Side Story 02
A sword swung down at him, and Bertrand Bellier blocked it with his shield before taking a swing of his own at his opponent, who withdrew to an appropriate distance, then immediately launched a counter that Bertrand successfully deflected.
Unfortunately, the defensive maneuver opened him up to a shield bash that caught him square in the chest.
Despite his heavy armor, the blow hit like the charge of a Domehead, a creature that, as the name suggested, had an exceptionally hard skull it typically uses to ram its opponent.
At least with a Domehead, Bertrand reasoned, the shape of the head spread the force out a little.
Here, with how his opponent had slammed the shield into him, the entire momentum focused on a single point, his chest, and the blow briefly numbed his right arm.
Training kicked in anyway, and he managed to follow it with a shield strike aimed at his opponent's face, though the man evaded it.
"Hahaha, that was vicious," his opponent laughed, still circling him, helmet on.
"And you think your earlier blow wasn't?" Bertrand half scolded, half praised.
"Not quite as vicious as bashing my skull in, my lord," Anton said, pleading his case, before immediately charging. Bertrand had been expecting exactly this the moment he activated his skill, Ironbound Respite.
"That's cheating, my lord, we agreed on using no skills."
The skill healed damage in exchange for SP, and its activation created the perfect opening for an attack, one that could force a surrender. But Bertrand wasn't nearly roughed up enough to actually need the heal. He'd only triggered it to bait Anton, and it worked.
Bertrand's sword met the tall knight's incoming swing, blocked the follow-up shield bash despite his surprise, and answered with a headbutt that visibly rattled Anton, followed by a combined shield and sword strike that finally put him on the ground.
Sword to his neck, Bertrand said, "Surrender, Vice Commander. "
The man didn't voice his surrender in words. He simply dropped his sword.
"Not going to complain about how that was technically cheating today?" Bertrand asked, lowering his blade and offering a hand to the young man as he pulled off his helmet.
"You'd just argue you didn't, or claim it's a fair aspect of battle," Anton said, as several squires and healers rushed over to help him up.
He settled into a nearby chair. "But I'd suggest, in the future, when we've got an actual audience unlike today, that when we agree not to use skills or abilities, you actually don't. It'll give the guardsmen the wrong idea about their valiant and honorable lord commander.
Cheap tactics are more of a thing for your... " He hesitated.
"Go on," Bertrand said, taking a sip from his gourd.
"More of your brother’s thing."
Bertrand scoffed, not denying it, but not agreeing outright either, given his second in command had technically just slandered his younger brother.
"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that," Anton retracted, with a bow. "Lord Albert remains a member of the ducal family, one I, as second in command of the ducal guard, am sworn to protect. That was unbecoming of me. Please, puni—"
"Enough," Bertrand cut in, noticing something Anton had already spotted too. Guards were approaching, ready to report.
"I've come to report a gathering on the northern plaza, near the inner temple, Commander," the guard said, boots clicking together sharply as he saluted. "At least a hundred people so far, and still growing."
Anton's brow furrowed, all trace of apology gone. "What are they gathering for?"
"To complain about the ongoing lockdown," the guard reported, hesitating.
"That's obvious. What I'm asking is what specifically set it off."
"I... don't have that answer, Commander."
"When did this start?" Bertrand asked.
"Twenty minutes ago, my lord."
"You're with Xavier, I take it? Did he send you?"
"Yes," the guard nodded, enthusiastic to have been recognized. "Yes, indeed. He sent me to report to you and take your orders on the situation."
"What did he do before sending you?"
"Our captain believed, this close to the inner wall, it was wiser to hold back and just make sure things don't reach a breaking point. But given how fast the crowd's growing, and what that might lead to, he thinks he may need to act."
Bertrand nodded, acknowledging the wisdom of his captain's restraint, and after a silent but meaningful look exchanged with Anton, said, "Go report to your commander that I'll be there to disperse the crowd myself.
" He activated his skill, this time successfully healing the numbness Anton's blow had left in his arm.
"Until my company and I arrive, nothing that could anger the crowd further. "
"Understood!" The guard bowed and left.
"The people," Anton said, the moment the messenger was gone, "are exhausted by this lockdown."
"I know," Bertrand acknowledged. "But the people need to understand."
"That's the problem, my lord. They can't. They don't know why we're doing this. They have no idea that somewhere out there walks the person who killed the hero you’d been waiting for."
Something in his tone made Bertrand glance at his second. "Do you still hold reservations about keeping the killer's presence in the city quiet?"
"I've voiced every reservation I have on that matter, my lord. Nothing left to say," Anton answered, though Bertrand knew that wasn't quite true. The man had always been skeptical of this entire approach.
"There's a hero-killer walking our streets Anton," Bertrand declared.
It had been nearly twelve days since the incident.
One of the two hundred and fifty-six immortals, otherworldly souls who'd arrived on this plane two centuries ago, had met an exceptionally unsightly death against their own city walls.
A death like that was bound to carry consequences, especially given the faction standing behind the fallen hero.
"I never held that particular hero in especially high regard," Bertrand admitted, "given his well-documented debauchery and his rather unimpressive record over a millennium.
But he came here as our guest. He died under my protection, which is why it's my duty to see whoever's responsible is properly delivered to the authorities he answered to.
Doing so will prove to them that I, Bertrand Bellier, am the sole and rightful heir to this dukedom, and put an end to my brother's scheming. "
He knew exactly what Albert would prefer, the hero's absurd death left unsolved, the killer allowed to slip away.
Bertrand had no intention of letting that happen.
He wouldn't let his brother's cunning win out like that, not even if it meant temporarily angering the people, or facing down another hero.
"Are we even certain this is the work of another hero?" Anton asked, voicing yet another reservation, as they arrived at the plaza near the inner wall, which in truth wasn't really a wall so much as a threshold marking where the noble district began.
"A hero killing another hero wouldn't exactly be a surprise. History's full of it. Over half the two hundred and fifty-six died at each other's hands at some point. That's slowed down over time, but not to a point where it happening from time to time would be a shock."
Given that most heroes belonged to rival, often outright hostile factions, there was no shortage of reasons for them to go after one another. "The only real question is why kill this particular one."
Bertrand suspected Albert had a hand in the hero's death, but he also suspected, and had been told, there was something more personal at play, something unknown.
Because for all his flaws, this particular hero had spent most of his long life staying largely irrelevant, in the sense that Bertrand had never heard of him carrying the kind of bloody legacy most notable heroes did.
No genocides. No wars led. No monster breeding programs that wiped species off the map.
All that hero had ever really been known for was his love of women, his long list of bastard children, his fondness for drink, and a reputation for flying fast, which was probably also why he'd built a career jumping from one faction to another, most of whom just finding it easier just to cut ties with the man entirely than keep him.
So Bertrand genuinely couldn't picture why another hero would want him dead.
Nothing about him fit the usual reasons heroes killed each other.
He must have done something unforgivable to someone specific, something Bertrand simply couldn't place yet, which was why he made a mental note to ask the source most of his intelligence came from.
If anyone could work out a motive for this murder, it would be them.
Bertrand's company had just finished coordinating with the captain already on site and was beginning to disperse the gathering when another messenger reached him.
A ducal courier again, though not one under his own command this time, one attached to the ducal palace itself, which was where the letter had come from.
It informed him of his father's death. The fourteenth ruler of the dukedom of Eudeussac was gone.