Except for the profusion of grossly exaggerated reports from Corinth and misidentified captives dragged in by bounty hunters eager to collect, the citizenry had not made much effort contribute to the search for the mysterious swordsman and his band. There was no doubt that a subversive element persisted even after all these years, but it was only a small part of the problem, as was the resourcefulness of the enemy and his ability to evade detection. As troublesome as those factors were, their portion was insignificant when compared to primary cause of the disappointingly fruitless search.

The greatest obstacle was the indifference of the general populace. As long as it did not have a direct and immediate impact on their daily lives, they turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to the world around them. It had eased the conquest of the kingdom, but made keeping it all the more difficult. In his frustration, Terentius was almost inclined to wish that they set their wills against the Crown, just so long as their hearts were bent on something. Their utter lack of care was maddening.

His thoughts were disrupted by the gallop of an approaching horse. It was one of his lieutenants, stopping only a few paces from him.

Terentius took a deep breath. Two months had passed since he dispatched Harald Svenson to hunt down Mark, son of Luther, and his gang. His return to Darkwall hardly matched the Captain's expectations. Just remembering it made his guts squirm. Telling it would be even worse.

A commotion at the gate brought the sparring matches and exercises to a halt. Terentius walked over to the gate to see what was wrong and saw the gatekeepers pull a Guardsman lieutenant off his horse. He quickly recognized the lieutenant as Harald Svenson, but he was supposed to be accompanied by a twelve-man detachment. Where were they?

As he got closer, he saw that Harald was not his usual confident, composed self. There was a wide-eyed look to him that was tinged with delirium and, most surprisingly, fear.

The Captain held his forehead in bafflement. "You're not making any sense!"

That same gatekeeper slapped Harald in an attempt to bring him to his senses, but in his excited state he mistook the effort for an attack and screamed curses as he reached for his sword, though his scabbard was empty. The two gatekeepers took a firm hold of him and shook the lieutenant vigorously as if to shake out his madness. It seemed to have some effect. Harald calmed a little and drew closer to his right mind.

Harald began slowly, shaking his head unsteadily as he spoke. "That mercenary... We were looking for him for so long... Several days ago in Eagle, we were searching this old estate when we ran into the Minstrel Thief, but he gave us the slip outside the city. We hunted around for several days, but nothing...

"We had heard that there was this old woman who lived in the ruins of that estate and when we were back in Eagle, we caught her. She wouldn't tell us anything, so I decided to bring her here, soften her up in the dungeon a bit... We were just passing through the gates and there he was... He demanded that we surrender the old woman or die. He'd never killed before, so I thought I'd call his bluff..."

Harald shook his head more vigorously. "I don't think so. When I fought him in Watercress, he actually blocked the Drunkard Prince's sword at his own peril to spare the lives of my men... That swordwench in Rowan, she must've been following his will back then, because she didn't hold back in Corinth. He, he didn't have the stomach for killing..." He switched from shaking his head to nodding. "I knew it... I could tell... I could feel him holding back when we fought..."

Terentius furrowed his brow.

The lieutenant twitched in annoyance. "Who cares about that now?" he snapped. "You weren't there... You didn't see it... You don't know!"

Slinging his head back, Harald stared at the sky as he continued, "I, I thought I'd call his bluff... He gave us one final warning, but I didn't believe him... I sicced four men on him. They were mounted even... No way a single swordsman on foot could hope to survive..."

Harald lowered his head so he could look directly at the Captain. His eyes bore testament to his sincerity, but they also showed his derangement. He started drift as he began talking again, a faraway voice of someone trapped between sleeping and waking.

Harald no longer sounded like a soldier reporting a botched mission. He spoke more like one of the bards of his people, passing down a legend of long-dead heroes. It was as if he had no other voice with which to tell the story.

A chill went down the Captain's spine. He knew what the gear of the Guardians looked like and there was no questioning the import of Harald Svenson's words. Although it would have been easy to succumb to the creeping fear, Terentius kept his wits about him and pushed the half-mad lieutenant for more details.

"He held his keen blade to my neck and his face was as cool and unmovable as stone when he said these words: 'Ten men died for your pride. For your crimes against my countrymen, I should cut you down here, but I have a use for you. Go to Darkwall. Tell them Mark the Guardian is coming to meet Randwulf to resolve the sins of twenty years past.' Then the Drunkard Prince lifted me up. He set me upon my barebacked horse and I was let go. I rode without pause for three days and now I'm here...

