11 The Lone Shadowdark

Wroe was a skilled and brave sword fighter, as Barza had hoped. But as the first guard cried out, another came. And soon after, came another.

Barza nervously looked to the big man crouched behind a bush, beside him, "Mister Dragan… Should we…?"

The massive brute scoffed and shook his head, "Pff. Nah! He'll be fine!"

How could he find this situation funny? 

"But Mister Dragan--"

"Look, man," Dragan pointed all the fingers of his hand at Barza repeatedly, to emphasize, "We gotta stick. to. the plan."

Barza looked over their protective bush, uncertain if it was really wise to listen to Dragan. 

Tarquin Wroe stood tall, an eerily imposing image. Shining metal breastplate and pauldrons. Unfailing smile and flowing, silky smooth hair. He was the perfect portrait of a legendary hero.

But as Wroe fought the guards, Barza could see the man's movements begin to slow and his breaths become more labored. Wroe had even sustained a bruise on his left cheek and the leathers on his arms and legs had taken a couple of superficial cuts.

Through the opened door of the manor, Barza heard the clatter of leather and plate-- yet another squad would be arriving to further outnumber Wroe. Barza regripped his two swords as Dragan rolled his eyes.

"You aren't gonna stick to the plan, dude?"

"Mister Wroe needs help. And if you won't do it, I will."

"Well, alright, bud." The big man shrugged, "Just don't be surprised when Boss rips you a new one."

Barza furrowed his brow and looked away in deep thought. He was fairly certain Mister Wroe said that Boss-- err... Sir Tycon didn't like the hide-in-the-bush plan.

He shook the useless thoughts away, "Doesn't matter. I'm going."

Barza leapt to the side, allowing his shoulder to smoothly transition him into a combat roll. Righting himself, he sent a quick upward slash to deflect a guardsman's warspear before she could strike at Tarquin's blind spot. With a turn, he used the momentum to strike another guard's longsword, the resounding clang sending the weapon flying across the yard, several fulms 1away.

He stood beside Wroe, whose face had somehow taken on a more-amused smirk. Faced with Wroe's soul-piercing blue eyes, however, Barza couldn't help but look away.

"I h-hope you don't mind me joining you, Mister Wroe."

Wroe held his sword, pointed strictly upwards, to his smiling face, a knight's militaristic dueling pose.

"Not at all, Mister Barza. I was beginning to fear I'd be the only hero tonight."

Barza looked to Wroe in awe. His spirit was roused and the fear that had gripped his heart was replaced by pride.

But seeing his dashing and androgynous figure… it felt like swirling fish were swimming circles in his stomach.

'...W-wait, am I falling in love? No way! I'm only into short-haired girl-next-door type girls! Ones named Sorina!'

"Here they come again, Mister Barza!" Wroe warned.

The pair fought valiantly against the guards for a few exchanges, the energized Barza swinging his blades with zealous ferocity.

This was it. Barza was working for Guild Invictus now. He'd protect his new life with his own two hands. 

"Back off!" Barza roared, swinging his blades in a cross-cutting arc. A few guards jumped back to dodge, but his target took two deep gashes on his leather-armored chest.

"You cut me, Barza, you BASTARD!" the wounded guard yelled.

Barza hesitated and retreated a step back, "I uh… Sorry, John."

"Watch it," Wroe calmly suggested. 

Barza lifted his blades reflexively in a cross-pattern block, receiving a heavy blow from a halberd. His body was drenched in sweat from fighting, and he felt his stiff muscles struggle and strain to push the weapon away. A swift kick to the gut from the halberdier ended Barza's struggle, forcing him back. Acting out of reflex, he was able to roll backward and back on his feet. 

Guard Captain Varen spun his halberd in a smooth flourish, as disappointment set into the lines on his aged face. His black-and-white pepper beard and mustache framed a deep frown. 

Varen pointed to his guards, "You two, get medical supplies. You, the blonde girl, get Miss Seldin."

The three guards stood and responded in a series of salutes and 'Yes, Captain's. As a credit to their formal training, they ran off, not daring to look back.

"And you, Barza…" Varen shook his head, "Are the Shadowdark Wolves rebelling against House Tavor?"

A nearby bush snorted with barely-contained laughter, but Barza quickly answered to avoid suspicion.

"Guard Captain Varen… The Shadowdark Wolves are no more…"

Barza wiped the blood from his mouth. Varen's kick and the fight reset made him realize that he was injured. Furthermore, his two swords were damaged in the clash. He tossed the two of them away, drawing another blade and his hatchet.

Slowly and deliberately, Barza held his weapons forward in a combat pose, "Now it is only I... The Lone Shadowdark."

The nearby bush shook with thunderous laughter, followed by a single man's applause, and an 'ohhh, man.'

Varen, Barza, and the guards looked over to the bush behind Wroe. The tall blue-haired boy shrugged and smiled with his eyes closed, opting not to add to his heroic speech. 

Varen cleared his throat to continue, stroking his neatly trimmed beard.

"Even so, Barza, why don't you stand down?" The older man reasoned, "You know that you're no match for Seldin."

Barza shook his head, "I can't... Captain Varen, a young boy's gone missing."

Varen's face darkened, "Those are just rumors, Barza. There is no proof that Baron Tavor participates in such vile--"

"Just rumors, Captain? The rumors keep coming! And people keep going missing! And you and I both know that no one's mounted an investigation. Even the Adventurer's Guild hasn't been able to intervene!" Barza yelled back.

It didn't make sense. He'd worked with Guard Captain Varen before and he was an honest, fair man.

"That's because there's no evidence!" Varen exclaimed. The volume in his response trailed helplessly.

Wroe stepped forward, his sword sheathed, and his hands folded. "If I may, gentlemen..."

Varen and Barza glanced at each other, before again turning to the tall, lanky boy.

With a gentle smile, the boy's eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight, "There is a dark mist surrounding the manor. There are equally dark forces at play, perhaps the kind that requires a blood sacrifice?"

With a look of worry, Varen shifted uncomfortably, "That's a heavy accusation, young man."

"My eyes see the truth that most would prefer never come to light," Wroe replied simply.

"But still, it is an issue that should be submitted to the Adventurer's Guild..." Varen bared his teeth in a grimace, "They can request for a Scholar or Priest to verify, then an investigation can be launched."

Wroe gave a disinterested shrug, not bothering to verbalize a response.

"There's no time! A life is at stake!" Barza yelled. He had to make the Guard Captain see reason. 

Guard Captain Varen pursed his lips, "So I suppose there's no chance that the two of you would relinquish your weapons and come quietly?"

Barza stretched his arms, again resuming his combat stance, "Sorry, Captain. I won't be following your orders, anymore."

Varen nodded slowly... He turned to his guards and raised his voice, "The Shadowdark Wolves have turned traitor to House Tavor. Your orders are to detain them until Seldin arrives."

Turning to Barza, Varen assumed an offensive stance, ready to bring the oppressive weight of his halberd down again upon the young man.

"I had hoped to be civil, on account of you being friends with my niece. 'Tis a shame, Barza!"

"That's not my name, old man," Barza grit his teeth. With a yell, he leaped into the crowd of guards, launching a flurry of steel, fueled by recklessness, fear, and adrenaline.

"My name... is... the LONE. SHADOWDARK!!!"