Vol had no reply to that. Even if he was willing to tell the truth there, he could not accurately explain it. He merely grunted in response. The red-haired man's expression tightened at his refusal to answer, but his smile didn't fade.
"Well, that's fair enough, I suppose. Can't arrest a man for living, despite it being mighty odd. Though mayhaps I'd want to get you tested by a priest – just in case, you know? With a slaughter like that, wouldn't be strange for a couple of demons to be hanging around, would it?"
Again Vol grunted, as he shifted his weight. He was hungry, he realized. The daylight was beginning to grow properly in strength overhead now. There was more than enough of it for him to move through the forest. These men were wasting that precious time.
"Now, we would let you go on your merry way, based on that, we would… Only, amongst yer tracks, there was something that didn't quite add up. A body, fresher than the rest. Looked robbed, from the state of his clothes. Crushed skull, that's an axe wound – Oliver's men don't use axes. Well, those are the less obvious things, the type of things you have to use a brain on. A warm body is a good bit more obvious, and fresh blood. Must have been dead from less than an hour or two by the time we got to him, and well, he just so happened to align with your tracks. Wondered if you saw anything," the man said. He wasn't smiling any longer. His hand was on the hilt of his sword at his waist, a clear threat there.
"I saw nothing," Vol said.
"Nothing but what you wanted to steal from him, ain't that right?" The red-haired man asked. "He was a good honest merchant, you know. Friendly fella. Couldn't help but getting to know him, when he was so free speaking, especially when the drink was in him. Ya killed him, didn't you? For what? A few furs?"
!! SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT!
EMERGENCY QUESTION ISSUED!
SLAY THE BLUE EARL'S LAWMEN:
0/4 SLAIN
REWARDS:
+3 STRENGTH
+3 STAMINA
+3 AGILITY
+3 WEAPONS SKILL
The air was immensely threatening. Vol saw the bloodlust in each of their eyes. They'd finally made their intentions perfectly clear. A man at the back freed his sword from his scabbard, but he did not move quite yet. He was waiting for the red-haired man – their leader – to give the order.
"We're Yarmdon," Vol growled, pleased to finally be able to speak plainly. "The weak will be trampled by the strong, just like Oliver trampled those in Bolrif."
The red-haired man flashed him a look of disgust. "Maybe if you were a raider, a warrior, I could bring myself to agree. But the country needs order – it needs laws. And what can a cowardly attack on an unarmed man say about strength?"
"Cowardly?" Vol asked, pulling his axe out of his belt. He hated the sound of that word. "Where were you in the battle, gingerbeard? You don't know nearly as much as you think you do."
"And you know even less, boy," the man said. His allies drew their weapons fully now, all of them, they stepped up to join their leading man, as he shook his head. "It's funny – I can sense the strength off ya, just a little. You're younger than you look, I'd wager. But this is the end of the road for ya. You've made too grave a mistake, and done it in too obvious a manner. In the name of Earl Karf, I sentence you to death."
At his ceremonious way of giving his sentencing, Vol twisted his lips in disgust. It was too much like them – too much like the Stormfront, and the pretentious manner of their knights. He'd listened to his brother Jok talk about them, and their hypocrisy, and he shared agreement.
To copy them was to abandon what made the Yarmdon strong in the first place. Vol felt no reservations, as he tightened his grip on the axe, and his heart drummed against his ribcage. There were four of them, and they were all well equipped, well armoured. Nothing but a solid hit would crunch through their chainmail – and if he was too slow, they would comfortably surround him.
He'd wanted to test his axe for months, years, even. He'd gotten his chance a few days ago in the battle, and despite the untimely death that followed it, the thrill that awoke in him told him that he still had not had his fill of it.
Four opponents, four experienced and scarred men. It was a worthy challenge. Just as worthy as the rewards that the system offered in compensation.
The red-haired man, their leader, made the first move. With narrowed eyes, he lunged in with his sword, thrusting it at Vol's midsection. He scrambled to block it. He was not so good defensively.
His clumsy movement gave the other three the time they needed to take a step forward, and soon another one of the lawmen was making full use of the length of his sword, and aiming another thrust at him. This one Vol struggled to block, and it slid across his stomach, ruining the new coat that he'd been given, and drawing blood.
!! SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT!
YARMDON THRILL ACTIVATED – PHYSICAL PAIN IS REDUCED BY 75%. SENSES ARE HEIGHTENED.
Following the momentum of the previous two strikes, those that had backed him up, the third and fourth men came in with their axes, attacking him from the side, as the lawmen fell into a natural encirclement. One swung his axe from overhead, aiming for Vol's shoulder, the other swung his axe in a side swipe, aiming to bury it into his oblique.
Vol grunted. Neither of these were strikes that he could take. Not alone, in the wilderness, with no one to support him. Any wound that he received would be dangerous. But a technical battle – of the sort that these men were forcing him into – was not something that favoured him. It was his strength, above all else, that gave Vol the advantage.
With a roar, Vol bet on it. He threw himself clumsily right on top of the axe coming from the side, at the very beginning arc of the man's swing. The sharp weapon cut into the furs of his coat, but there was not enough force behind the strike yet to draw a mark upon the skin.