"Argh!"
Rainer groaned, hanging by an arm from a window frame within the sandy courtyard.
He looked down and saw his spear lying eight meters below, and rebel soldiers ran across to take up defensive positions at the gate.
Suddenly, a rebel spotted him and exclaimed, gesturing to an archer. The archer looked up and reached for an arrow.
Rainer's face whitened with dread, and he inwardly lamented his situation.
*Twack!*
The archer fired an arrow that zipped through the air, straight for him. But Rainer had kicked against the wall, jerking aside and dodging the arrow that embedded itself in the wall next to his butt.
'Fuck! Don't aim for my ass, you sadist!'
Rainer dangled, panting as his arm burned from the strain. He gritted his teeth in agony.
'Hells! This couldn't get any worse!!'
He heard more yells below him and glanced down to find three more archers fumbling for arrows, eager to hit him.
Rainer's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.
'What is this? A grand tourney event for my ass!?'
He immediately scrambled for the window with his other arm. Taking a step on the arrow, he pushed himself up through the window just as he heard multiple twacks below.
Rainer rolled and fell to the floor, hearing the arrows hit the roof and feeling the dirt from their impact rain down on him.
He frantically looked around and found himself in the halls within the wall.
Just to his left was a large clay pot, next to it was a wall with a doorway leading into another section of the hallway.
Before him were two windows which ventilated the hall from the awful stench—the stench of fecal matter and death. The bodies of multiple dead archers, riddled with arrows, lay on the floor beside the windows... Yet one archer remained.
Despite having an arrow embedded in his shoulder, he strained to draw his bow at the Roman auxiliaries below.
Unfortunately, it seemed even the horns, death cries, and clang of weapons all around couldn't mask the sound of Rainer's fall behind him.
The archer glanced back just as he was about to fire an arrow, and their eyes locked.
"..."
"..."
Rainer froze, leaning against the wall as thoughts raced across his mind.
'No spear, no shield, merely a dagger! Well, shit!! I just had to fight in such an instinctive manner, did I!!!'
The archer instinctively swerved his bow toward him, and Rainer desperately reached for the pot beside him. He grabbed the round wooden lid and frantically used it as a shield.
*Twack!* *Crack!*
The arrow punched through the lid and poked his leather armor, but it was just enough to stop it.
The archer drew his blade, but Rainer hurled the wooden cover at his head.
*Crack!*
The impact rendered the archer unconscious and he slumped to the floor.
Rainer released a shaky breath, resting back against the wall. He looked at his trembling hands, flooded with adrenaline.
'This body's already reaching its limit.'
He sighed, looking away at the rough wood and red stone ceiling.
'When I have the time, I'll need to train this body for peak performance.'
He decided and looked around.
'Now how do I find that Chieftain?'
*Clack!* *Crack!*
Rainer suddenly perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, and he looked around for somewhere to hide.
He wasn't planning on facing off against any soldier in a fair fight. No not now—not as he was; tired and in pain. Rainer felt that an assassination would likely be the best method for the situation, as it seemed to be a single man approaching.
The man hadn't even appeared but by the heavy aura that went before him he was sure that it was no ordinary soldier.
In a way, that was his main ability: His perception of things. He could take the statement, 'reading into the room' to ridiculous lengths.
He could sense the energy people radiated and tell if they were being genuine or feigning a personality. He could, for the most part, accurately guess when he was being lied to or manipulated, and the profiling of individuals was a cakewalk to him; so much so that he all but needed a glance into their eyes to know the type of person they were.
He could extend this ability into battle, drink in the chaos, and ride upon its lethal waves. Such was his style.
Soon, a muscular man dressed in fine scale armor, with a bronze helmet and cheek guards, walked through the door.
He glanced toward Rainer's location with hardened steel-like eyes. But there was no one there except for the large, open pot.
Then he approached, steady but heavy steps crunching the debris under his feet until he stood just above the pot.
When he looked inside, he was met with his wavy reflection in the sweet-smelling wine that filled it.
Despite the aroma, his face contorted in disgust, and his lips curled with revulsion.
"Just like blood."
He muttered in a gravelly voice.
"The blood of my kin!"
He turned away toward the dead archers by the windows, eyes glinting with rage.
"Too much blood has been spilled, and for what?"
He pulled out a scroll from his belt.
"For this?!"
He rolled it open and spat when he saw the contents.
"The governor of the lands beyond the Golden Gate plots against his Emperor?"
He scoffed, a mix of amusement and regret crossing his features. Then he squeezed the scroll within his hairy fist, scowling.
"We should never have intercepted the Veredarii! All because we caught the governor's acursed messengers, he sent Alexios' cohort to slay us all?! Despicable!"
Face reddened with fury, he marched to the window and picked up a bow.
"I would never have leaked this information! It is beneficial to my clan! Let Rome burn in a civil war for all I care!"
He raged as his hard eyes searched for someone on the battlefield.
"At least let me take that selfish fool, Alexios down with me! He shall rue this day."
At that moment, the wine within the pot behind bubbled.