Chapter 90: The Stranger's Whisper
Ian was stunned. According to his own battle plan, the entire 'Naughty Jokes' company and several sailors were supposed to be guarding the courtyard outside the chapel. He had even posted sentries on the nearby streets. The perimeter should have been watertight.
But where were they? Why was the exit controlled by the enemy, and why had no one come down to report it?
*Could the 'Naughty Jokes' have rebelled?* It made no sense. Even if their captain had wanted to, would the men have followed?
Ian had no time to think. He stared through the gaps in the fishing net. Under the dim, flickering torchlight, he saw the sailors at the front of their column, trapped and entangled, falling one by one under a dense volley of crossbow bolts.
Then, a large group of figures in gold cloaks swarmed forward, wielding war hammers and spears, striking at the helpless prey caught in the nets.
*Gold Cloaks? Why is it the Gold Cloaks?* The moment he clearly saw the enemy, Ian was completely bewildered.
He had never expected the attack to come from the City Watch, an organization that should have been completely beyond the reach of any player.
But if the enemy was the Gold Cloaks, it would explain why his mercenaries on the surface had been neutralized so silently. His lookouts on the streets must have been picked off by Gold Cloaks who already controlled the area. That would have allowed them to ambush the men guarding the chapel door, catching them completely off guard and wiping them out with crossbows.
Ian wasn't surprised that his mercenaries had been eliminated. What he couldn't accept was that the Gold Cloaks were attacking *him*.
The most terrifying and outrageous part was their equipment. The City Watch wasn't issued crossbows or war hammers. They had come here with fishing nets, crossbows, and heavy hammers for one reason: they were specifically targeting men in plate armor. They had come prepared.
Without another thought, Ian slammed his visor shut.
He was in the middle of the crowd and hadn't been targeted in the initial assault. He seized the opportunity, drawing his dagger and beginning to saw frantically at the thick ropes of the net covering his body.
The situation for the others was far worse. The huge net had come down so suddenly that nearly half of Ian's entire force was caught within it. The sailors at the very front had taken the first volley of bolts and were now bearing the brunt of the charge, suffering heavy casualties under the brutal hammer blows.
Fortunately, Bronn had the devil's own luck. The moment the net fell, he had leaped back down the stairs, avoiding entanglement. He now darted forward, his dagger flashing as he cut the net, freeing Rohr. The two of them were immediately swarmed by four or five Gold Cloaks.
On the other side of the melee, the Gold Cloaks seemed to be following orders. They began to consciously converge on Case, who was clad in full plate. They weren't just clearing the trapped men from front to back; they understood that if they took too long with the sailors, the fully armored knight at the rear would have time to free himself. They planned to kill Case while he was still tangled in the net.
Several Gold Cloaks advanced in a line, killing three sailors to open a direct path to him. They fired a volley from their crossbows, but the bolts all glanced off his breastplate with loud *pings*.
Seeing this, Ian felt a flicker of relief. At least they didn't have heavy crossbows. If they did, this fight would already be over.
When their ranged attacks proved ineffective, the Gold Cloaks rushed Case, surrounding him and bludgeoning him with their hammers. The blows failed to do any real damage, but the sheer force and weight kept him pinned, unable to mount any kind of resistance.
At that moment, Ian finally sliced through the last of the ropes binding him. He drew his arming sword, leaped forward, and drove his blade toward the back of a Gold Cloak who was hammering away at Case.
Ian pushed everything else from his mind, focusing only on the core technique Rohr had taught him: keep the sword and forearm in a single, straight line.
He gripped the sword with both hands, aimed the point, and put the full force of his running start into the thrust. His training paid off. The fine steel of his sword punched through the black chainmail as if it were cloth. The point burst through the man's chest, and the Gold Cloak was dead before he hit the ground.
Instantly, the eyes of several nearby Gold Cloaks snapped toward Ian. He felt his heart hammer against his ribs. He tried to yank his sword from the dead man's chest, but it was stuck fast, held tight by bone and sinew.
He had no chance for a second try. The war hammer of another Gold Cloak swung at him, forcing him to abandon his sword. He scrambled backward, fumbling to draw the Valyrian steel greatsword from his back.
As several attackers focused on Ian, Case saw his chance. He grabbed the net entangling him and pulled with all his might. The Gold Cloaks surrounding him, caught off balance, were yanked to the ground.
Seeing this, Ian gave up on drawing his greatsword for the moment and pulled his dagger, stepping forward to help Case.
Suddenly, a Gold Cloak came at him from behind, swinging a hammer straight at his head.
The hammerhead crashed against Ian's helmet. He let out a choked groan as his whole world exploded in a silent, buzzing flash. The sound was everywhere and nowhere, a roar that hovered between heaven and earth.
His helmet's design saved him. The gorget was fixed to the breastplate, which meant the force of the blow was distributed to his shoulders instead of being borne entirely by his neck. Otherwise, even if the hammer hadn't crushed his helm, his neck would have snapped.
The Gold Cloak pressed the attack, striking again from the side as Ian staggered, dizzy and disoriented. Ian subconsciously raised an arm to block, but his body wouldn't obey. He took the second blow squarely on his chestplate. The hammerhead glanced off the curved steel, not even leaving a dent, but Ian's balance was gone. He fell backward, crashing hard to the ground.
Lying there, his mind was a spinning vortex of confusion. Through the narrow eye-slit of his visor, he saw the Gold Cloak who had attacked him raise his hammer a third time, aiming for his face.
The buzzing in his ears grew louder, more insistent. It sounded like the whistling wind, like the croaking of frogs and cicadas on a midsummer night, like the shriek of the harpies of legend.
But Ian knew it was none of those things.
He knew what it was. This was the Stranger's whisper. The call of death.
He couldn't feel his limbs. He couldn't muster an ounce of strength. He closed his eyes in terror, unable to face the end.
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