Chapitre 7: Thief beating
Tyro was unquestionably talented For a half orc, he would keep himself from clumsiness in movement which usually represented his people. In practice, he stepped aside from Adrian's first charge and disappeared from direct view into the labyrinthine interior of the warehouse, dimly lit.
The air whistled violently as Adrian's blade sliced past Tyro's ear; the wind gust collided with his face to freeze him through. Tyro could feel the raw force of the strike, the kind that would cleave him in half if it landed. Cold beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
He had thought it was going to be fine, avoiding the first blow from Adrian. How dangerous a deception it was.
Dangling on his feet would only prolong the inevitable. Desperation filled Tyro's mind as he tried to turn things around: He had turned and lunged with his shining twin daggers. Slim were the chances but Tyro had no option; retreating any further only hastened his end.
For all the battles Tyro had won under the cover of stealth and ambush, a frontal assault had never been in his book. There was no warehouse shadow in which to fade to obscurity, no way to become nothing. It was kill or be killed, and Tyro knew which one was to be his fate.
That was when he charged, and Adrian's heavy boot slammed into his abdomen, driving all the air from Tyro's lungs. His body creaked and then crumpled under the force, flying several metres to land in a heap. His daggers clattered uselessly to the ground. Gasping and writhing, he struggled to regain control of his limbs.
Adrian didn't offer respite. Tyro clutched at his ribcage in a spasm of agony as he watched Adrian's long sword flashing in the flickering light as it curved towards him without a thought to death.
Tyro had no time to shout for it. A shock went through his neck. Then darkness fell upon him as the head parted from the shoulders.
Adrian stood tall over the body, his sword drinking the spilling blood. Adrian preferred this method of killing since, apart from the swift, efficient kill, decapitation delivered a psychological shock to those who watched it happen. The view of their leader's decapitated head sent shivers of fear running down the spine of tyro's remaining soldiers, a chain reaction of fear
The dozen or so men who, through some solemn means, had sworn themselves to Tyro now froze with fear. They had been shaken already by the relentless intimidation of Adrian, but their will to fight was shattered entirely when their leader lay dead almost immediately.
Adrian needn't have said a word. His slow deliberate step forward unnerved them. One of Tyro's men couldn't take in the suffocating pressure imposed by Adrian's blood-soaked presence and turned back to make a dash for the door.
That was all it took. Like tumbling dominoes, the rest of Tyro's troops were soon joining in as their collective panic took hold.
Adrian was relentless. He chased them with the calculated efficacy of a predator. His blade found its mark time after time, cutting down four of the fleeing mercenaries before they could escape the warehouse.
The last few remaining burst open the warehouse door and spilled onto the streets of Revernus. Adrian took a step back from his victims, holstered his blade, and began to breathe steadily. His strategy had paid off perfectly. He had inflicted maximum damage with minimal effort, using fear and precision.
But, as Adrian stepped back to go towards the door in an attempt to catch the running cowards, a sound halted him.
The sharp twang of bowstrings sliced through the air, followed by the dull thunk of arrows embedding themselves into the barely opened wooden door frame. Adrian instinctively stepped back.
"Damn it," he growled, cold drops of sweat forming on his brow. "Caius did not waste much time."
Outside, Caius had arrived with forty or fifty mercenaries before the warehouse. Among them were skilled archers and crossbowmen who had their sights on the open entrances of the warehouse. Adrian cursed under his breath after realising the precariousness of his situation.
In melee, Adrian had no doubts; he could hack his way through a hundred men. With bowmen, though, he might find it hard to keep from turning into a pincushion sometimes.
"Come out, Adrian!" a shrill voice was carried out from the window, dripping with triumphant self-assurance.
Right away, Adrian knew the voice, Caius' son. The young half-orc was always an arrogant coward upheld by his father. He couldn't help but sneer at the thought of how the little brat would believe he had won.
"Caius Jr," Adrian exclaimed mockingly, his voice dripping with contempt. "You are shouting like a baby, aren't you? Don't go scurrying under your father's skirt and drinking milk? You are never worth my time. Bring that father of yours here—I want to talk to him."
The taunt really connected. Coming through the window, Adrian heard Junior Caius scream incoherent curses, his voice now shaking with rage. But before the half-orc could get any louder, an older, steadier voice cut through the chaos.
"Shut up", Caius barked, immediately silencing his son.
Adrian listened closely as Caius continued. "Lay down your arms," he stated in a muted yet commanding voice. The archers hesitated for a moment and then slowly laid their bows on the ground.
"Adrian," Caius said, his voice very nearly cordial. "We've known each other for years. Whatever differences we have, surely we can resolve them without more bloodshed."
Adrian couldn't help but smile. "Save your breath, Caius. I know you long enough to see through your lies. You are going to let me walk out of here alive? That's a good joke. What is it that you really want? Spit it out!
Caius' face unseen turned black, and his voice was the crack of a whip. "You killed Tyro, one of my most trusted men, and you broke the morale of my regiment. If you have any excuse for this, speak now.". Adrian's laughter was bitter and cold. "You want an explanation? Well okay, I don't report to you. Tyro turned against me, and he paid the price.
And for the rest of your poodles, they ran for cover like rats. Now go on, Caius, tell me what your excuse is for hanging onto power like a pathetic old man clinging on for dear life?
Adrian could hear the mutterings outside from the mercenaries. He could feel Caius' crumbling grasp on control of the story; Caius also knew it. Almost inaudibly, he stated, "You are surrounded, Adrian. You cannot win".
Adrian's smile broadened. "You underestimated me, Caius. That is your first error.". And with that said, Adrian stepped back from the door after closing it as fast as he could, retreating deeper into the warehouse. He didn't want to give up and knew that Caius was not done with his dirty tricks yet. This was not over - not by a long shot.
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