The mages finally realized where the true threat lay. They changed their target to Ermos, suppressing him with their streams of magic.
Mane went for his sword to help, knowing that he could use it as a barrier between them and the enemy, so that they could get close enough to end them.
But Ermos charged on ahead. He was faster even than their streams of magic. He vanished into thin air and reappeared behind them. Before they could even think to turn around, he shattered all three of their heads in but a single swing. Frost from the sword coated their bodies as they fell to the floor, the metal of their armour ringing out against the stone.
It was then that Mane realized, Ermos Windbreaker was no joke. He was no squirrel. Ermos' strength was leagues ahead of his own. That day, when they fought, Mane finally realized that Ermos had been holding back.
"Two bulls and three sheep, that's what they kind of look like, don't they?" Ermos said.
"I don't think so master," his apprentice chipped in, hardly phased, acting as though what they had just seen was the most natural thing in the world, "they're more like two rocks and three trees."
"…What in the hell are you talking about?" Mane said, unable to hold himself back. "Are you both intoxicated from an alchemist's potion? Is that why you're both so strange?"
"I don't think we're all that strange—" Pash began, before his eyes widened and his voice heightened in worry. "By the gods, your arm, Sir Mane!" He rushed over to look at it, quite obviously not faking his concern. Even Ermos wandered over to inspect it.
"That doesn't look good," Ermos said seriously, "we should rest a while and have that tended to." It was uncomfortable to see the change in them. Mane found he wasn't quite so keen on it. He snatched his arm back from Pash and brushed away their concern, "it's fine, we'll keep moving. We have no time to waste."
But even as he did that, he could not disguise the wince of pain that flashed across his face as a result of the movement. He dared to glance down at the wound. It was a sickening mess. To see that on his own body made his stomach turn. The flesh had been rendered black and corrupt from the combination of the three different magics. He felt like a poison was rushing through his blood.
"At least let me clean and bandage it," the apprentice insisted, "if the wound gets infected and you lose your arm, you won't be saving anyone, will you?"
"I suppose…" Mane admitted bleakly.
The boy dropped the massive backpack of his to the floor and began to root through it. Mane found himself admiring the strength of the lad, especially when he was so small. His arms were skinny and his body had no mass to it, yet he was still capable of lugging around such a package.
He drew a roll of fresh bandages and a flask of some liquid that Mane could only assume was alcohol.
Mane held out his arm and let the little shaven-headed lad work tend to his wound. He gritted his teeth when the alcohol was poured on and the wound began to sting fiercely, but he did not cry out, he never would.
"I didn't realize we had that," Ermos said, watching over Pash as he worked.
"I've been keeping them in stock just in case you ever get hurt," Pash explained, "but we haven't had to use them yet… feels like a little bit of a waste."
"Surely you jest?" Mane said loudly, unable to believe it. "No man can go through combat without ever receiving a wound."
"I stubbed my toe on a rock yesterday," Ermos said.
"Mhm… there's stuff like that, but never any wounds that need tending to," Pash said. Mane couldn't detect any hint of dishonesty about him, even if it sounded so ridiculous.
"Where were you schooled, Ermos?" Mane asked as Pash bandaged his arm.
"Eh? I don't know," Ermos said, seeming not to understand the question.
"Master was never tough by anyone," his apprentice answered for him, "he's spent his life training alone. Hard to believe, isn't it?"
Mane frowned hearing that, but he did not try to refute it. "Who do you serve then?"
"I don't serve anyone," Ermos said.
"You don't serve anyone?" Mane repeated in shock. "What's a man of your skill doing as a masterless chevalar? You are a chevalar, aren't you?"
"I mean, kind of… Not officially," Ermos said.
Mane could not hold back the deep sigh that was sitting in his lungs. "You're surely jesting… Are you telling me you were born a peasant? Why have I not heard of your name until now?"
"Master is a rare treasure that the world has yet to discover," Pash said, "even though he's really strong, no one really knows about him. It's a shame really."
Mane could only agree. It made his head spin to think that the man to best him would be a peasant. It seemed wrong, somehow, as though the gods were playing a joke. How many more were there like him who were yet to be discovered? "A waste. There are powerful men that would offer rivers of gold for a man of your skill."