Król was the first to parry the sword. Grimm’s gave fell on Król, a cold stare that demanded your attention, the pale blue eyes fixing you down… Król didn’t think, he just moved, stepping to the side and bringing his sword up and around, deflecting Grimm’s lung with a deafening crack. Król took a step back waiting for the next strike but it never came, instead Grimm called his next victim and when he was satisfied with beating the rest he marched them off to lunch.

At the end of it all Król was sitting at the fountain in the middle of the village with ten bodies lying at his feet. Their limbs tangled in unnatural states, and off in the distance the screams of women ran throughout overpowering the sound of crackling wood as it burned. “You did well brother Król,” when Król looked up he was surprised to see Orlov standing above him. He had his usual grim face on him but he was covered in more blood than Król thought possible, he raised an eyebrow after looking Król over. Król raised a hand before Orlov could say anything, “The only reason I managed to do this,” Król made a sweeping gesture with his arm at the corpses, “was because you taught me.” The brothers were gathering around them attracted by the bodies that surrounded the runt of the litter. A giant of a man stepped out amongst the brothers, he was as manly as they came. His muscles took so much space they forced his veins to the surface and they looked as if they might escape his body. He was more muscle than man. Andrzej looked as if he was angry his body looked as if his temper was about to escape, it was.

“So the rat has learned a few tricks has he?” he was appealing to the brothers and was craving for the reaction that would insure there was blood. Król knew where this was headed and didn’t like it one bit. There were whispers and a few grumbles but the one word they all had in common was challenge. But before anything could be said Król drew his sword and pointed it at Andrzej, there was silence as everyone took in what the movement mean but more than that they were hypnotized by the beauty of the blade. “Where’d a runt like you get a blade like that?” he was asking the question that was going through everyone’s mind. “All you need know is that it’s going to gut you like a fish.” Król knew he had to get ahead of the momentum. There were a few chuckles but they were drowned out by the sound of our swords clashing. Andrzej struck, he chopped hard and fast with his sword. Król blocked the blow. The blow almost knocking his sword from his hand, he parried and skipped to the side looking for a way to breach Andrzej’s guard. His sword was a broad sword and had a longer reach than Król. “I’m going to tear you apart,” hissed Andrzej swinging his broad sword so close that Król could hear it whistle past. “I’m afraid I’ve got other plans” their swords clashed again. Król danced. Defended and parried and deflected, cutting nicks here and there. Andrzej backed away to gather his strength then in the same instant he charged forward with his giant sword. Król twisted in a single movement ramming the hilt of his sword into Andrzej’s nose. He had just enough time to scream, “Bastard”, as Król’s sword flashed and he drove it between his ribs and pierced his heart. In the moment of silent disbelief came the sound of blood splashing to the ground, then came the brothers cheerful “ooh”. They broke into laughter before the scramble for his belongings each man going through his pockets searching for something valuable. Król turned to the rest of the group that now stood around him. “Does anyone else have anything else to say to me?” They all stayed silent for a while until they just pointed behind him. There were ten riders headed their way, five of them had Sir Aurek’s crest on their breast plat. Sir Aurek was the baron of the land they were running wild in, he employed men like them to intimidate the farmers on his land to pay protection taxes as well as the king’s tax. When the riders finally reached the brothers the lead rider spoke, “Where is the giant Andrzej?” Król wasn’t too sure how they would react if they knew he had just killed Andrzej one of the Baron’s watchdogs. Before he could say anything one rider spotted the fresh corps and pointed in its direction. Silence. It was so deafening that even the crows were being drowned out. The lead rider smiled and his men laughed, Król eased a bit at their reactions. “So the giant was killed by a farmer, what a pathetic way to go,” now was his only chance but before Król could speak one of the brothers interrupted. “He wasn’t killed by a farmer it was the boy,” his finger covered in blood and dirt pointed at Król. The lead rider smiled and threw a small bag and as it landed in Król’s hand there was the familiar clank of coins. “Feels a bit light,” he grinned. “Instead of paying you in full the baron thought you’d like to replenish your men by giving you an additional five” his voice wavered a bit. “Tell the baron he has my thanks,” he gestured for the five men to come forward and join his ranks. “Be a good lad and tell the Baron I feel that instead of wasting my time by walking to his estate he can meet me in Aron”, Król smiled and looked at the twins. “Search their saddles and take whatever has value,” he looked at the riders and smiled, “kill anyone who looks at you funny.” The riders tensed but didn’t dare move leaving the twins to do as they please, Król looked to the lead rider. “If the good Baron asks who summons him tell him Król does and if he still doesn’t take you seriously then tell him I killed his little pet.” He made a shewing motion and the riders left at a gallop. Król looked at the twins and what they had in their hands, a fine black cloak, two gold pieces, five silver pieces and a fine dagger with gold patterns racing down the hilt. Król took the cloak, dagger and a single gold coin. He looked at the twins, “The other gold coin is yours and the silver pieces will be added to the wagers.” After a mumble of agreements and the odd grunt of disapproval they lit fires around the village before riding for Aron city.

