Vance was stunned.
He shouldn't have been. He'd been sworn to the house of Eriguar since he was a boy. In that time, he'd seen death on the battlefield, in back alley brawls, in medical tents, and even by monsters he didn't want to think about. He'd thought he'd seen it all. A naked green man appearing out of nowhere and ripping the jailer's head nearly off was something new.
When the jailer, still alive or undead or whatever it was, had ignored the lethal injuries and sank his cleaver into the green man's chest, well, Vance hadn't been surprised.
When the naked man had just kept fighting like the cleaver was a splinter, Vance knew… that man… was a monster, too.
It was all Vance could do to follow their demonstration of speed, strength, and resilience.
When Lady Eriguar grabbed his arm and whispered, "Did you hear him? We've got to do something!" his elbow had come dangerously close to his charge's nose… again.
He didn't take his eyes off the fight for even a moment.
She was being impossible… again.
Kill the undead murdering her father's peasants, despite his duty? Fine! He had felt bad watching so many die and worried it could lead to something worse.
But nope! It had been the wrong choice! A choice that had led to all his men dead and the two of them trapped with the few survivors taken prisoner.
Despite the undead asking for their parole and Vance overhearing the word 'ransom', she had wanted to escape. He had tried to ignore her, but she had been so damned insistent about it being their duty. Of course, he had tried. And he failed. Two of the big, burly farmers died in the attempt, and he was stripped of everything that might have been useful. Worse still, the undead who caught him had been so thorough with their searches that Vance was developing a rather concerning and violent itch in a place he didn't want to think about.
Then, she had refused to be separated. Well, That wasn't on him. He was ready for a vacation from his charge. Nope, that didn't happen! They both were stuck in a prison cell with her father's peasants, and all of them were dying of thirst and hunger rather than just the peasants.
Still, it was his duty, wasn't it? He just had to ask, didn't he? "What do you expect me to do?"
Sure, he wanted to protect her and fulfill his duty, but he couldn't even summon the strength to stand tall, let alone fight. He had nothing to fight with, not even cutlery. The last of his men were long dead, their sacrifice meaningless. And since he was trapped in a cell with not only his spoiled charge but also the peasants, any escape attempt would need to include them, too. She'd insist on it… to their deaths, just like she had the first and second times.
"Something. Anything."
Vance wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. He had no weapons, no armor, no magic, and was starving to death in a prison cell gods-only-knew-where with his Lord's eldest daughter, who he was supposed to… somehow… protect. He couldn't even work up enough saliva to spit at them.
And she wanted him to what?
Toss the iron bars aside? They were so thick he couldn't even get his hands around them.
Wrestle one of the monsters into submission? He doubted he could have killed either one with swords, armor, and all his men to dog pile on top of them.
He did the only thing he could think of, which had been drilled into him until it should have been second nature: he put himself between the combatants and his charge, prepared to wrestle the winner to his death. It'd just be his death struggles, but it was something… right?
Maybe, afterward, one of the gods would take pity on him and bring him back as… as a fisherman. That had to be a safe profession, right? Safe from Lady Eriguar anyway, she hated the smell of the sea.
The green man had just kept fighting despite a bleeding head wound, blackened blood drooling out his mouth, a cleaver sticking out his chest, and necrotic burns on his side.
The undead jailer no longer showed most of the damage from the green man's initial attack. Undead were notoriously hard to kill, especially those that fed off the lives of others.
Right when he thought the fight was over, the green guy got his fingers into the jailer's ribs and ripped it open like a fruit. It was yet another thing that Vance, in all his years, had never seen.
It hadn't been enough. The jailer still wasn't dead.
Then the green guy, somehow larger now, tore the jailor's head off.
There was no way anything could survive that.
When Lady Eriguar exclaimed, "Oh, gods," Vance wanted to slap her for bringing attention to them.
When the giant green monster of a man roared, Vance felt his insides quiver. He knew. This was it. This is how he was going to die.
The monster's eyes fell on him, and he couldn't do it… He couldn't look this monstrous man in the eye. This creature wasn't any more his killer than a spearhead would have been.
The monster wasn't looking at him anyway; it was looking behind him at Lady Eriguar.
Then the monster picked up the bucket of body parts and the jailer's headless body and returned to the darkness it had come from.
No one said anything, too afraid if they did, it would return.
Everyone stood frozen, feeling as if they were spared certain death.
Lady Eriguar was the first to speak. "Wa… what was that thing?"
"I don't know. Baby troll? Half-troll, maybe?"
"He just left," Lady Eriguar said, a little indignant. "Why did he just leave?"
"I don't care," Vance replied. "Thank the gods it did."
She frowned and then tilted her head. "You think he noticed he was still naked?"
"I…" Vance didn't know how to answer that. He just gaped at her, stunned.
"I mean, his hair was," she paused for emphasis, "still wet."