Chapter 18: Quiet like

Drac, Marina and Bob lounge at the corner table at the inn's saloon around noon. Karl, the bald bartender, serves lunch to the group free of charge. 

"So, this is the run-down of what we know. Barlow, our bandit leader, raids small towns for food and sometimes the occasional woman or two. But in these recent months Barlow went into the slave selling business. His biggest client Mor, as he so gracefully confessed, needed slaves to build a monument. Someone Mor works for need it to be built in secret. And with slaves it will be harder to track and are disposable."

Table is silent but Bob is chewing his chicken. 

"So the bastard Barlow must be really pissed off." 

"Ofcourse. We killed a lot of his crew, his buyer had 'disappeared' and his slaves were brought back home." 

"He is gonna want revenge. Think he would attack Furling?" Marina asks.

"There is a good chance." Drac moves close to the table. "But I suggest something to get ahead of him"

"Ooh. I am all ears." Marina grins and moves to the table as well. Bob munches on his second drumstick. 

"The plan is… for me to sneak all quiet like and kill Barlow. And vanished into the night."

Marina's face falls. "That's it?!"

Drac sits back, arms folded. "It's best to stick to what you know best."

Very True.

"Then what? Are we supposed to wait and twiddle our fingers till you come back?!"

"Yeah."

"...Alright then. But kill him a little bit more for me!" Marina gets up from the table with Bob following behind with a third chick drumstick.

Marina looks back, "Don't get too injured." 

Drac smiles. "I'll try my best." Marina walks through saloon doors outside.

Drac sits alone in the corner of the saloon.

You are not going to do it the quiet way, are you?

You know me so well.

I guess the bandit was right after all. 

It is night. Drac looks over a Bandit camp in the middle of the woods. No walls built, indicating that this group likes to move around. Numerous tents circle a big fire. Bandits drink their sorrows away. Dancing around the fire like pixies. Pack Horses and mules hitched aside. Not a person attending. Drac pulls up his hood and mask. Creeping his way to the animals, he cuts their reins attached to posts and trees. Drac creates a fire in his hand to scare the animals away. Drac splits into three. With Ignis their hands, the Dracs light the camp on fire. Every tent, every chest, all engulfed in flame. The Dracs threw their balls of fire at all they could see. Bandits scurry out the burning tents screaming. Many are not in their usual armour or carrying villager-slaying swords. 

An enraged man of muscle came out of the biggest tent. He was wearing his thick metal breastplate. Holding a sword as great as Bob's but blunter. Matted long brown hair. Large nose with skinny bridge. A cleft chin that moves with insane speed as he directs his dumbfounded and drunk band of criminals. Arrows from three directions land in the chests, faces, and eyes of bandits. A desperate attempt to block the arrows with bare arms were made by some, while the others were saved by shields and armour. The arrows stop. The three Dracs dropped within the circle of flame tents, surrounding the criminals. Three Hēilóng's slowly drawn out of their scabbards. 

"T-t-t-the HOOD! THE HOOD HAS COME!" One shouts aloud. Terror ripples through the group. The bandits show anguish on their dirty faces.

Barlow shouts "It's just three! Are you men Cowards?! Kill the man who caused us to suffer!! The bandits look at one another. They know if Drac doesn't die, they die. Their faces become resolute. 

Drac flips his sword in his hand. He disappears.

Hēilóng halfway through a man's skull. Dead man kicked, Drac goes for necks, a right pectoral, sternums, collar bone. Hēilóng hit metal. Shield protects a bandit's head. Drac grabs the shield down. A fast poke to the jugular fell a man. Armours break apart; bones crushed. Three Dracs walk forward, one to go. 

Barlows face is full of disappointment. All the time he spent gathering these bunch of nothings to make them something. Something useful for him. Their blood will feed these woods. 

Barlow becomes rage. "I WILL KILL YOU, BASTAAARD!!" 

Drac's Copies disappear. Drac Aura is set ablaze.

Barlow unleashed an Aura that shakes the air. He has truly given his all. Flame of the Soul. 

Barlow starts his attack from above and breaks earth. Air cracks at every swing of the big man's sword. Wind blows with Barlow movement. Drac steps aside to dodge, diverting a strike form under, evades one from the right corner. Drac relaxes his body. His whole focus is in his eyes. Barlow's sword moves slowly like Drac is sparring with Marina. Drac evades attack with fluidity. Dance like footwork that directs Barlow like a bull. Drac evades a downward strike like a drunk dancer. He raised Hēilóng to stab between the forearm and bicep. Barlow Screams out a guttural growl. The Matted man holds his arm in agony. Barlow blue eyes look at Dracs. Tears form, dripping on Hēilóng hilt as Drac punctures Barlow's neck. 

Back to Furling?

Drac pulls out his Sword from his target. 

…Yes.

"So after I laid out the plan for the river attack, Drac agreed immediately. I mean, who else could he rely on." Marina's crowd of listeners grunt in agreement. 

"Hahaha, you don't actually believe her right?" Karl says from the back.

A listener says. "No. But she's giving us free alcohol." the crowd of listeners grunt in agreement. 

"Hey! Wha-"

Drac pushes into the saloon. Drac looks weary. Unaware of nothing but the way to his room.

"Drac. Drac!" Marina runs to meet him. Drac turns around, mask and hood on. A cold chill runs down her body. Is this what his enemy sees?

Drac brightens up at the sight of her. He brings his mask down. "Oh. Hey." Drac manages a small smile.

"So… Barlow."

Drac looks at her properly. "It is done." He swifty turns around on the way to his room.

"Drac! See you in the morning, for my lesson!"

"See you then." Drac says as he walks to his door. Door shut. 

Marina stares at Drac and hopes she will meet him at the training area.