Drunk? Maybe…
Kevin didn't have the time to waste.
Without a choice, he maneuvered behind the woman and swept her by the waist. He squeezed her lower abdomen, hard. Unconcerned, he took her fair hand and led two of her fingers down her throat, manually urging a gag reflex.
Drunk as she was, Jean was nonetheless a seasoned veteran of combat; a lieutenant.
Instinctively she fought back with an elbow to Kevin's chest, and a heel on the bridge of his foot, among other things.
Their bodies swayed from side to side in the military tent, stumbling on chairs and papers.
"Get off me, brat!"
She would often yell out.
"You're drunk! Gods!"
He would retort, frustrated.
The two grappled and wrestled; no sharp items involved.
It wasn't that Jean hadn't entertained piercing Kevin with a sword; she didn't have one on her.
Courtesy of Kevin's efforts to kite the woman away from life-threatening dangers scattered about in the tent.
Thud!
The pair tripped over and Jean instinctively slammed the young man down, hurrying to mount his lap with both hands clamping his neck.
"You brat—" Jean's face went from pale to green, something was about to come out.
"Oh no!" Kevin was horrified, but he was pinned down by her mature body. Helpless, he covered his face.
Jean bent her waist, face huddled in Kevin's chest as the liquid that tossed and turned in her stomach during the past activities flooded out, soaking the young man's black vest.
"I would much rather be stained in blood instead…" mumbled Kevin despondently, disgust urging him to vomit as well.
A few minutes later.
"Sorry," exhaled Jean as she lay flat on the ground, a bit of distance between herself and Kevin. "Thanks, too."
Kevin sat to the side with a bitter smile. A pouch of water in hand, he soaked his chest with it.
"Are you sober now?"
"Enough to tell you this; don't ever try to hug me again."
"I didn't have a choice— look at you."
"How about you give me a glass of water next time? You know, that's the sensible thing to do."
"This is my first encounter with something like this, as inexperienced as I am."
"Don't use your age as an excuse on me, especially when you have the capabilities to sneak into the enemy barracks, assassinate sixteen of their officers, and make it back in one night."
"Don't compare taking lives to something as dreadful and complicated as tending to women, especially strong women."
"What a little runt," grunted Jean, about to retort viciously. Then, loud alarm bells and flares lit up the sky of the camp as hurried footsteps with clanking metals rocked her senses.
"I told you they're coming!"
Kevin tossed the water pouch over and flipped to his feet, fixing whatever could be fixed of his clothing with a bit of a frown on his face.
"What's the rush for?" Jean rolled her eyes, chugging down the water, unconcerned about whether or not Kevin had drunk earlier. "You can wear some of my spare clothes. Vests, jackets, shirts; I've got it all over there."
Kevin followed the direction in which her fair hand pointed, a bitter smile on his face. "I'm not impatient about those people," said Kevin, "I'm more worried about…"
Bang!
The ground shook as loud explosions erupted from the rear of the camp, deafening the alarmed cries of the military personnel.
Jean's eyes snapped open, she was two breaths away from cursing Kevin to his ancestors but he was already rushing like a fleeting breeze into the open, heading northward.
The moment Kevin blasted through the heavy curtains, a beautiful sky lit with flares and stumbling stones filled his vision.
A quick step to the right avoided him a rock to the head. Another step back avoided him yet another one.
One soldier wasn't particularly lucky as a stone bashed his head open. Quite the scene, everyone was in a panic.
"It's a sneak attack!" Kevin yelled the obvious.
"They got us cornered! Our retreat path was sealed by spies!" Kevin mixed some lies with the truth, knowing no one would care at this point.
He just happened to be spotted darting out from the command tent of their lieutenant, some people admitted to his role as a trusted aide to Lt. Jean, taking his words for more than face value.
"Where is Lt. Jean?! What do we do?!"
"Isn't obvious! We strike back! Those bastards… They're attacking us during the winter grace period!"
"Anger won't lead you anywhere! I just received word from the watchtower's sentry," another high-ranking officer stepped out. He stood out in the group of youthful, inexperienced soldiers. In fact, he stood out so much that he began to have some speculations in his mind, but he kept these doubts to himself. "They're about to lay down some steel bridges to connect the borders, taking advantage of the deep night to stealthy cross over."
He paused for a moment, eyes hard.
"What I'm about to say won't sound beautiful to your ears; none of us might make it out of here alive today—" clamor erupted, drowning this middle-aged man's words in a sea of anxiety and distress.
He shouted, slammed the walls by his side, and unsheathed his sword threateningly but it was all for naught. These people, young and inexperienced, tears in their eyes… Started running around frantically.
Woosh!
Gasp!
A throwing knife silently cut through the crowd and nestled into the throat of the quickest youngster to his feet, pinning him in place. That youngster retraced the narrow path of this thin, slender knife. A man no older than he, dressed in fine black otherwise besmirched by a stain of pungent smudge on the vest.
Why? The young soldier wanted to ask but it all translated into foam and bubbly blood. He didn't need to say a word, though. The look in his eyes said it all.
"Cowards!" Kevin yelled, a pair of throwing knives in each hand as he ignored the crowd and looked northward. "You're a disgrace to this nation. Kill yourselves lest you embarrass the lady, the kingdom— the young empress."
Kevin wasn't one for a motivational, impromptu speech. However, he understood reverse psychology quite well, and he knew how to implement it in a world that revolves around chivalry and honor best.
After he dropped these words with no substance whatsoever, with his young and handsome— borderline immature face and shorter than most stature, he took the lead in walking out of the military base with a long sword dragging on the ground by his side.
One would think the longsword was too heavy for this sixteen-year-old youngster to handle, especially judging from his frame. Nonetheless, it was this dauntless, unafraid-of-death image that haunted the conscience of these soldiers who came here to prove themselves to their fathers, forefathers, and nation.
"What was there to lose? It is just this one life," mumbled the middle-aged man, be it to himself or for the others to hear. "Our path to retreat is already blocked, are we going to let them cross the river and corner us?! Simply wait for death?!"
This man had a good point to speak of. Now, they had the time to camp at the riverside and mount a sneak attack on the soldiers as they cross over, unprepared. However, if the military formation was set, their side would be cornered.