Aron city was a tangled web of twisting streets and dead end alleys, it was filled with a vast sea of people, a forest of buildings and roads wide as rivers. It smelled like urine, sweat and coal smoke. This was the home of the wicked where if you got caught in an alley screaming would only bring more attackers rather than help. Where if you didn’t watch your pockets a hand would find its way into your belongings. It was truly a filthy place, which is why the brothers and Król would fit right in. by the time the brothers had reached the city they had lost four brothers. Who either challenged Król to a duel or got stabbed for testing his patience. By the end of it all it was safe to say they either had respect for the young man or simply feared him and his short temper. When they pulled up to the city gates they were greeted by the city watch, a group of unhappy men itching to draw their swords. “State your business filthy rats,” the watch master was a small man with a rather large belly that made Król think what would happen if he stuck a dagger through it. Król was angry at being referred to as a rat but decided to be patient. He smiled, “I was instructed to await the baron in this fine city,” the brothers laughed. The watch master was not amused and made the mistake of stepping forward and placing his hand on Król’s mount. Before he could say a word Król’s sword glinted in the afternoon sun. Smiling as he drove it into the watch masters belly, grunting, he yanked it upwards opening a vertical wound in the man’s stomach and exposing his entrails. A little disappointed he signalled for the brothers to kill the rest of the men. In shock the watchmen were slow to react and before they could shout for help the brothers were already upon them. Król moved on leaving his brothers to finish their job and enrichen themselves. Leaving his horse at the stables he made his way through the city, moving between buildings and making his way through the twisting alleys. Kowalski was hard at work forging what looked like a battle axe when he noticed Król. Setting his tools aside he made his way to meet him, “What can I do for you boy?” Irritated by being referred to as “boy” Król could think of nothing more than running the man through with his blade and forcing his body into the burning furnace hearing his dying screams. He decided otherwise. “I want light leather armour made from the leather found in the Zolnerowich lands, breast plate preferably made from brim stone steel mixed with titanium,” the blacksmith raised an eyebrow. “That’s rather pricey is your father sure he can afford it, I could suggest something cheaper that offers good protection from blades and daggers,” Król was growing impatient so he simply drew the gold coins he had acquired. “I assure you I can afford the armour,” Król stressed his words precisely so the blacksmith knew who it was for. Król walked up to the blacksmith and was pleased to note that he was a head taller than the blacksmith. They walked to the backroom where he saw a young girl sitting in the corner, “Jean be a good girl and take the young gentlemen’s measurements,” the blacksmith’s voice was stern. He turned to face Król, “I’ll have to ask you to take your shirt off.” Król removed his shirt to reveal muscles developed from swinging a sword your whole life. The girl sat in a chair in front of Król writing the measurements her father called out in a small note book, but he suddenly stopped when the he got to Król’s back. Jean growing impatient moved to have a look at what was taking her father so long. When she got to her father’s side she fell silent in the middle of her frustrated grumbles. A moment later an older lady walked in carrying a basket full of different groceries, but upon seeing Król’s back she dropped the basket allowing for all the contents to fall to the floor. There was a gasp as she pressed he hands to her mouth. Król didn’t have to think too hard at what had them in such as state and he knew what was coming his way, possibly the one thing that he hated most. Pity. Król bent down to pick up an apple that had rolled to his foot and turned to face them. “I think I’ll take chain mail as well.” They froze, the old lady opened her mouth to speak but Król jumped in, “Let’s just say I had a rough upbringing,” he gave them his best smile before taking a bit from his apple and throwing one to Orlov who was quietly watching the exchange. “Everything will be ready in four days and will cost you a three gold coins and seven silver,” having grown uncomfortable with the silence Kowalski could think of nothing better to say. His daughter gave him a flat look and before she could protest he spoke with flat tone, “The materials he’s asking for are rare not to mention the restrictions and taxes the nobles have made on top of that working with these materials requires a certain skill set.” Król looked him in the eye and pressed four gold coins in the blacksmiths hands and left before anything else could be said. Król and Orlov made their way to the tavern knowing that’s where the brothers would be after a hard days killing. “I was sure you would negotiate for a better price,” he gave Król a raised eyebrow, something Król had grown to hate. “What do you expect from me he wasn’t exactly unreasonable,” Orlov smiled and whistled for the rest of their walk. When they reached the tavern they knew the brothers were there, they heard the familiar songs they often sang on the road. When Król stepped through the doors they were in the midst of a dying song. He walked to the tables they had clustered together for themselves. Król picked up a tankard filled with what looked like cider but could have been ale from the smell, “Brothers, we are going to go on our own course that will lead to more fame and riches you could ever dream of but first we’ll earn our freedom something that we all undoubtedly sold to that devil,” he smiled his lazy smile and grabbed one of the serving girls and whispered in her ear. When his lips stopped forming the words she was as red as the evening sun. “Brothers, drink till you can’t piss standing straight, whore till junior can’t move and eat till your bellies explode, for when the time comes we’ll have a bloodbath.” He darkened and let his words sink in, then they cheered. He looked to the serving girl he had at his arm, “Find a friend you’re comfortable with,” she blushed and ran off, “Orlov enjoy your nights come.” At the back stairs leading to the rooms there were two serving girls who stood waving at him, giggling. Król grabbed an unopened bottle and went off towards the girls, “Aren’t you going to eat first?” “I’m sure I’ll eat plenty tonight.” Then he disappeared up the stairs.