Kimal declares his surrender, and with it comes the mixture of hopeful and fearful gazes of the soldiers and servants. Is this really the right move?
For all they know, their fate might already be decided, and waving the white flag might just result in futility. But who are they to decide this on their own? They are only humans, and so must be the enemies. Whatever their objectives are, they would prefer to do this the easier way, right?
So they must accept their noble lord's surrender and end things in a far simpler matter.
Kimal's lieutenant crawls on his four limbs as he comes to a display set of armor of crude iron. It wields a polearm with no particular features. His fear of the overwhelming arrows etches itself into his mind. He doesn't dare raise his head and peek from the manor's entrance lest he earns an arrow to his face. He brings the polearm to his liege.
The truth of the matter is Kimal doesn't want to surrender. Doing so will be putting his own life in his foe's hands. But after assessing their situation, he comes to realize this is the only way out for him, and his people.
Kimal doesn't know what is happening beyond his manor. What of his soldiers in the barracks? What of his citizens? Are they all just silently sleeping in their place of rest while the mysterious marksmen are harassing them like this, or is there something else? It looks like his fear is just getting more and more apparent as his suspicion becomes reality.
Just outside the manor, burning bright orange rises up to the atmosphere. Coming with it is dark thick smoke. It is a night raid that truly targets his estate. Kimal grinds his teeth. Do these people don't fear the King?
Though the King is young, he has the most power among his preceding Kings making the aristocratic faction more careful than ever.
Kimal grabs the white satin and uses it as a white flag. He ties it to the pole and was about to go out and wave the white flag. Before he did it though, his lieutenant stops him and volunteers himself to do it.
"I cannot have my lord be shamed like this. Let me wave the white flag."
Kimal gives up the white flag to his lieutenant.
Lieutenant Imor is his close friend. When he was studying to become a scholar in the Beyronald Noble Academy, Imor is a squire who apprentices himself to a famous wandering knight. The two's meeting was funny and even becomes an anecdote that the King tends to use to describe fate.
At some ridiculous twist of fate, the two friends are now a lord and knight. If the two never meet, Kimal would be insisting he continues his study to become a scholar to offer his services to some other lord, and Imor would follow his teacher who is a wandering knight and would inevitably turn him into a wandering knight himself.
Imor raises the white flag and pokes it at the manor's entrance. He waves it three times, and another three times every other second. "We surrender," The white flag is basically begging.
Suddenly, an arrow finds its mark on Imor's skull embedding itself just right by his earlobes.
The arrow penetrates the flimsy walls and strikes at Imor's head with perfect accuracy. Kimal freezes at the sight of this. The other soldiers and servant sees this, panic, and retreat from the walls, finding themselves cowering by the stairs, tables, and items of furniture.
"Ha ha ha ha," A self-deprecating laughter echoes from Kimal. "They have no plans of taking us alive…" His blood is cold, and his eyes are red with anger. The offenders are arrogant! They do not know of noble prestige and don't respect noble etiquette.
"I offered you my surrender yet you reject my white flag?" Kimal flexes his spear and calls to his soldiers. "We will break through! We will find another way out!"
His charisma and confidence touch his people, and with these simple words, he gathers the momentum of his people.
They try the windows upstairs and using bed sheets, they make an improvised rope. A steel bolt finds its mark on a servant's heart. They then try the windows downstairs and near the garden, they hope of using the plants as cover, yet a rain of steel bolts still finds its mark and kills several of his soldiers, and servants.
It is like the enemy has eyes everywhere, and Kimal is feeling cornered bit by bit. At this point, he can only pray that his family manages to safely get past the escape route.
"Follow me." With a somber voice, he decides to risk it all and try their way to the escape passage he dedicates to his family. Arriving by the secret pathways on a ladder coming to the underground, Kimal sees flames instead of the familiar dirt path.
