"Nonsense, Flint. Don't you know that the right answer usually comes with a little trouble?"
Unperturbed, Armand unsheathed his own sword, an elegant longsword with ancient rune carving running down its blade, which shimmered in a mysterious light blue glow. Even Niko could not help but glance at it, mesmerised by its strange appearance.
The six men did not wait any longer and started their coordinated attack. However, as previously, none of their swords reached the two cloaked men as they were bounced back by an invisible shield.
"Damn!" The men cursed as they were forced to absorb the impact or let go of their weapons. Weaving among them during this critical gap, Armand efficiently disarmed the rest of the attackers and incapacitated them with a quick pommel or backhand strikes. In no time, the six men were rolling around in pain or even passed out on the floor from the hit. Flint studied the situation with an indifferent gaze, as if it was a normal occurrence.
Until that point, the children had been watching in quiet, tense atmosphere. When they saw the adults had been defeated, their faces quickly turned to fear and uncertainty. The younger ones started to sob while the older ones gathered them and moved closer to the wall.
Realising that he had scared the children, Armand immediately sheathed his sword and raised his hands in what he hoped was a peace gesture. He glanced at Niko, who seemed to get his message.
Niko cleared his throat. "Um.. these two brothers are here to meet Anya."
A silence fell on the children for a while. Then an older boy, no more than 15 years of age, cautiously stepped forward, anger on his face. "Niko, why did you bring them here? Are you out of your mind?"
Niko shrunk. "I-I'm sorry, Darryl. They said they would take me to the Magistrate! And he-he is a holy knight!" Pointing at Armand, Niko's eyes watered.
Darryl sighed and pinched his nose. He knew that sending Niko to the street was a bad idea, he was too young. However, there had been no incidents up until now as he had nimble hands, so Darryl became lax. He eyed the adult men groaning on the ground, and seeing that they were alive, looked up to study Armand and Flint.
The two men were wearing a shabby-looking cloak that seemed to have withstood all kinds of weather, but he could see that they had a healthy build. He could see a glimpse of metal plate underneath Armand's cloak, and witnessed the magical power used in the skirmish just now. Niko was likely telling the truth about the guy being a holy knight, as they were the only ones in this continent who utilised both sword and magic in a fight. Quickly calibrating his decision, he bowed his head.
"Our brothers have troubled you, sirs. Is it true what Niko said, that you are here to see Anya?"
"Yes."
"Then this way, good sirs."
Like an ocean parting in the middle, the children made way for Armand and Flint. Guided by the clever-looking older boy, they walked down the corridor at the back of the building and arrived at red-painted door half-concealed behind a curtain. Darryl lifted the curtain to reveal a rather peculiar-looking door knocker made of brass in the shape of intertwining hands. After a moment of hesitation, he knocked on the door four times.
Contrary to Armand's thought that they would be forced to wait, the door flung open immediately after the fourth knock, almost making Darryl stumbled forward. He quickly regained his balance and bowed his head towards the figure standing on the other side of the door - an extremely tall woman with muscular body wrapped in leather gear, a black-hilted sword resting on her hip. Her piercing eyes landed on the two men, her gaze indifferent as she studied them.
Armand and Flint instantly recognised that she was in a different calibre from the six men they met earlier. Apart from her less than formal attire, she carried the sword aura that all master knights possessed. This put them on guard, although she did not seem to have any intention of initiating an offensive move.
"Greetings Nimue, I-I have brought guests who are here to see Anya."
The woman called Nimue nodded, but did not speak. She briskly turned around and started walking away, almost as if expecting them to follow. Armand and Flint exchanged glances and stepped inside the other side of the door, followed by Darryl after a bit of hesitation.
The corridor was dark and completely devoid of any noise other than their footsteps. A couple of dim wall lamp powered by magic stones hung on the wall illuminated their path. The silence made Armand thought of certain kinds of magical privacy shield, but he doubted that such high-calibre magic could be found in a slum of a backwater city.
"We're here." Nimue's voice was low but melodic. Unbeknownst to them, the space had suddenly opened up to a dark-panelled room with carpeted floor and a circular window with stained glass at the end. In front of an unlit fireplace, an old woman sat on a rocking chair, her hands expertly weaved threads into a beautiful crocheted piece.
She looked up at them as they entered and smiled.
"Welcome, Holy Knight Armand and Mercenary Flint."