"The King is mighty and his allies powerful... With the warlock of the tower, perhaps they can best this Mark the Guardian... But woe betide any lesser man who dares to face him... Only death awaits... Only death... Death... Death..."

Harald once again sank completely into madness. The gatekeepers kept their hold in him tight lest he bring harm to himself or others.

As the gatekeepers carried the raving lieutenant away, Terentius could feel his stomach churn. The son of Luther the Guardian was in Gladius. He had uncovered the ancestral gear and become the new Guardian. Now he was coming this way with an unknown number of followers. The King and the Marauders never felt so far away.

Terentius nodded. "Make it so."

As Terentius rode back to the castle, his unease only increased. He knew he was in over his head, but no one would come to save him. Protecting the kingdom was his responsibility and the burden was on him alone. All he wanted was to hang on until the King returned, but he feared even that would prove to be beyond his ability.

At first, Jasper seemed unsure about the orders Mark had given him. His look of concern quickly transformed into his usual cocksure grin.

Mark's reply was blunt. "I'm not fighting for you. I have to confront Randwulf for my own reasons."

The thief nodded. "Oi gotcha. Guhd lahk."

Teresa made the sign of the cross. "Godspeed, everyone."

As they parted company, Jill had already run out ahead. They were outnumbered ten to one, but sometimes the crazier the scheme, the better the odds of it working out. It would either be a remarkable success or a catastrophic failure. There was little room for anything else.

The lieutenant did what he could to maintain order in the ranks, but the men were getting restless. They were used to being on the move, actively hunting down their enemies, not waiting out in the open, exposed and vulnerable to attack. Time slowed to a crawl.

The mind-numbing wait was shattered by a single whizzing arrow that landed squarely in the neck of one of the riders. As he fell to the ground gurgling his own blood, another was struck dead in the eye, letting out a screech before keeling over.

Even as he was shouting the order, another arrow pierced the mail shirt of a third man and by the time a shield wall was raised a fourth man was dead.

Of the eight crossbowmen in the detachment, seven were still alive. To them the lieutenant shouted, "Fire a volley into the woods!"

As the seven men launched their bolts into the woodline, one of them was killed by an arrow that flew into the gap in the shield wall that had allowed them to fire. The lieutenant hastily ordered his men to tighten the shield wall before any more of his precious few crossbowmen were lost.

Little did the lieutenant realize that there was only one exceptionally talented archer harassing him, much less that three other opponents were headed right for him while his attention was diverted.

Of course, the lieutenant did not see that his order to split up the attackers divided his own forces, which was exactly what they wanted. With the attention of his men shifted to the new threat, they forgot about the archer in the forest, whose arrow took down another man. Three of the mounted soldiers and three of their dismounted counterparts raised their shields to bolster the formation's defense, but that reduced their effective combat strength by six and the three swordfighters did not relent. The fierce skirmish that would later be known as the Battle of Crimson Field had now begun.

His crazed laughter echoed throughout the dank chambers of the tower and spilled out over the castle grounds, much to the discomfort of Darkwall's residents. Past the moat surrounding Darkwall, a hidden gate opened to reveal an underground tunnel. The growls of wild beasts echoed in the depths, beasts that were now free to wander outside.

The Guardsmen's effectiveness may have dropped, but it did not prompt their opponents to slow their momentum. Burying his sword in the man he had wounded earlier, Edward abandoned it and fought the Guardsmen at close range with his mace and axe. A crossbow bolt pierced the Prince's pauldron but did not touch his flesh. Batting one man aside with his mace, he brought his axe down on the head of the crossbowman who damaged his armor, cleaving through helmet and skull easily. Her quiver empty, Jill sprinted onto the battlefield to claim some used arrows, fighting off any Guardsmen she met with her hunting knife and a broken spear she took from a nearby corpse. Like Edward, Mark and Sonia were fighting in close with the Guardsmen, relying on their skill with a blade rather than their magical powers.

Mark had just dispatched the man he was fighting when he saw something in the distance, its shape obscured by the cloud of dust it raised. When it stopped and the dust finally settled, Mark could see it clearly for the first time. It was a great beast with red, pebbly skin that would stand a little taller than Edward if it chose to stand upright instead of lurching forward. It seemed just as content to walk on two feet as on four, with hands and feet that bore claws like daggers. Its head resembled a lizard with a muzzle that concealed full rows of long serrated fangs and curled horns like a ram's protruded from the sides of its skull.