"It cannot be," He is on the verge of breaking down. The flames are still far from the backdoor, yet there are flames here. "Someone has infiltrated us…" Kimal warily looks at his people. He is getting paranoid, and his fear of his family's fate just contributes to the terror.
"No, that cannot be… I know all of these people. If there is a spy, it is one that infiltrated the manor while we are all asleep. They must've expertly avoided the sentries... This is the work of professionals... Not to mention being responsible for making the fire…" He murmurs to himself. There are still servants trying to kill the fire by the backdoor.
Kimal looks at what is left of his Douse Potion. "Listen, my people! We shall make our final struggle! We shall divide our forces into two…" A plan comes forming in his mind.
He divides his forces into soldiers and civilians. He throws all of what is left of his Douse Potion into a bathtub full of water. He had blankets soaked on them. The plan is simple. The servants will prioritize escape to the burning escape passageway using the blankets as cover.
The effects of the Douse Potion are miraculous and have many applications thus the expensive price tag that comes with it. It was his King's gift to him on his last birthday. It is a treasure with sentiments and practical use.
While the servants are escaping, Kimal and the soldiers will breakthrough through the garden and make a run for it. He has his soldiers remove their cumbersome armor, and for them to focus on running.
A couple of soldiers carry hammers on their persons. With the two of them, they start bashing the windows, and the walls that come with it. They create a path for them to run, and with this comes their final struggle.
"At my command," Kimal readies his nerves, and then he shouts at the top of his lungs. "RUN!"
The soldiers bolt in a sprint, and arrows start raining. The soldiers desperately zigzag but it is futile as the arrows seem to always find their mark. They abandon any maneuver and decide to just run straight. However, the enemies seem to realize this and switch on regular bows which prove to be deadlier in their situation.
It is useless to use shrubs and plants as cover.
The soldiers fall one by one until there was only the last one of them. He looks around, and he didn't see his liege. He cries and sobs like a child at his miserable fate. He didn't even properly see the faces of the attackers until an arrow embeds itself in his lungs.
It was torture. The enemy didn't even bother to send him away peacefully with an arrow to the head or the heart, but just has to puncture his lungs. The soldier continues crying as his vision blurs away. The last thing he sees… is long ears.
Kimal finds himself struggling with an enemy. At the last second, after he shouts run, someone suddenly ambushes him. If not for his own experience in combat, he wouldn't see it coming. Using his spear to defend the slithering sword strike, he barely manages to avoid the confrontation, but the attacker was aggressive.
Flying daggers make their mark on his vital points. Twirling his spear, he blocks all of them at once. Finally, his gaze lands on his attacker with a short sword in her hand. Dark hair, long ears, and dark eyes… It was a half-elf woman.
And there is only one half-elf that Kimal knows in his territory.
"So you are this loyal to your lord, huh? This is new for a demi-human…" He sarcastically remarks. In the short period of their exchange, all of his soldiers have been annihilated. Not a single one manages to break through.
Kimal hatefully glares at the half-elf before him. Maybe if he was with them in that one final sprint, maybe some soldiers would have survived. Maybe it is his wishful thinking, but what is in the harm of trying to his very last breath?
Was that merchant behind all of this? Stray thoughts and suspicions are only there to distract him, so he throws them all to the deep corners of his mind not bothering with them a second more.
He flexes his spear pointing its sharp edges down low. He makes his stance crouching like a tiger. His eyes were no longer with fear, but only with resolute willpower to battle. His winning condition in this is to kill the half-elf before him in the shortest time possible.
Even if he burns, with enough determination, he strongly believes he can run past the burning escape passageway. "You shall be the first who will fall by my spear! Know that it is I, Kimal Jeremy, who shall kill you…"
"Wow, take it easy, champ…" The half-elf smirks. "I am only starting to get the hang of using a short sword, you know?" She brandishes her short sword and with a cold look, she announces her name. "I am Zeraya, adventurer, and loyal retainer to her lord."
Signaling the start of their duel is the cry of their steel.