The cloaked strangers sigh had not even ended when the men rushed at him.
After seeing just how easy two of their fellow men had been taken down, the men decided not to hesitate as they came at the stranger. The cloaked stranger dashed to the right grabbing the man mid slash and pushing him out to the others to take the brunt of their attack.
A scream soon followed as the men were unable to stop their attack in time, the blood from their friend spilling out on to their coarse clothes as well as their faces. Stunned by their own actions, the stranger was able to move in on them with a knife he had brought out form beneath his cloak.
With his knife at hand he proceeded to cleave through them in but a few seconds before rushing out to the last two in a swift and precise manner that revealed his experience in the subject. Locke's anger and brazen attitude vanished with his long face growing even longer as his jaw dropped. His eyes shifted amongst the bodies of his men that now littered the blood stained wooden floors, before focusing on the knife in the strangers hands which now dripped blood on to the floor.
The chubby inn owner as well as the lanky swindler both came to an agreement remaining still and trying their best not to draw attention to themselves.
Locke who had his gaze focused on the stranger was quick to notice his approach, *klang* there was a heavy thud as followed by the sound of metal kissing the the wooden planks of the floor board as Locks dropped his axe. As the stranger glew close he finally managed to catch a glimpse of what was under the cloak, and the sight caused a growing wet patch to form on his greyish brown trousers.
"A Gladius" Locke muttered in disbelief as well as utter fear.
He had heard the stories, but he had never thought the first time he laid eyes on one would be the day he died. He began to mutter incomprehensibly as he slowly backed away, even with his burly body he felt small before the man- no the devil before him.
The mutterings soon made way for pleas as he began to plead for his life, but all he received in response was silence. In the face of the mounting pressure Locke fell on his back side and resorted to threats, however all this led to was a knife in his throat.
With that inconvenience dealt with C-6-367 turned to the other two still in the hall and approached the inn owner. Upon seeing his movement however, the owner let out a squeal and retreated. Seeing this C-6-367 simply pulled out a few silvers and and left it for the owner before heading out back.
Arriving at the horse shed he readied his things and climbed upon his partner, "Alright Wilbur its time we left". It had been a week since he accepted the mission, and arrived at region 12. Even after arriving he had yet to find out any substantial clues, stopping at one of the guild offices in the region he had finally gained some clues which had prompted his actions.
The Scarlett church who according the the mission brief, were responsible for the kidnapping were sighted in the town of Rusvil, which was just east of the town he was currently in, C-6-367 estimated he would arrive there just as the sun rose up the next day, hopefully upon his arrival he would be able to find some clues so he could find the brat before something bad happened to the lad.
His journey out of town was uneventful, once out he avoided the main road and continued his journey through the fields before eventually making his way into the woods. This peaceful uneventful journey lasted for but a few moments until C-6-367 came to a halt and pulled out his GLSR-117 *bang* before firing a shot behind him, that left a smoking hole in a tree.
Mere seconds after the screams of a horse were heard alongside the voice of a man seemingly attempting to calm his steed. The rifle gave off a glow as C-6-367 readied another shot. "Wait, wait don't shoot, don't shoot!" the man rushed out atop his spotted grey horse.
Upon seeing the face of the lanky individual before him, C-6-367 recalled who he was. "The swindler", "names Barnabas actually" Barnabas spoke up as he tried his best to sound non-threatening as he truly did not wish to find a hole in his body. There was a moment of silence as Barnabas stared down the rifle wondering if today would be his last.
The glow faded away from the rifle as C-6-367 returned it to its spot on his back. "Thank-" "why are you following me?" C-6-367 interrupted Barnabas and began questioning him. "I wanted to say thank you. And also Locke might not be anyone of import but his elder brother is a different story, Marco is effectively the ruler of the town's underworld and even has connections with the town's guard."
"With the death of his brother, I obviously can't stay there any longer. So I thought maybe... I could tag along with you."
"Not interested", was C-6-367's immediate response as he made spurred Wilbur to continue his journey. "Wait, wait!" Barnabas called out as he rushed to keep up with C-6-367, "have I mentioned, I'm quite a good musician. Even the elves love my songs so much they get lost in them".
"You've never met an elf in your life" C-6-367 response was immediate, as he picked up on the skip in Barnabas heartbeat after his words.
"Okay so I might have overestimated my abilities, a tad bit... but I'm really good and lovely company".
"Not interested"
"How about a commission?" Barnabas words finally got C-6-367 to turn to look at him, with this he increased his pace so he was riding side by side with the Gladius. "I'm already on a mission. I advise you head to the city and leave a task with the guild office, you would be assigned a suitable Gladius".
"Come on please, I swear it won't interfere with your task. Just escort and protect me to the next town. You know I have the silver". Barnabas continued to plead his case to C-6-367 who finally relented, "Your contract is until the town of Rusvil."
"Great" Barnabas' face gained a bright smile as he run his hand through his brown hair.
"I expect payment upon arrival" C-6-367 added in a tone that promised untold pain if Barnabas decided to skip on payment once they arrived at their destination.