It opened its mouth to release a low hiss, its thick purple tongue thrashing about in viscous saliva. Fixing its serpentine eyes on Mark, it leaned forward and stiffened its muscular tail. With a screech it charged at Mark, tearing up large clods of earth as it ran and plowing through a wounded Guardsman unfortunate enough to be caught in its path.

Edward had knocked back three men he was fighting in just enough time to see the creature charge. His whole body froze and his eyes grew wide. His hands began to shake, gripping his weapons only because his gauntlets were locked in place.

His mind was flooded with the memories of twenty years ago, memories that haunted his every waking moment no matter how hard he tried to drown them out with ale and spirits. In his mind's eye he saw the image of his father broken and bleeding, only moments from death. Beside the fallen king was a monster, narrowly defeated by his superior strength. After all the years that had passed, that very same monster was charging at Mark here and now.

The Prince was shaken out of his paralyzing fear when his attackers collided into him in a renewed assault. Human opponents, at least, were nothing to fear. Crushing the skull of one man, he was able to focus on the battle once again.

Meanwhile, Mark sidestepped the creature's blind charge, but it did not go far past him, digging its claws deep into the ground for a quick stop. Before it could turn and make a new attack, Mark rushed at it without hesitation, fully aware that even the slightest opening had to be exploited if he wanted to survive. Focusing his energy into his sword, sparks flew as he brought it crashing down on the creature, cleanly severing its tail. As the tail flopped about like a fish out of water, the beast howled in pain, leaving a trail of dark blood as it whirled around and thrust its thick skull into Mark's chest. Even with the protection of his armor, he felt the blow acutely, his ribs still weak from the damage they had suffered during his capture. He reeled from the attack, barely managing to stay on his feet.

The creature swiped with one hand, only to be blocked by Mark's shield. The other hand snaked past his defenses and clutched his arm from behind the shield, burying its claws deeply in his flesh. Not allowing the pain to affect him, Mark raised his sword and swung at its wrist. Fresh blood spewed from the separation of hand and arm and the creature cried out from the new injury. Maddened with pain but still fixed on killing its prey, it reared its head back to strike again while Mark charged his blade a second time.

Instead of butting at Mark as before, it opened its wide jaws to bite. The brief pause would ultimately prove fatal. Swinging with all his might, Mark's glowing blade sent the creature's head flying in the air. Electricity crackled though its heavy body as it landed in the grass with a dull thud, its dark blood spreading out in a wide pool.

Mark stood over the monster's corpse in triumph, his breath slow and weak. He winced in pain, but not from the injury to his ribs. Looking down, he saw the creature's hand still grasping his forearm. As Mark plucked the hand off, he heard Sonia's voice cry out just a short distance away.

Mark waved in acknowledgment to Sonia and they began to run. Once they joined Jill and Edward, a momentary glance behind them revealed the hard-riding reinforcements in the distance.

Mark stopped and faced the oncoming enemy. "There may be another way..." he replied coolly. Sonia turned and went to Mark's side. He nodded to her and looked over his shoulder. "Edward, Jill, go on ahead! We'll hold them off here."

Jill added to his protest, "I won't leave you behind, Sis!"

Jill nodded haltingly and turned to leave with Edward following behind her. Sonia looked to Mark. Although she was unafraid to face the Guardsmen and unequivocally trusted her cousin, she did not have the slightest idea what he was intending to do.

The two Elemental Knights stood silently, their eyes closed, deep in concentration. Fed by a stream of new energy, the gems all over their gear glowed in steadily increasing intensity. The sky grew dark and became fully overcast. Flashes of light in the clouds and rumbling thunder were the heralds of what was to come. Countless bolts of lightning struck from the heavens, razing the ground and shattering the advance of enemy.

Her arms crossed, Sonia stood motionless in unwavering focus as the glow from her gems enveloped her. Her eyes opened and she spread her arms wide. A high wall of flame burst from the ground in front of the Guardsmen, making pursuit impossible.

The two turned and ran as fast as their legs could carry them. They had bought themselves a little time, but they did not know how much. They had no intention of stopping to find out.

It was foolhardy to make a stab at Darkwall with only four people, but it had not been a total loss. In their victory they had gone farther than any who went before them. Though Mark had insisted that his only goals were to confront Randwulf himself and to protect his companions, he could not deny being moved by the rush of battle. Now more than ever he felt closer to the goal of overthrowing Randwulf's tyranny. He may not have come to Gladius for revolution, but the revolution had most certainly come to him.