Sigismond Security Solutions Shows Their Skill

"Sigsmond Security Solutions has mysterious origins, but its rise was anything but so."

"It is only known that they were ex-soldiers of Lucius Aurellion, and this revelation only came after their first mission where their strength was revealed."

"Where outnumbered 3/1…."

"They slaughtered their enemies like defenceless livestock."

"But while these feats were impressive, it cast some doubt on their origin."

"Were they merely just elite ex-soldiers of Spider of Chavaria, one of the many who left the military in anger …."

"Or something more."

"Something much more controlled by an invisible hand that I could not see."

Telx, an advisor to Count Nidor Parge.

…..

"You're telling me Count Nidor Parge beat and threw out that merchant?"

Duke Ridorfin said from his throne as he read a report that one of his spies had sent him; also in his court were his advisors and other loyal courtiers. The count was not the most discreet person in the world, so it was easy for the cunning man to track him to that tavern, but what happened there surprised him, for while he was not privy to their hushed conversations and scheming, he was taken aback by its result.

"My lord, it seems this disobedient count has finally seen the errors of his ways and respects your authority! Why else would he turn on a friend so quickly? He must have heard that they went against you and met with them to punish them for their impudence."

One of his nobles said in a fawning manner this was Baron Urias, one of the duke's direct vassals who was lord of land that was right next to the duke's own direct fiefs, a man of little virtue and ability who got to where he was by his extraordinary talent for bootlicking if that could even be called a talent.

He was always the first to congratulate the cunning duke when he succeeded in something, stroking the proud noble ego and becoming one of his flatters at court who did anything to remain in his lieges favour.

'What could have happened for the count to turn a friend so completely? It cannot be fear of him as the good count feared nothing, for he did not the have the name of 'The Gliding Grimreaper' for nothing chopping off heads as he flew overhead his large angel-like wings making him look like a blazing god of fire with no anti-magic crystals around as his flame covered axe reaped life after life.'

'No, this was a conspiracy.'

"Fool!"

"It's a trick because that stunted fool revealed himself, so obviously, he had to put on some show of rejection whether he wanted to help or not, or his intentions would be clear as day! If that bastard were afraid of my power, he wouldn't have resisted my will for so long or refuse to work with me!"

Duke Ridorfin shouted when he heard what his loyal bootlicking noble said. Usually, he liked to indulge in the barons' bootlicking, but when faced with a situation like this, he wanted ideas, not praise for his power, which he knew was like a blade waiting to fall on these courtiers' heads, bending them to his will.

This was why Ridorfin was feared, as all tricks seemed useless before him, each being foreseen by the terrifying insight of the cunning man who would use all these tricks against his enemies, always staying one step ahead of them.

After being reprimanded by the duke, the baron did not speak up again, for unlike the intelligent duke, he was not a man who could see through a conspiracy like Ridorfin, who always planned for all eventualities. Or at least people thought he couldn't.

"Mertin!"

The duke called out, and a slimy-skinned human appeared from the king's court with bulging bright yellow froglike eyes. His hands and feet were slightly webbed, giving him strong swimming and aquatic prowess, while his jaw was rounded, and his throat grew and fell, inflating and deflating like an inflatable set of lungs.

"Send for Wilson!"

…..

Ralston's merchant caravan rolled through the woods, the carts filled with wine and other fine goods while riding at fixed intervals were groups of soldiers from Sigsmond's security service clad in mail, their horses snorting every now and then.

Birds chirped in the treetops, the melody of their singing like the calm before the storm relaxed Sigsmond, who breathed in the fresh forest air contently before his facial expression froze and his eyes, which were once relaxed, turned sharp and serious.

'They have finally arrived.'

Sigsmond thought, feeling a new small set of vibrations coming from the west and sighing slightly.

As the convoy was heading from the south to the north, it meant that it could not be his men, and if they were not his men, then it could only mean one thing.

The duke's hidden troops had arrived.

Even though he had his own troops hidden in that direction, the skilled commander of the Pelican Guards had already accounted for them and so put up his guard, readying himself for the small battle to come.

