Xesyl had picked the spot for his campfire with care, having drifted far from the main road the night before. The sword master sat there in silence in the early afternoon, his thoughts clouded and troublesome. One would naturally feel frightened when treading in unknown lands, such places renegades and skilled fighters made a living by waylaying the traveling merchants, yet Xesyl felt little discomfort as he would continue down foreign paths.<br/><br/>A black leather jerkin hugged his upper torso. The shoulders were edged with chain mail, and his leather leggings with high riding boots were adorned with mail too. All of it was richly made, and would be obvious to any looter around. His once long raven black hair had been cut, the sides shaven and the top formed into a crest.<br/><br/>The sounds of horses were heard, interrupting his thoughts, and he quickly turned on his heel to wait for whoever was coming. A small cavalry emerged into the clearing within moments. All of the riding men were heavily armored, carrying both lance and short sword. At their sides were large rounded shields. The crests upon them were unfamiliar to Xesyl.<br/><br/>“Welcome to my fire, sirs,” he said calmly.<br/><br/>An awkward silence fell.<br/><br/>“I had just finished preparing a meal. You are most welcome to try it.”<br/><br/>The man he presumed to be the captain rode forward several more paces and lifted one of his hands from his side into the air. He was broad shouldered and sat upon his heavy chestnut gelding. Turning his head, he looked back to rest of his men.<br/><br/>“There’s no need for all of you to stay. Carry out the remaining tasks. The one here shall be concluded soon enough,” he told them.<br/><br/>It wasn’t long before the columns behind the man began to turn their horses and depart for the main road. Two would stay behind, coming up along the sides of their leader.<br/><br/>“May the gods be with you,” one of them said.<br/><br/><br/>Xesyl ignored the words, knowing he would now need to think quickly. He walked back to the fire where he began to prepare the broth. The smell of it lingered in the air, a temptation that would be hard for any to resist. He peered down into the broth. He stirred it slowly, and then took a sip. The taste was bland, and he had no spices to ad. Stirring it once more, he allowed a smile to flash across his once stoic feature and looked back to his guests.<br/><br/>“I suppose it is ready.”<br/><br/>The riders edged their horses forward and dismounted. They joined him at the fire. Xesyl noticed something different about two of them. They weren’t armed with a sword, but instead only long knives which hung from their belts. Their captain drew him blade, his smile underneath his heavy armored helm clear as day.<br/><br/>Xesyl’s hand lifted, letting the digits curl around the ivory hilt of his longsword. He focused to remain calm, breathing in slowly, and anticipating an attack.<br/><br/>“My advice to you, and your followers here, would be to remount and leave now. There is no mission to be concluded here.” His hand tightened around the hilt.<br/><br/>Xesyl’s thoughts were broken as he came to recognize another smell, one all too familiar, and stronger than the soup he had prepared. It was the smell of death. The smell would now be accompanied with the sounds of the dying in the distance.<br/><br/>“Your arrogance will be the end of you. There are three of us, all skilled with the blade. And you threaten us? Have you lost your mind?”<br/><br/>The former champion of Dara simply smiled, his jade green orbs gazing forward to the leader. The last thing the man would see was Xesyl’s steel blade flashing before him, striking him in the throat. Blood sprayed from his severed jugular and he dropped to his knees. Taking several steps back, he lifted his blade in a defensive position. Without any hesitation the two remaining soldiers ran in. Xesyl leapt to meet them, their blades shimmering as they clashed together in a series of thrusts and blocks.<br/><br/>Within a matter of seconds both men were dead upon the ground- one cut from shoulder to belly, and another with both arms departed from his body. The champion showed no signs of being weary. He moved quickly to clean his blade, using a cloth that had once belonged to the dead before him. The blade was then returned to the single black scabbard.<br/><br/>He knew it wouldn’t be long until they discovered their captain wouldn’t be returning. Gathering the belongings he would not leave behind, he moved to one of the horses to saddle it. He then slid into the saddle smoothly. Xesyl took hold of the reigns, screaming out loudly in ancient tongue, freeing the other two beasts.<br/><br/>There was only one option that made sense to him now, he would keep moving forward. This would mean drawing closer to whatever was being attacked. There seemed to be no logic in going backwards now.