Family Business 63 (Patreon)

Family Business

Chapter 63

-VB-

They set out again the morning after, but Garen did not expect to run into this kind of problem outside his brother’s lands.

“WITH ME!” he roared as his steed charged forth. Half of the mounted soldiers and the Black Guards rode forth with him.

Their enemies, unorganized bandits by the look of it, jolted in surprise at the thunderous galloping of their charge, and couldn’t muster a defense in time to fight them. He swung his sword at the first bandit he ran across and felt the slice of thin leather armor, flesh, and bones across his blade before he swung it completely around and struck another.

The previously stalemated battlefield became a one-sided massacre as he and his brother’s men struck the rear of the bandit formation. The good travelers accosted by the bandits saw this as their chance and renewed their assault.

Garen got off the horse and began attacking them on foot. They looked at him and charged, thinking that he was an easier target now that he wasn’t on a horse…

But then again, they didn’t know about his little brother’s sword. It wasn’t as big or long as his usual sword nor was it as heavy. However, this basket-hilted broadsword still carried the same weight!

He stomped his left foot out flat on the ground and swung horizontally.

The lead bandit tried to block, but the top half of his shortsword flew away, soon followed by his head. As the body fell, the other bandits charged in. One of them came in a little faster than the others and got nicked in the neck by the same strike with his arms up for a downward strike.

The momentum carried him, but he was too late. By the time Garen kicked the rapidly weakening man away from him after a failed slash, he was barely moving.

The other bandits, seeing that he wasn’t going to all to a mere one-on-one attack quickly tried to surround him…

But then they came under attack from Jorasmang soldiers, the Black Guards, and whomever they had been attacking in the first place. .

Garen charged into the fight before the bandits could regain their bearing, and sliced three more of them.

And that was it. In the next few moments, the rest of the troops mopped up the survivors and left a few alive. By the end of it, most of the bandits lay dead on the roadside and Garen got to meet the people he saved.

They, the people he saved, were a caravan of some forty people. More than half of them were regular civilians who had been hiding in the carriages, tented carts, and cover. The other half was the guards and it was unfortunate that more than half of them had died defending their people.

“Greetings! I am Garen Crownguard,” he said while strolling up to the guard who looked to be in charge.

The caravan guard captain stared up at him for a moment before his eyes widened.

“Oh my goodness. Captain, it’s you,” he muttered.

Garen frowned. Captain? He wasn’t a capta-.

He paused and stared at the guard captain and his eyes widened. “Kalam!” he shouted in surprise before laughing. “It seems my days of pulling you out of the fire weren’t done after you retired!” Kalam, his older old subordinate, looked totally different now. Gone was his clean-shaven face and a salt and pepper short mustache and beard covered half of his face. His down-slanted and soulful eyes looked alive, too. Garen found himself pausing again. “... You look good, Kalam.”

He smiled. “I’ve done a lot of good out here in the marches.”

“Oh? Is that where we are already?” he asked and looked around.

Yes, the terrain was more hilly than the flatlands that he was used to in his brother’s lands and those immediately surrounding it. At the very least, he could tell that this wasn’t the heartlands of Demacia.

He would know. The Crownguard lands was also in the periphery.

“And when you say the marches…” he trailed off.

“This is the Freljord Marches, captain.”

“I got promoted,” he grinned. “They call me commander these days.”

Kalam grinned. “Good. A man like you can’t stay a captain forever.” And then his eyes widened. “... Oh, thank the gods. They sent you to deal with the demon, didn’t they? The king hasn’t abandoned us.”

He nodded. “My little brother is the Minister of Magic, and he, as the hand of the king, asked me to come to solve it. He feared that there was no one else in the kingdom who could.”

Kalam grinned. “I can’t disagree with your little brother. And Minister of Magic, huh?” The last bit was with less enthusiasm.

“As well as the Headmaster of his own magic academy, yes,” he nodded.

“... Busy.”

“Yes, but he also is the one who cares enough to ask me to come out here,” he sighed. “As if I am not busy myself. If the king did not understand that Marr would not ask me for help if he couldn’t handle it himself, then he might even be out here himself.” He paused. “So where is this caravan going?”

“Fossoway.”

“Ah, I see. I suppose we will be going in separate directions, then.”

Here, Kalam looked confused.

“What are you talking about, cap- commander? There’s a demon in Fossoway.”

“... What?”

That wasn’t what Marr told him.

“And what is the name of this demon?”

“It appears in the night.”

“Avoid the night.”

“They call it Nocturne.”

“Fiddl-” Wait, what?