"I am Sir Mane Rockwind! And it is to your utmost misfortune that you happened to plan these antics on the day of my return. I have spent this past month hunting down a dragon fledgeling, and it is by my sword that I slew it," he unbuckled his massive slab of a blade from his back and held it with both hands right in front of him, "how do you like that, stranger? How does it feel to look upon a dragonslayer?"
Ermos looked at him blankly. Somehow, after the man said his name, Ermos felt like he knew him even less. He didn't think he'd heard of a Rockwind at any point in his life. However, that usually wasn't the case for Pash. Just by the sigil on a soldier's banner, he'd be able to tell what clan they served, or their name, if they were a particularly famous chevalar. He looked to his apprentice for assistance.
"He's a titled chevalar," Pash whispered to him, though he whispered loud enough so that even Mane could hear them, so it was rather pointless, "the Earl titled him a few years back when he led a campaign on witches. He's rumoured never to have lost a duel. And, with his killing of a dragon fledgeling, he's cemented himself as one of the greatest warriors in history. Even a whole army would struggle to accomplish such a feat. He might be a good match for you, master."
"I don't know…" Ermos said, unsure. Looking at the man, he didn't seem to be that strong. Pash had tried for two years to find him a worthy opponent, but at the end of each encounter, he always left disappointed. "Isn't a fledgeling a baby? Is it really that impressive to have killed a baby dragon? A baby of anything is pretty weak."
"How dare you!" Mane growled. "To question me when you stand there nameless and weak, with nothing but a glorified monster as the sign of your power – pathetic! Do you claim to be a chevalar, or are you just a man with a blade?"
"A fledgeling kill is still rather impressive master, no one else could have done it, aside from yourself, of course. It was a big problem in the region, I'm surprised you hadn't heard about it. Thousands of villagers were killed in the course of just a couple of weeks," Pash told him, "everyone was panicked about it. There was even talk that it might come and attack Redrun directly."
"You're a good lad," Ermos told him, patting his shoulder, "you're the reason I don't have the pay for newspapers anymore."
"Happy to help…" Pash said a little quieter, though he didn't sound that happy.
"Well, Sir Mang Rockwinner, good job on killing a baby and stuff, but me and my apprentice are done here. We'll be off, if you don't mind," Ermos said, flexing his fingers, eyeing up his hound, considering how much effort he'd have to put in to make it atop his back in but a single jump.
Mane's eyebrow twitched at the insult. "Mane… Rockwind," he corrected through gritted teeth, "if you attempt to move even an inch, you will have marked yourself as my enemy and we will be firing upon you without mercy."
"Okay," Ermos agreed, before striding towards his hound anyway.
"FIRE!" Mane barked in anger. Ermos heard the twang of loosed bowstrings as a swarm of arrows took flight into the air. At that point in Ermos' martial career, they were not much more than the stings of a bee, but for his apprentice Pash, they posed a very deadly threat. Ermos drew his sword with a swiftness and stepped in front a bewildered Pash, striking down all the arrows that came his way.
The arrows fell to the floor at their feet, all sliced cleanly in two. They had attempted to fire upon the boulder hound as well, but that had done nothing except anger it. The dog's fur was so thick that not a single one of the many arrows managed to pierce through it and they all clattered uselessly to the ground.
"Done?" Ermos asked. Behind those eager guardsmen, a crowd of spectators had gathered atop the city walls, all of them eager to see the slaying of a monster, and the might of Sir Mane in action.
In all of his casualness, Ermos had forgotten one very important wild card, and that was the temperament of his hound. As he had been about to leap up onto its back, he heard a low rumble, dark and terrible, coming from the hound's throat. It raised its hackles as it bared its teeth at the Redrun guards that had fired upon it.
Ermos didn't speak the language of growls and he likely never would, but he got the sense that those men were being cursed at.
It was more than just a growl, it seemed, for some of those guardsmen began to quiver, as though they had been put under a spell that induced an acute fear. Even Pash's knees began to tremble.
The hound stalked its way forward, keen to hunt its petrified prey and put a few overconfident humans in their place. The guards were powerless to resist. They fumbled with the swords at their hips, and some loosed a few more arrows, but all those strikes were ineffectual, the hound brushed them off as though it was completely invulnerable to damage.
And then, with a massive paw, it swatted ten of them into the air, higher than any man would want to reasonably go.
Gravity brought them all back down again with a sickening crunch, spurts of blood, and a few screams. Ermos did feel a little sorry for them being brought so low, but such was the result of standing toe to toe with a monster.