“Do it.”
Two blades swung through the air, and two heads dropped to the ground. One rolled in front of Commander Fahler’s feet. Without sparing it a second glance, he unceremoniously kicked it away, taking care only to make sure he didn’t get any blood on his shoes.
“Bag the heads. Everyone will rest for tomorrow’s attack.”
‘Understood.”
With a scowl on his face, Commander Fahler retired to the command tent, which also served as his living quarters. As he stepped inside, however, he felt a slight tingle on the back of his neck.
In a single fluid motion, he twisted into a crouching stance, pulled out his sword, and raised it in front of his head.
Just in time, too. While a bolt struck him in his side, another bolt clanged against the side of his sword. If he hadn’t blocked it, it would have pierced his cheek, likely ending his life.
“Guards! Assassins!”
Before he could even see where his assassins, he saw the side of his tents flap outwards, showing that the assassins had escaped the tent and were running for their lives.
Two guards burst into the tent, swords and shields raised. The two scanned around the interior of the tent rapidly, then turned toward Commander Fahler.
“Outside, idiots! They’re running away! Go chase them, or I’ll have your heads.”
With that, the two guards left - not before shouting for several other guards who’d just appeared on the scene to join them.
“God DAMMIT!” Commander Fahler cursed as he felt his side, where the bolt had just sliced through his skin.
He wiped the wound with his fingers, then raised his fingers to his face.
Seeing his blood, he scowled.
He poked his head out of his tent, then yelled at a passing soldier.
“You! Get a doctor here, right now.”
“Yes sir!”
With that, Commander Fahler re-entered his tent, collapsed onto a chair, and closed his eyes. This side-mission was turning out to be far more than he’d bargained for.
With his eyes still closed, he sighed. Alone, his body finally relaxed as he exhaled. Without having to appear strong and powerful in front of his officers and soldiers, he could finally take a second for himself.
Just a second… to himself.
A bolt struck him between his eyebrows, and a diminutive, petite figure unattached itself from the ceiling of the tent, then slipped away into the camp.
A minute later, the doctor Commander Fahler had called for arrived - and quickly ran out of the tent, shouting for help.
It didn’t take long for news to reach all corners of the camp - Commander Fahler had been assassinated.
In Venite City, Rojan, Wesley, and the rest of their fifty-odd group of friend had convened to discuss their plans for the following day, when they suddenly received welcome news from their scout.
Commander Fahler had been assassinated.
Yet, this piece of news brought them new headaches.
“Kil, Gil. I thought you guys failed your attempt?”
“Mmm.. do you think it’s possible he died to the poison??”
Rojan shook his head. “In the middle of his camp? If you’d shot him somewhere closer to the heart or brain, perhaps, but someone of his caliber wouldn’t have died before a doctor treated that poison. Someone who was smart enough to turn to such force to keep his troops intact so quickly isn’t someone who would die to something so simple.”
Kil and Gil were famed assassins from the East, an area of land ruled under the Alliance of the Rising Sun. Smaller in stature, and well trained and experienced in concealing themselves, the two had several hundred assassinations under their belt.
Thus, they were the perfect people to send to assassinate an enemy commander in the middle of their camp.
Yet, they had failed in their mission.
So, how had a third party succeeded in their attempt? And why had they assassinated Commander Fahler in the first place?
Was this third party helping them, or did they have their own agenda?
Rojan scratched his head, annoyed. The rest of the room stayed silent - they all knew Rojan well enough to know that when Rojan scratched his head, it was because he was concentrating his hardest.
After Rojan thought about it for a while, he shrugged, then addressed the room.
“We don’t know who this third part is, and we don’t know why they killed Commander Fahler. All we do know is that they exist, and they have not shown any malicious intent towards us.
“The key of the matter is to take things as they stand - Commander Fahler is dead, and we are likely to be dealing with a less cohesive offensive from the Peslir forces tomorrow, if any.
“On that front, we should proceed as planned. If anything, I’m rather worried about their navy. We can’t allow them to bombard and assault the city from sea with impunity.”
Rojan walked to a table on the side of the room and lifted a contraption that had been resting on it.
“Are we sure this will work?”
The contraption was actually just a crossbow - but slightly bigger. The reason for it being slightly bigger, was because the payload it would be sending off was not a but a simple arrow.
It was a “hook” arrow, manufactured to pierce through wood, extend “claws” on the other side, and thus provide a solid grasping point. The arrow was then connected to a rope, which could be used to pull oneself toward whatever structure they’d just attached the hook arrow to.
The biggest problem with this contraption, however, was its range.The hook arrow itself was heavier than normal arrows. Then, the rope attached to it was rather heavy as well - despite their best efforts.
As such such, although crossbows were typically effective from well over a hundred feet out, one had to be within thirty feet in order for the arrow to still be moving fast enough to pierce an inch of wood.
That was too close. Too risky.
On land, at least.
But underwater, that was a different story.
“It’s been tested, along with the...hollow poles.”
“Man, we’re really pulling out all the stops for this one, huh.”
“Yep.”