Adrian felt someone pull him back, it was Sir Cordell. Suddenly, soldiers with shields surged in front of him and Clive, forming a protective wall. A stone hurled just overhead, and Adrian quickly ducked his head.
"Settle down! Fall back now!" Clive ordered, his voice roaring over chaos.
Amidst the shouting, however, the laughter of the enemy remained prominent, mocking them. Soon, Adrian found himself back behind the blockade of spikes, sheltered by thick wood pillar.
"Order the men not to rush the enemy." Adrian said to Sir Cordell immediately. He knew he couldn't easily stop the skirmish now that blood had been spilled, but they could not afford to overextend and chase the enemy into a potential trap.
The men, especially those from Lord Cenroy's faction, needed to vent, and so they would, but it had to be controlled.
The enemy could have hidden their entire army somewhere, and a chaotic camp could easily be defeated by them.
Sir Cordell nodded and walked away, his voice booming commands. Dexton stepped in to replace him as guard, while Sir Clive disappeared into the ranks.
"So much for your great taunting words, milord." Dexton chuckled, his hand resting on the weapon at his waist as his eyes darted around, ready for any stray arrows or stones.
Adrian gave a wry smile. "The enemy got the last laugh tonight." He shook his head. "But hopefully for the last time."
After a few minutes, the exchange of arrows and stones died down as the enemy vanished into the distance. However, Adrian could see bodies scattered in the dark, and they weren't just the enemy's.
The colors of Lord Cenroy's forces were visible among the fallen. It seemed some hot-headed soldiers had charged, believing the rest of the army would follow. They had been wrong.
In the daylight, it might have been safe to pursue while remaining aware of their surroundings, but the blanket of night was a weapon used against them. Who knew what the enemy hid in the shadows?
Eventually, Adrian found Sir Clive speaking with a group of soldiers from Cenroy's command. One of them was a man with greying hair.
"Lord Harrow, I hope you don't see any more trouble coming?" Clive asked.
"Not unless the enemy has something more planned." Adrian responded, his gaze drifting to the soldiers beside Sir Clive.
"I was just hearing what happened to them." Sir Clive said. "Apparently, it was Sir Nixon's cousin who ordered the attack."
"Cousin? Where is he now?"
"Dead." Sir Clive said with a heavy sigh. "He tried to lead a charge against the enemy. He was one of the first casualties."
Adrian clicked his tongue and sighed. Sir Clive continued, "I have these men here to assure us their force will behave until a new leader arrives."
Adrian nodded at the soldiers, who returned the gesture solemnly.
"Come, Lord Harrow. Now that Sir Nixon is dead, we must change our plans."
At the meeting that night, Sir Cordell joined Adrian as they needed a mind as experienced as his now that Sir Nixon was gone. Outside, the patrols were doubled.
The remaining forces back at the new port city would slowly begin transporting soldiers here by tomorrow, and if the enemy noticed, they would surely do their best to intercept them.
The meeting lasted nearly two hours before Sir Clive, exhausted, finally called it a night. Adrian spent an hour more sitting on a log by the fire, staring up at the stars before finally retiring to his tent.
--
Gnull emerged from the stack of hay where he had been hiding for hours now, the few horses in the camp none the wiser that an enemy had infiltrated during the earlier chaos. His clothes blended perfectly with the darkness, and his footsteps were so light that a prey wouldn't know he was behind them until it was too late.
To Gnull, the night was his greatest friend right now.
He leaned behind a small tent, listening to the rhythmic sounds of sleeping soldiers inside, and peered at his surroundings with a sneer.
'These fools put all their attention on their periphery, never realizing someone is already inside' He thought.
He scanned the camp for his target's tent, the colors of grey. He spotted a large pavilion that looked promising. Originally, his target was meant to be the Royal Prince's knight, but plans had changed. He had a new mark now…
Harlow or something. It didn't matter what his name was, the boy was dying tonight.
As he drew closer under the cover of shadows, he noticed guards around it. He paused for a moment, thinking, before setting a distraction. Moments later, a small fire suddenly flared up on a nearby barrel.
The guards, rushed toward the flames to extinguish them lest it spread.
In that instant, a shadowy silhouette darted toward the tent, pulled back the flap, and rolled inside.
Gnull nearly laughed at how easy it had been, inwardly mocking the stupidity of the Sunhaven lords. He was more certain than ever that they could repel the Kingdom's coming attack. Once they won, the Kingdom wouldn't dare strike again for years, giving his people the chance to forge a new nation of their own.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he let his eyes adjust to the dim interior. He spied a silhouette on a bed behind a hanging cloth divider, sleeping soundly. Gnull approached stealthily, glancing around for any valuables he might swipe, but found nothing of note.
Slowly, he pulled back the divider. Seeing the young lord sleeping so peacefully made Gnull want to cackle. Having such a high-born life at his mercy made him want to mock the boy, to whisper how fragile his lordship truly was in the face of an assassin's blade.
But he reined in the impulse and drew his dagger. As much as he wanted to take the head as a trophy for the chief, it would leave too much of a trail. With one swift motion, he sliced the sleeping lord's throat.
Blood spurted immediately. The young man jolted awake, but Gnull knew it was already too late.
He moved to plunge his dagger into the boy's heart to silence him, but the lord suddenly grabbed his wrist. Gnull sneered, expecting a futile struggle, until the boy pulled him forward with terrifying strength and smashed his forehead into Gnull's face.
Gnull stumbled back, clutching a shattered, bloody nose. "What?!"
He watched in horror as the bloodstained lord sprang to his feet, grabbed a heavy ceramic jar, and hurled it. It caught Gnull square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could recover, the lord charged, ramming into him and pinning him to the ground.
Dazed, Gnull tried to stab, but the boy pinned his arm and began raining brutal punches down on his face.
Blood, not his own, dripped onto his vision. Gnull tried to resist, his free hand clawing towards the young lord's neck, intent on worsening the wound there. For a brief second, he touched the skin where he had just carved a lethal wound, only to freeze in pure shock.
The pause was fatal. The lord continued to pound his face.
When the assault finally stopped, Gnull could feel nothing but agony. He was blind in one eye from the swelling and cuts, his head rang with a deafening roar. His body was numb, refusing every command to move or flee.
He knew his end had come.
He watched through his one remaining eye as the lord pulled away. Despite the looming darkness, one mystery plagued Gnull's dying mind.
"Ugh... ho... how?" He wheezed, his voice broken.
The young lord reached up and wiped the thick blood off his neck, revealing smooth, unwounded skin.
"The dead don't need to know." Adrian said.
Then, the blackness took him.
--
Adrian stumbled back, staring down at the defeated assassin on the ground. He blinked several times, his breath coming in gasps, still shocked by what happened and reached up to touch his neck. The skin was smooth, the lethal cut from moments ago was now fully healed.
'If the assassin had driven the blade through my heart or into my eye, I would have been killed instantly.' he realized. 'My gift of mending would have been useless.'
He had never been closer to death than he was just now, not even when he'd been trapped and outnumbered on the enemy ship. He could have died right here in his own tent, and he wouldn't have even known it.
The thought sent a wave of dread through him, a cold chill creeping up in his bones.
He heard movement and frantic voices outside. The guards had finally noticed the commotion.
Adrian sprang into action. He snatched the blade the assassin had dropped and sliced the man's throat in turn, finishing the job just as the tent flap was thrown open. A pair of guards surged inside.
"Milord?!"
Their torches flared, lighting up the tent and the light revealed Adrian's blood-drenched figure standing over the dying intruder. Adrian looked at them, his voice steady despite his racing heart, and uttered a single word…
"Assassin!"