金瓶梅第2部

After Barza and Bucket were dismissed, they left towards Wroe's waterfall to relax. Tycon told them they also had to use the soap, else he'd cut their rations. Tycon gathered Wroe and Dragan for a… chat. The group had arranged a circle of smooth boulders to sit on, around the previous evening's campfire.

"Mister Tarquin Wroe."

"...Yes, Boss?" Wroe was a bit distracted. He was absentmindedly staring at a thick, black rectangular card-- a gift he received as a result of his Pact.

"I'd like to respectfully inquire about what the young boy meant by an 8-armed Devilbeast... and why I shouldn't beat you with a stick for child endangerment."

Wroe shrugged. "It was fine. He's okay, isn't he?"

Tycon grabbed the black rectangle and tossed it into the forest.

"Wroe, don't be rude." Tycon chided.

"Okay, I might have deserved that," The Daeva frowned.

Dragan looked over to the grass, "I'm surprised you're so calm. That thing looked kinda expensive."

Wroe shrugged, "It returns back to my bag even if I leave it behind."

"It does *what*?" Tycon furrowed his brows,

« System, inquiry: What was that black box? »

[System response: Allagan Tomestone. Upon touch, the user can access recorded knowledge. Warning. 4th-Circle Curse detected.]

Dragan had stood up and was looking to jog towards where Tycon had thrown the thing.

"Don't touch that thing," Tycon warned.

"Uh.., oOooOkay, Boss. Is it, uh… Cursed?" He asked.

Tycon narrowed his eyes, "It's Wroe."

"Ahhh. So… How cursed?"

"It's Wroe."

Dragan obediently returned to his seat.

Tycon again addressed Wroe, "8-legged devilbeast. Bucket fought one?"

"I named him Squirtle."

Tycon crossed his arms, "Stupid name. Rename it. Summoned or incidental?"

Wroe refused to meet Tycon's eyes, "Well, Boss…"

Dragan picked his ear with a finger, "I don't think a First-Circle Summon Monster spell can summon a devilbeast."

Tycon sighed, "Well, first off, congratulations for being able to cast a ritual at Second-Circle."

"Yeah, good job," Dragan grinned.

"Thanks," The Daeva smiled.

"But from what I understand, you left a 9-year-old boy to contend with a Second-Circle summon-- a match for a half-dozen Bronze-Rankers."

"He was fine!" Wroe insisted.

Tycon placed his face in both palms in exasperation, "Didn't the former leader trust us with the kid's safety?"

Dragan and Wroe exchanged glances, before responding.

"Actually, Boss, he only entrusted you."

"Yeah, Boss. You're the only trustworthy person in the guild."

Tycon gazed into distance. The sky was a beautiful blue, the trees peaceful. The chill made him long for the indoors, by a fire-- perhaps with some warmed mulberry wine.

Snapping out of his reverie, he snapped at his companions, "Well, fine. Dragan, how did you train the boy?"

The Titanblood chuckled, "Haha... Get this. I threw him off a cliff into a waterhole until he got over his fear of swimming."

"Fear of swimming?" Tycon pursed his lips. "Did you mean to say 'fear of heights?'"

"Oh, yeah. He got rid of that, too."

Wroe tilted his head, "Boss, how did you train him?"

Dragan laughed, "Yeah, Boss. It can't have been any worse than ours."

Tycon felt insulted for a brief moment, widening his eyes, before shaking his head and smiling in confidence, "Bah, what do you two know? I had the boy's safety in mind the whole time. I taught the boy to dodge telegraphed attacks."

Dragan scratched his head, "And how did you do that?"

"I used the halberd." Tycon chuckled, "We have one. It was appropriate."

Dragan laughed. Tycon laughed to match his large friend.

Wroe laughed a little less, "So you attacked him with just the wooden part?"

Tycon scoffed, "Tss. Don't be ridiculous, Mister Wroe. That's not how you use a halberd."

"Hahaha... Yeah, hilarious," Dragan wheezed. "How's our supplies look, Boss?"

Tycon glanced back at the two horses and the small cart of supplies, "Rations are good for all of us. We're going through medical ointment quickly, but there's plenty of that-- though we're using bandages faster than I was expecting."

Dragan placed his massive head on his fist, "I suggested we wait and look for Wolfbanger. If he were here, he could have gathered some medical herbs on the side."

"Time is more important. We're here to raise the strength of Bucket and Barza, before we reach Merylsward," Tycon shook his head. "Anyroad, from what you've told me, this Wolfbanger's character isn't the best."

Dragan granted a sheepish grin, "Meh, yeah. We'd have someone who can lead us through the woods, though. And maybe tell us what's not poisonous around here."

