. The street was still empty. Seriously. How was nobody here? Something was definitely up.

“Halt!” a voice called from behind her. She let out a sigh of relief before turning around. A moment later any semblance of relief washed off her. There were seven of them and, unlike the cloaked figures, they looked far more competent. Their weapons and armor looked as if they were in good condition and they were wearing a mercenary symbol she didn’t recognize. “What all do we have here?” one of them asked, a smug smirk forming on his lips. “A demon, some kids and an idiot? Attacking one of the fine lords of this—”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Joan said before giving a soft sigh and resting her face in her hand. “Are you on his payroll?”

“What?” the man asked. “Don’t you know who--”

“I don’t care who you are,” Joan said. “Are you on his payroll? Because if you’re going to attack us, just get it over with so I can grind you into the dirt.”

“Um, Joan?” Bauteut said. “Do you think you should be--”

“It’s fine,” Joan said. “This stuff happens all the time. Besides they’re perfect for a little test.”

“Heh,” the man said. “Well, you are right. We’re on Lord Esdelot’s payroll. I am--”

“Don’t care,” Joan said again before reaching down and lightly tapping the gem on her belt. “Korgron will be happy, at least. I can tell her this works.”

------

Joan stared with wide eyes, very, very thankful she had managed to avoid shrieking. Also, that Searle had been part of its creation.

The massive elemental of light towered over the bodies of the mercenaries, most of who were groaning or whimpering. She was certain if it had been anyone BUT Searle who had been a part of its construction they would have all been dead. As it was, the ground was covered in ash and Joan was pretty sure everyone in the city now knew where they were. A two story tall light elemental was kind of hard to miss.

“How?” Francis asked.

“Korgron?” Bauteut asked.

“Korgron,” Joan said, her mouth open.

“I… I don’t want to fight that,” Qakog said weakly. “Are you sure it’s on our side?”

“We’re still alive, aren’t we?” Joan asked.

Joan made a mental note to have a long, long talk with Korgron about it later. While yes, it was incredibly awesome, she wasn’t sure how she felt about having something that could probably wipe out a fortress wrapped around her waist.

Actually, considering her experiences, maybe this wasn’t the worst idea. At least she knew she was safe. So long as she didn’t have to worry about keeping the local terrain in one piece.