"Move," Corfid barked, pushing his way through. All the men around him stood at least a head and shoulder taller.
"What business have you here?" Corfid asked, not bothering to hide the aggression in his voice. He dared to stand but a few feet away from those strange swordsmen.
The men did not rush to answer. The man on the floor did not even bother to look at him at all. Whatever was going on inside his head must have been far more important. His knuckles were clenched unnaturally and a lone tear fell down his face. "The gods are so cruel…" he whimpered.
Corfid seethed at that. He was not used to being ignored. "Take them outside and put an end to them," he said coldly.
Corfid's men began fearlessly forward, only to be halted by the young man with a backpack. He drew his sword and cold steel glinted in the dim light.
The men looked to Corfid for guidance, neither of them willing to risk being slashed when they had no weapons to defend themselves.
"What are you fools hesitating for? Charge him, damn you! It's one man!" He said.
The man bearing the backpack was only shaking lightly, his fear was minute. He must have seen some truly terrible things to be able to remain so stoic in front of the danger presented by so many men. He spoke to his comrade instead, affording him the attention that should have been spent on battle.
"Master," he said quietly, "we still might be able to get our treasure."
It was as if he had uttered a magic spell, for the instant he spoke those words, the tremblings of his comrade stopped, he wiped away his tears and looked hopefully up at him. "…How?"
"We take it," the man said simply, "it is our duty to deal with the evil of the land. These people are definitely shady. If we deal with them, then the Duke might even reward us."
The man was on his feet a second later, his sword drawn, a confident smile on his face.
Wyndon couldn't believe their boldness. Did they really think they stood a chance against hundreds of men, even if they were unarmed? They must have been mad.
"The Duke will reward you?" Corfid scoffed. "It is the Duke you stand against! That boy up there was to come to become the 111th Duke of the Slash, had you not interrupted us. Shady you say? Shady? Is that how the common man sees it? That is why we hide our rituals from you. And with your deaths, they will remain hidden."
"Nope, I don't believe you," the swordsman said, having fully recovered from his rather short breakdown. "If that was the Duke, you wouldn't be trying to feed him to a dog. Here's what I think: you guys are short on money. You bought a dog that you couldn't really afford and now you've no money to feed it. Well, worry you not, I'll take it off your hands, I will. I'll be sure to get him to a good home."
His face was utterly serious, but his words sounded like a joke. Corfid went red in anger, thinking that he was being mocked. "Kill this man," he hissed.
"Hold yourself, Corfid," Pale Moon spoke. He was the only person in the entire room with authority enough to reign Corfid in. "I will deal with these guests of ours. Better not to throw away the lives of your men needlessly." The old priest began down the marble steps. The giant hound went with him, cracking the floor with each step he took. Wyndon was glad to see the back of it.
"…Do what you want," Corfid said, clearly unhappy. His men could not have looked more relieved, especially those in the front. They parted to allow the priest and his hound through, giving them more than enough space, frightened that they might be caught underfoot.
"You boys are rather bold," Pale Moon said in his rasping voice.
"Are you going to try some magic on us?" The same swordsman asked, holding the priest at a distance with the point of his sword.
"I might," Pale Moon said with a smile. "But before that, I have a question for you. How is that you managed your way here, without the use of the tunnel?"
"…There was a tunnel?" He sounded annoyed.
"She probably didn't know master. She didn't seem like the type to lie to us," his apprentice said.
"Was it the bridge then?" Pale Moon interrupted, his eyebrow twitched as he was ignored. His hound salivated next to him, his tongue dropping fat puddles on the floor.
"No, the bridge would have eaten us," the man said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "We had to fight it just to get this far. That's why we're definitely not going back empty-handed. You're definitely shady, so we won't be feeling bad about it."
"You fought the bridge..?" Pale Moon repeated. There was a moment of silence before he smiled a toothless smile. "I don't believe you. If you have nothing else interesting to say, then I'll finish you here." He held his palm towards them. It began to glow with a blinding blue light.
The man raised his sword as if to swing. Pale Moon flinched heavily, jumping back several feet with an agileness unbecoming of his old body.
"Hm?" The man said, scratching his head with that raised hand, a blank look on his face. He had not intended to swing at all.
The change in Pale Moon was unbelievable. Sweat had coated his forehead with a suddenness and his breathing became laboured. He cowered in a terrible fear.
"Take it," Pale Moon whimpered.
"What?" Corfid squeaked incredulously.
"I'll give the fool his dog! Better that than him ending all our lives!" Pale Moon shouted, manic with fear.
"Have you gone mad, old man?" Corfid asked in disbelief. "If you've fear, stand back. My men will take care of it. We can't allow them to live."