Norn gaped at the assassin in front of him and quickly turned to run. Fortunately, the assassin seemed stunned by the fireworks and didn't pay attention to Norn, instead muttering prayers incessantly.
"Assassin!"
The others finally noticed the black-clad figure. William and Patrick immediately drew their longswords and charged forward, while DeMol shielded Norn and Anna behind him.
The assassin, now realizing the situation, dropped his dagger and drew a short knife to engage the two men. He was incredibly agile, his dark, gleaming knife like a venomous snake striking with its head raised, extremely fierce.
But William and Patrick were no pushovers either. William swung his longsword in wide arcs, blocking the assassin's movements. Patrick, seizing the opportunity, parried the assassin's curved blade with his sword guard.
At that moment, Patrick slashed at the assassin's right hand, while William thrust at his chest. The assassin, now without his curved blade, was on the defensive and seemed about to be defeated.
"Thud!"
William's longsword pierced the assassin's chest without hesitation, but William saw the bloodthirsty and fanatical gleam in the assassin's eyes.
The assassin, with the sword still in his body, lunged into William's arms, raising his only intact left hand with a crossbow.
"For the Hashashin!!!"
The pitch-black crossbow bolt, driven by sheer rage, flew over the blazing fireworks, howling towards Norn.
Norn watched the assassin's dying strike, seeing it clearly but unable to move a muscle.
His widened pupils saw the shadow of the crossbow bolt growing larger.
"Ah!" Norn crouched down, covering his head with his hands, but the expected pain never came.
After a while, Norn opened his eyes to see a towering figure standing in front of him.
DeMol, still with his usual amiable smile, said, "Norn, are you okay?"
"Uh-huh," Norn responded instinctively.
"That's good!" DeMol muttered, and then his mountain-like body suddenly collapsed in front of Norn.
Norn stared blankly at DeMol, the unassuming, always smiling uncle who had been by his side, and the half of the crossbow bolt protruding from his back.
"DeMol!!" William dropped the assassin's body and rushed to DeMol's side.
"Quick! Get a doctor!" Norn, finally snapping out of it, directed everyone to lift DeMol onto a wagon and head straight for the city's infirmary.
On the jolting wagon, Norn pressed his hand against the wound, but noticed the abnormal purplish-red around it. He leaned in for a closer look and saw the black crossbow bolt emitting an unnatural sweet scent.
"The arrow is poisoned!"
Norn hastily took out his water skin, continuously washing the wound while shouting out of the wagon, "Faster!"
"Go!" The agitated whip cracked down hard on the precious warhorse, and the wheels that had begun to slow down started rolling quickly again.
"Hold on!" Feeling DeMol's weakening heartbeat, Norn kept praying.
The bearded doctor was almost dragged out of bed by William, but his good professional ethics kept him from getting angry. Instead, he first examined DeMol's injury.
After instructing the pharmacy boy to bring the medicine, the doctor had William and Patrick hold DeMol down, pulled out the crossbow bolt with pliers, applied medicine, and bandaged the wound, all in one smooth motion that left Norn in awe.
"Doctor, will he be okay?"
"Fifty-fifty," the bearded doctor said calmly after washing his hands and wiping off the blood. "Under normal circumstances, someone hit by this arrow would have died on the way here. I don't know why the poison on this arrow wasn't as strong, but now..."
"Ah! Pray to your Lord for him, boy," the doctor said, turning to instruct the pharmacy boy to brew some medicine.
The dim candlelight flickered in the wind, as if it would go out at any moment.
Norn worriedly watched DeMol, his mind constantly flashing back to the moments with this amiable uncle: quietly counting the supplies on the wagon, smilingly agreeing to his requests for ingredients, always encouragingly teaching him swordsmanship... Norn couldn't help but hold his somewhat cold right hand and silently prayed, "Lord, please bless your believer."
The night passed without a word.
The next morning, Norn opened his weary eyes and looked at the motionless DeMol, quickly checking for a pulse.
"Thank goodness, he's still breathing," Norn breathed a sigh of relief, but then worried again about when DeMol would wake up.
Or perhaps when he would leave, Norn forcefully pushed that thought out of his mind.
Anna, noticing Norn's awakening, meekly handed him a clay pot. "Have some water. You haven't had anything to drink for a long time." Norn took the cup from the well-behaved Anna and started to drink.
"Whoa," came a horse's whinny from outside. Amidst the commotion, a disheveled Otto burst in.
"Norn! Are you okay?" Otto anxiously approached, checking Norn's body.
"Uncle Otto, I'm fine, but DeMol... he saved me..."
Seeing Norn was unharmed, Otto let out a sigh of relief, but then his face tightened again: DeMol lay there, his life hanging by a thread.
Norn briefly recounted the events of the previous night. Seeing Otto's disheveled appearance, he asked in confusion what had happened.
"The Order was attacked yesterday too. Countless casualties," Otto sighed. "Fortunately, you lit up the sky yesterday, which prevented even greater losses. This morning, I heard that the estate had also been attacked, so I rushed over."
"By the way, what exactly did you do? How did you light up the entire sky?" Otto asked curiously.
"Fireworks, I saw them in a book about the Orient. They do this at their celebrations," Norn laughed it off.
"This time, we owe it all to you. The Grand Master announced that it was by the Lord's reminder that we were able to detect the infidels' attack in time," Otto said with a sigh.
"Uncle, who are these people? Why are they attacking us?"
Otto's face turned serious as he said, "They are the Hashashin, a group of infidel assassins. Though they have no honor, they are extremely dangerous. Twenty years ago, they assassinated the Count of Tripoli but were defeated by the Order. Now, they have launched a massive attack to avenge themselves."
"The Grand Master also announced that we will march out in three days to completely eradicate these infidels," Otto paused, "and I will be going with the army."
"Uncle Otto, there are still some fireworks and other things in the cellar of my estate. You should take them with you; they might come in handy on the road!" Norn quickly grabbed Otto's hand. "Uncle, you must also be careful!"
"I know," Otto smiled, responding to Norn's concerned gaze.
"Water," came a groan.
Norn quickly turned to see DeMol's hand trembling as it reached for the water cup beside him.
"That's great, Uncle DeMol, you're awake," Norn said with delight, helping DeMol up and slowly giving him water from the cup Anna handed over.
William and Patrick, hearing the commotion outside, also walked in. William exclaimed excitedly, "I knew you wouldn't go down that easily."
"Are you okay, Norn? Where are we?" DeMol asked weakly.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's so good that you're okay, Uncle DeMol," Norn said, tears welling up in his eyes as he briefly explained the situation.
Otto also stood behind Norn, concernedly saying, "DeMol, I'm relieved you're awake."
At that moment, the doctor walked in, checked on DeMol, and smiled at Norn, saying, "He's much better now. Just make sure he takes his medicine and rests."
"Thank you, doctor! We appreciate your help," Norn said, handing the doctor 10 gold nomismata.
Seeing that DeMol was out of danger, Otto smiled, gave Norn a few more words of advice, and then turned to leave.
"I'm fine! But Otto, don't lose your life out there," DeMol managed to force a smile with all his strength.
The sun once again scorched the earth, and the town returned to its hustle and bustle. Amidst the crowded streets, Otto rode alone on horseback, his face as cold and unchanging as a glacier.
"Hashashin!" Otto's eyes were filled with an unyielding murderous intent.