Published via Ecency

The Bullox huffed. Serje didn't know what was worse: its breath or its stench.

"If you would be so kind as to back off a couple of paces."

The Bullox growled in its ugly tongue. It pounded its hairy chest with its massive war axe - twice the size of Serje - its rings in its horns undulating to the rhythm.

"Yes, yes." Serje was angry, the creature's spit dripped down his face. "Very menacing, very scary." He didn't dare spit back, oh, he could talk all he wanted. But as dimwitted as they were, spitting back would still be seen as an act of aggression. "I just want you to know, you do not intimidate me. And you will die, shrieking like the beast you are."

The beast's stance changed, its huffs bracing as if to hit him. Did his face give away his true intentions? Serje heedlessly tried to unbind himself from the pole, but again he failed. The Bullox sure knew how to tie knots.

The war axe shone in the firelight, and for a brief moment, Serje could see his angry reflection. Who gave these beasts such steal anyway? A conundrum for another time.

Sounds in the distance made the Bullox turn its focus. "Oh, what's that? Seems like your friends could -" The beast stormed off after the source of the commotion in the camp. "- use your help." Serje sighed. "Can't even act cool to a mindless beast..."

Serje was tied up in a small tent. Well, small for Bullox standards. Sounds of steal and shouts echoed throughout the rudimentary camp. Were they winning? They had to be...

A different Bullox burst into the tent. Serje's heart fell like a stone at its sight. He refused to think that -

The beast's head fell to the floor, Sylla standing above it with her sword. She was bloody, she was bruised, and she was beautiful.

"Love!" Serje laughed, his bravado dissipating.

"Look at your face." Sylla cut his bonds. "Did you actually doubt me?"

"Of course not." He lied, "I'm just happy to see you." He rubbed his chafed wrists, then hugged her. "What took you so long?"

"The damn general changed his mind at the last minute. Demanded a higher cut."

"What? What did you tell him?"

"I reminded him who I was." Sylla's smile was devilish.

Outside the tent, carnage reigned. Bodies, human and Bullox alike, littered the camp. The moans of the dying filled the air with a sickening dread that nearly made Serje puke right there. The men all wore gray chainmail, enchanted - the mark of the Gray Company. One of the great sellswords companies in the Eastern Empire.

Their leader, General Ihu, approached the duo. His armor was gold, and unblooded. "So you found your pup, eh Sylla?"

Sylla's grip tightened, but her voice was steady. "And you general? Did you find anything?"

"We did." His tone was likewise steady, but Serje sensed something. Something... eerie about it. He looked at Sylla. He hoped she heard it too.

Sylla nodded. "Lead the way then. We will follow."

General Ihu and his guard of two lead the way to a big tent on the edge of the camp. Along the way, Serje poked Sylla and her eyes affirmed she had sensed it too. Whatever it was, it wasn't going according to plan. Serje would feel afraid, if not for his love walking right beside him.

Before they entered Sylla raised her hand. "It's inside then?"

"Yes, come." The general made for the tent flap.

Sylla didn't move. "No."

Ihu raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No." Sylla's eyes screamed death. "You think us fools, Ihu. I know those markings, that's the torture tent. There's no Bullox treasure inside."

The general's face turned red at her use of his name. Pride. Every self-important buffoon's weakness.

"You insolent! I will -"

But Sylla's sword was already out and on his throat before his guards could react. "I should spill your blood right now."

"Then you will die!" Ihu said through gritted teeth. "Screaming, and your pup -"

"His name is Serje." Sylla's blade drew blood. The mounting number of swords around her did not frighten her in the slightest. "And you'll do well to remember that, little man. Now. Didn't I warn you not to try me? Hmm?"

The general's eyes danced. "You really think you could take all of us on? Let alone tired! You are mad!"

Sylla got really close. "Who said I was tired?"

The general didn't seem persuaded, but he was also a craven. "Alright then. We split it evenly, as you said."

She thought about it. "No. We don't."

The blade slid, and blood splattered her face like paint.

Sylla dashed to his personal guard, dispatching them both with one swing. Her speed was unlike anything Serje had seen, even for her. She was using some heavy enchantments this night.

Serje smashed two pouches at his feet. The smoke pushing back the onslaught of men. Serje already had injected the antidote before he got 'caught' by the Bullox to reveal the position of their camp. Sylla was right, no more elaborate plans. Serje ran and put his back to a nearby wooden construction, dagger in hand.

When the chaos subsided, seven bodies greeted the floor. The other ten started to warily move back as Sylla approached. She shouted, wild and untamed, they turned and ran like children. Sylla spat at the ground as they left.

"You alright?" Serje ran over to her.

"Not even a scratch." She spat again. "Weaklings. I'm glad we used them to assault the camp, their blood's worth less than the Bulloxes."

"That was scary, Sylla," Serje said, worried and tired and angry.

"What? That?" Sylla almost stuttered. "Those weak -"

"We talked about this." Serje was firm.

Sylla lowered her head. "I'm sorry, love. It won't happen again."

Serje wiped the blood off her face. "I know. Let's get out of here."

Sylla's smile returned. "You? Leaving without getting paid?" Serje looked at her confused. "Come on you oaf. I know where the blasted coins are." Tsk. "You keep doubting me."

"Ha..." Serje ran to catch up to her. "Wait up!"

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