Inside a run-down village, a man was running.
Drool and snoot were dropping from his face, picked up by the wind as if making a path towards him. The person didn't even look back, just trying to escape to the bigger group.
Although, that was for naught.
His legs couldn't even get him out of the town and the party has left 1 day in advance while leaving them in case someone arrives.
Someone did.
But they quickly skewered one of his friends before they were noticed. The weirdo's smile scared him away regardless of his fighting capability. There was a reason why his group was left behind.
William was not skillful nor clever beyond having common sense which a lot of close people lacked. Henry was airheaded to the point he looked at grass for minutes and Bar who died was just short.
His chest weaved up and down while gasping. This was an absolute failure. Well, considering how big the place was, the distance he ran was good.
But he wasn't against a normal person.
So William got into a random house.
CREAK
And pissed himself right after because of the door's sound. He quickly closed it and sighed in rel-
"Ah…"
Through the door, an eye was fixated on him. A bright green like emerald.
Like the gemstone, its gaze was cold. Or rather, without any emotions behind it like looking at a bug. While that was closely going to disgust, he got a sense of the situation and got his sword in one of the holes.
At this distance, it was too late for th-
BOOM!
'Huh?'
His sword got blocked. No, it was pushed. The whole front of the building and close to half of William's body were gone in just a moment.
Before his body went limp, his heart beat for one last time. Not for survival, but because of the dread and fear that took over his instincts.
There was nothing humane about this move.
It was akin to a lion munching down a filthy hyena.
.
.
.
.
.
"You suck at this.", Don spoke plainly.
"I am sorry…", Sancho couldn't explain himself when the man he was supposed to knock out was half the person he used to be.
The older boy looked over the damage with slightly raised eyebrows. It screamed unnatural like he thought before. No normal sword move meant to hit 1 person has this radius of destruction and he was pretty sure his squire did not learn anything fancy like a cultivator from Mount Hua.
"It's fine.", He gave up on the line of thought. "While 2 persons would have been even better, we have 1."
They turn to look at the gagged man thrashing around on the floor. Thankfully he was sleeping when Don looked in the surroundings while his hunting dog went outside to play.
"Is torturing fine though…"
"Of course if they hurt the weak so much."
The actual monster of the group nodded weakly. Sir Ector and Sir Kay did not say anything against it when they were together, only barely changing the subject when they caught themselves.
"Forget about it for now. If we wait longer, he will be even more scared.", Don turned to Sancho's waist. "You need a better sword. Each one barely holds on after 1 fight."
"You don't even use your lance anymore after you "fixed" it.", The shortie pouted.
Alas, even his enhanced feminine(?) beauty couldn't make the other back down. He was a monk seeking true justice through hiding like a bastard.
"Not everyone has a lance. It's even weirder I found one intact in the first place. Moreover, I am not Fix-It Felix. It barely holds together and it's half of its supposed length."
"Fix-I-"
"A slip of tongue, don't ask."
Sometimes, Don would say incomprehensible words or names and just pat Sancho's head like he was the dumb one for not knowing.
It was not a good feeling.
"Shouldn't we get rid of the corpses, Sir Don Quixote?", He changed the subject in the end.
"Eh, well. We did leave the other bodies, but that was because there were too many...", He trailed off. "I also don't want to carry corpses all day and be caught without a weapon."
"Okay, then torture the last one and make them an entire mess after killing so the others to arrive think we weren't interested in getting information."
"..."
"..."
Don was the first to turn his head away from Sancho's gaze.
'This is truly the medieval world, huh.'
-
"This is the 4th one…"
Two men were on a roof, looking over the mountain of corpses. The bodies were not Saxons, but they should have been burnt down to a crisp days ago.
They only recently came and saw their men dead. All 12 of them.
Some were given an easy death while others seemed to even lose strength which led to their distorted bodies. They suspected torture, but it seemed unlikely. Their men were simply crushed.
"This doesn't count as fights between us anymore…"
"Yeah, some fuckers are going around and messing up our place. We would have heard of another Saxon group arriving before they even tried something funny."
"So do we try to tell Hengist…", Both of them quietened down.
Their actual leader was not someone to care enough about these numbers and he might even get mad and just kill his people on the spot. It wasn't that he didn't care, but Hengist did have a lot of work to deal with.
He was still trying to gain more land and a group of troublemakers were the least of their worries.
"Fucker, what are you talking about? This is still within our capabilities. At worst, we call Warchief."
"Yeah, right… Hopefully."
The older man smacked down the other's head and sighed. He looked over and saw his men wave their hands, dropping the burning wood on the mountain right after.
There was nothing of worth here anymore.
He can deal with this ongoing issue in the near future.
He was certain of it.
~
I just realized I have to write 20+ years of Britain... fuck.