Tycon opened his arms, palms up in a shrug, "We have supplies. It's only an issue if the forest locals decide to set up an ambush. And we haven't seen traces of other sentients anywhere."

Wroe was sitting down on a rock, intently looking at his recovered black Tomestone, "It'll probably be fine."

Dragan groaned, pretending to collapse on the floor in a heap, "Why ya gotta say that, maaaan? Nothing good ever happens when you say thaaat."

Tycon stretched his arms and yawned, before leaning over, stretching his legs, "I'll follow the two in secret tomorrow, regardless of whether you two want to come or not. Now come on. It's time for the three of *us* to get some training in."

Dragan and Wroe nodded as they prepared.

...

A young, silver-haired girl, barely over ten years of age, ran the length of the tree branch. With the movement, leaves fell from the trees, in a dazzling array of yellows and oranges, matching the girl's robes.

She willed her mana to form a brief step in the air, making a two-step jump and landing on another tree.

POK POK! POK! Three arrows zoomed past her, striking an adjacent tree trunk.

"Wh-whoa!"

"I got'cha!" Taree swung down, one hand grabbing the branch she stood on. She grabbed the back of her brother's armor at his nape and swung him forward.

The young blonde boy, barely a teenager, narrowly avoided falling off the tree branch, rolling acrobatically to his feet, "Tha-tha-thanks, Coach!"

"Keep running, Tamaki! There's an entire team after us!" Taree ran on a branch above, while her older brother leaped up, swinging himself over a stable branch.

"There'll be an entire team minus three after I'm done with 'em!" Tamaki promised.

With swift and practiced hands, the boy drew his bow and three arrows. In an instant, he identified three attackers-- three adults in dark clothing who wanted their lives.

DNK DNK DNK! Three rapid-fire plucks of the bow sent the sharpened arrows propelling towards the assassins.

Just as fast, the three scattered, the arrows striking tree trunks and the forest floor, below.

Tamaki increased his pace to catch up with his sister.

"Coach!" He yelled, "I didn't get 'em!"

Taree tried to think on the fly. She and her brother would run out of endurance soon. But they were no match in a fight against so many...

She grit her teeth in anger. That Hisato was the trash of the Ivory Judge sect. She had tried to leave the sect in secret, to seek help from the Outer World in the city of Aviard. But the information was leaked and the two of them had been chased all this way.

"Where are you going, Little Taree?" A voice rang out in the shadows, the foliage of the trees providing too much darkness, too many places to hide.

Tamaki saw something! A target! In less than a blink's time, he had shot his bow, piercing a single fallen leaf to a tree.

He had missed.

Tamaki's eyes widened as felt his neck grabbed by a hand. CRACK! The youth was slammed against a tree trunk, causing him to lose his breath. A myriad of yellow leaves fell all around them. The younger Tamaki was being choked by a considerably older dark-haired teenager. Fearlessly, Hisato was starkly different from the others-- white-robed instead of dark, and fearlessly disdaining the use of a mask.

"Yoshio, it was YOU!" Taree yelled. "I can't believe you joined forces with a piece of trash like Hisato!"

"C-c-coach!" Tamaki struggled, still in Yoshio's grip. "Who are all these names?!"

Yoshio eyed the younger boy in curiosity. It was just the distraction that Taree needed.

She ran up the tree and delivered a swift kick to dark-clothed Yoshio's side, forcing him to release her brother.

"You bitch!" He yelled.

Tamaki rubbed his throat while coughing, "Coach!"

The girl grabbed her brother's and pulled him along, "It doesn't matter who they are, Tommy! We have to run!"

Yoshio pulled himself back onto a branch, rubbing his arm in pain. "Tch. That hurts. What level have you trained your Stone Fist to?"

He turned to the group of shadowy figures, "What are you all waiting for?! After them!!"

Tamaki held his bow tightly, running the tree branches alongside his silver-haired sister, "Coach, they're gonna catch up! What do we do?!"

The girl laughed, her heart beating out of her chest in nervousness. She always laughed when she was in trouble, a trait that always got her into trouble with her seniors and the elders. She couldn't help but keep giggling, seeing her brother's pained expression. "I know a Gann lair near here. Follow me!"

"Wait, a Gann?" Tommy yelled back, "I'd need at least a *hundred* arrows to take down one of those!"

The girl cursed beneath her breath. Her options were limited and were quickly running out. If they fought, they'd get captured or killed. They couldn't get to Aviard if they couldn't lose their attackers.

And if she lost hope... No, she couldn't lose hope!

She could only hope that she could use the Gann as a distraction.