Chapter 17: It's you...
Inside, a group of suspicious-looking men surrounded a girl in an alley. She quivered nervously as she tried to fight back against the strong grip of one of them. Her head shook rapidly as she tried to pull away but it only angered them. She screamed again as another one grabbed her other arm. As soon as the reality of the situation sunk in, Rikkard clasped his hand on his sword and took a single step around the corner.
Yet, before Rikkard could do anything, someone rushed out past him and struck the tallest of the thugs in the head. Cans and bottles cracked as the thug collided with a pile of trash. Confused by the sudden attack, the other thugs stared at their fallen friend. Slowly, they looked at their assailant.
The attacker was a young man. He wore a red-black military uniform, the colors of the royal army. A large rapier hung at his side, hidden within a black sheathe that hung from closeby. Small hints of light reflected off the silver helmet he wore, like a shining beacon of hope for the girl. He tugged at his white gloves as the remaining hoodlums turned in his direction.
"Hey! What the hell is your problem?" One of the bandits angrily shouted. Tucking their filthy hands in their pant pockets, they casually strolled up to the mysterious soldier.
However, once they were face to face, the crimson guard suddenly struck the criminal in the face. A yellow tooth erupted out of the pits of the man's mouth and rattled against the wall as they collapsed unconscious. Now the muggers were on high alert. One by one, each of them glanced at each other. Altogether, they rushed the guard, hoping that their numbers would be enough to take care of one loner.
It wasn't.
When the skinny, leading thug got close enough and wildly swung, the guard caught the man's arm with his right hand. Then, while still firmly holding the thug, the young man swiftly spun on his heels and with his other arm, elbowed the thug across his sweaty face.
"-UGH!" the dazed thug cried out as his head jerked back. His attacker clasped the hoodlum's dirty shirt and effortlessly tossed him at his impending allies.
Surprised by the sudden flying man, the rest of the approaching enemies loudly shouted as they slid to a staggering halt. Out of pure desperation, all of them hastily leaped out of the way in clamorous flight. One of the further goons leaped a moment too late and was abruptly hit with the soaring thug, causing them both to viscously scrap against the gravel floor into a far stone wall with a reverberant crunch.
A pair of larger ruffians quickly rushed the guard, directing a rapid flurry of punches and kicks at their enemy, who gracefully swerved and dodged them all. Only when they steadily cornered him into a wall, did he finally go on the offensive. Ducking one last right hook, the young assailant whirled around, momentarily placing his foot on the concrete wall before forcefully hurling it forward. Blood erupted everywhere as his metal heel violently connected with a left ear. Unrelenting, it continued to speedily progress toward the next thug's cheek in a gruesome display of collision.
Unsuspected, as the 2 huge men crumbled to the ground, another of the thugs managed to stealthily flank the distracted guard. Clinging low to the ground, they silently dashed forward and from the depths of his mangled pockets, the assassin pulled out a dirty, rusted knife. What little ray of orange light shone into the dark alley glinted off the filthy blade as it attacked with the speed of a venomous snake.
The girl loudly gasped, her eyes drawn towards the striking bandit's weapon. Nevertheless, it was enough of a warning for her courageous protector. Almost like they had been pushed from behind, the soldier toppled to the floor. The arc of the knife only managed to slice air as it passed through.
White gloved hands slammed into the grit as the guard quickly caught himself. With the thug now unguarded, the man in red twirled from his position below and threw a sturdy kick at the thug's exposed neck.
"-urk," the assassin gurgled out before his eyes rolled into the back of his skull and his comatose body yielded to gravity.
As the victor of battle leisurely rose to his feet, Rikkard watched the man in awe. This guy was skilled! Even after all that just happened, he didn't have a scratch on him! What's more impressive was the fact that, even though he had a sword, he didn't use it once. There was no need. He overwhelmed them with just non-lethal force.
His hand squeezed around the black leather grip of his sword. If he had to fight this person, would he be able to defeat them?
Boots sliding across pebbles drew the attention of everyone in the alley. Much to Rikkard and everyone else's surprise, one last bandit was still left standing.
Although, to say he was standing was an overstatement. His butt remained heavily glued to the ground as his body trembled like an exposed bear in the middle of a storm. With shaky eyes, he warily inspected the rest of his allies, hoping for some kind of response. Their responses varied between complete silence and subtle moans of pain. But, one way or another, they all said the same thing: This guy was the only one left.
Grudgingly, his eyes finally landed on the dangerous adversary that he needed to defeat. And for a moment, he almost looked ready to give it a shot. Of course, what little courage he had gathered went up in smoke as the soldier started his slow, menacing approach.
"Screw this!" The cowardly man shouted as he scrambled across the ground and hightailed it towards the exit. The very same exit where Rikkard was currently peeking from.
Rikkard quickly stepped around the corner and outstretched his arm. The fleeing bandit, with his eyes locked over his shoulder, wasn't aware of the new person until they collided with their arm. Their initial momentum carried over as they crashed into the floor, the back of their head bouncing hard against the cobblestone road.
The young guard removed his silver helmet, revealing locks of wavy blond hair shaved at the sides. Sweat dripped down his light fair skin, down his small nose, and into his buttoned collar. His light blue, dutiful eyes were trained on Rikkard's face as his soft pink lips shaped into a surprised O.
The cries and moans of the fallen bandits faded into the background as the 2 soldiers stared at each other. A thousand words were spoken but not a single one left their lips. The blond man's eyebrow's farrowed down in disbelief, stretching the small scar that Rikkard had given to him years prior.
"Rikkard?" The blond man softly murmured, speaking for the first time since his flashy arrival.
Rikkard eyes stung as tears threatened to spill out. Wiping his eyes, he finally found the one word… name that he hasn't spoken in years.
"Arthur?"
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
WordWarden0
WordWarden0 To whoever is reading this, I decided throw the last little bit of old writing into the wild. It might not be the best, but eh.
Stay tuned for my next novel:
Dark Executioner: New Moon
Happy readings!
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