Having made his preparations, he was confident in victory and waited for his opponents to appear, trusting his men to be able to defend themselves from the ambush to come as to ensure the dukes fell into their trap, they had to believe that they had the element of surprise though only a fool would offend someone like the duke and not make preparations for his retaliation.

And Sigismond was not disappointed.

Only a few minutes after this new cavalry arrived, the vibrations that passed through the ground only got bigger and bigger until a volley of arrows flew out from the trees surrounding them and fell on the convoy piercing into Ralston's servants, killing the poor sods who were sacrificial lambs being slaughtered on the alter of victory.

The Pelican guards, veterans of years of bloody wars, reacted quickly, raising their shields to protect themselves from this rain of arrows, while one who responded a second later than his comrades was saved from the jaws of death by Sigismond, who cast a spell creating a magical barrier that deflected the arrow that fell clattered lifelessly to the ground.

"Charge!

A voice shouted, unwilling to let the mercenaries gather together to fight; he charged out of the woods on a chestnut brown horse, the sword in his hands glinting in the light, followed by his men who whooped and hollered, looking like wolves who had just seen a fresh slab of meat be delivered to them on a silver platter.

All these bandits wore light leather armour, which was common among those who focused on speed, stealth and surprise to overwhelm their opponents rather than skill at arms. If it were not because they had help from a powerful, influential figure and outnumbered these caravan guards nearly 6-1, these bandits would not have dared to attack a well-armed convoy.

This showed how much of a priority the duke had put on this operation for him. It had to succeed! It could not fail! If it succeeded, then his power would only be consolidated more deeply, but if it failed, then cracks would start to show, and his opponents could start exploiting these cracks to create a flood to drown out Ridorfin's power.

This light armour, while only offering limited protection from the steel that most mercenaries wielded, the light suits of leather allowed them instead to be faster than their opponents in their heavy mail armour and escape if the situation turned against them, allowing them to skulk back into the shadows of the forest like ghosts while their pursuers clad in mail panted trying in vain to catch them.

These bandits also had good horses, a gift from their patron who sent them juicy targets to plunder while using his influence to ensure that the perpetrators were never caught and allowed them to be turned into a formidable light cavalry that appeared like ghosts appearing and disappearing at will leaving on destruction in their wake. Only the bandit leadership knew the true identity of their mysterious backer, and these leaders each wore mail armour instead of leather, having come with it whether disgraced soldiers or from some other background; the bandits did not care. Because since these people had appeared, their days had been good, filled with clinking golden coins and plunder that they spent sneaking into the towns and villages nearby and indulging in vices that only the rich could.

A few of the more veteran bandits had sets of mail looted from their former victims, though most had holes from where their wearer had been killed or stolen from wary travellers on the road who put their lives before their valuables, reluctantly handing them over to these thieves in exchange for their lives.

Possessions and gold could always be gotten again, but as for your life, you only had one, and once snuffed out, even the gods, with their divine strength, were powerless and would struggle to recover it, unable to overturn such fundamental laws of the world.

The bandits looked jubilant as they fell on the convoy, expecting it to be like all the others they had ambushed, but this one was different. Instead of panicked, terrified mercenaries, they were met with the cold and ruthless Pelican Guard wielding deadly pointed spears steel as they charged fearlessly towards them.

To prepare for this engagement, Darius had asked for some of the payment for guarding the caravan in advance, and with this money, he bought the best spears the blacksmiths of the duchy had to offer.

For two days and nights, the light in the forges never dimmed, and black smog continued to be pumped into the virtual world atmosphere, creating an ominous black cloud that never ceased to be an omen of the lives these creations would destroy as blacksmiths pounded steel into spear tips one after the other.

Thanks to their tireless efforts and the coin that continually flowed in, it only took 2 days for them to complete the 150 spears Darius had requested. Each was as long as a lance, but unlike lances that habitually break on impact, these spears were stout and sturdy, made from the oldest and strongest wood and trees available, allowing them to skewer one man after another.

The two sides met across the long line of carts. The Pelican Guards stabbed their spears into their foes with precision, each taking a life, and in a flash, 50 bandits had died, as their surviving comrades looked around in shock.

'Who were these demons who could kill them in an instant? Weren't they just a recently organised mercenary group? How could they be so skilled?'

The bandits wondered as another person also looked on with fear, his eyes seeming to pop out of his head as he watched the battlefield below.

Packard and his men had stayed in the woods. Only if the bandits somehow struggled to kill the 50 guards with 200 men would he and his battle-hardened mercenaries intervene to finish them off, but what he saw surpassed all his expectations.

'It wasn't just that Lucian person! All of these were that skilled!'

Captain Packard thought that the 50 demons before them were so skilled that even he was not confident in beating them one-on-one, even though he was an expert fighter!

But what made him more afraid was that all these men called that Sigismond person 'captain'. Doesn't that mean that he is better than them? And if he is better than them, then doesn't that mean that he is a master fighter?

A master fighter! What was a master fighter? It was a true expert who could single-handedly kill hundreds of elite troops, as there was a reason why the gap between an expert and a master was so large. In fact, if Sigismond were a master, they would be powerless and have to rely on the hidden card that the duke had left them.

But the man had shown no outstanding martial skill during that brief skirmish except an exceptional ability to command, which calmed him down as he had little reason to suppress his strength now that he and his men had been attacked. As long as he and his men worked with the remaining bandits, it should be easy to kill this formidable Chavarian cavalry one by one.

The old mercenary had seen much of the world and thought that only the royal guards of Nathia, the most respected and strongest force in the kingdom under the direct control of the royal family, would stand a chance against these men man-to-man.

It was then he realised that he could not wait. He had to lead his men in now for there to be any chance of victory, as even the best troops can do nothing against overwhelming numbers!

The Red Blades had committed 200 elite men to this mission under the command of Packard, who begged his leader to allow him to command and avenge himself on these arrogant men who had publicly humiliated him. Initially, only 100 men were meant to go, but Packard managed to get 100 more as his old friends in the group gathered together to avenge him and complete this mission that was so important to the Duke of Detarnor.

"Charge! Kill these arrogant bastards!"

"May our blades be bathed in crimson!"

Captain Packard shouted the motto of The Red Blades, a promise to spill the blood of their enemies and charged towards the merchant caravan, not knowing the grim fate that awaited them at the end of their road.

The 50 Pelican Guards disguised as mercenaries quickly regrouped, having somehow managed to all charge towards the same point, allowing them to come together as one formidable unit and another 50 men died to their spears as they charged back towards the frightened bandits, harvesting their lives like it was a crop. Compared to the elite soldiers of great nations that they had fought for over a decade, these men, with their crude swords and spears, were nothing but child's play to these elite killing machines. But seeing another cloud of dust appear, they frowned even though the bandit numbers had been cut in half.

This is because these men approaching would be harder to deal with veteran mercenaries who were far better than bandits who had never stood in the flames of war.

At the head of the dust cloud rode Packard. Using his experience, he managed to use his spear to stab one of Ralston's mercenaries in the heart, killing him instantly when a voice came from behind and sent a shiver down his spine as a horn sounded and from behind The red blades 50 more of the demonic cavalry appeared charging into his rear while another 50 charged from the other side killing off the bandits who chose to loot something and leave as The Red Blade mercenaries once the feared and dominators of the duchy fell dead one by one under the sword of the merciless Pelican Guards.

The trap Sigismond had hatched had been sprung, and it promised to end the lives of all involved in the Duke's scheme, for numbers were nothing without a strategy.

"Ahh, it's you! The guy I beat down into the dirt? I should have thought you would come for revenge!"

Lucian, who was leading this detachment of cavalry, greeted his old rival with a smile, recognising the shivering man whom he beat up, forgetting his name as it would just be another to add to the hundreds that he had already sent to hell in his long career of soldiering.