Guardian's Farm 20

The lower floor was equally empty, which allowed me to reach my target quickly. My heart was beating hard, a swirl of conflicting thoughts filling my head, afraid that Eli was imprisoned because someone had noticed the true nature of his technique.

And, I had been so confident when I taught him that instead of Ember Jab, confident that no one would notice the difference in such a remote corner of the world.

It hurt to find out I was mistaken this way. My blood boiled while I approached, but I stayed silent. I had lived through too many atrocities for guilt and panic to force me into a mistake. The surprise factor was my biggest advantage, and I didn’t want to sacrifice that.

I fixed my helmet while I approached, just close enough to hear Eli’s desperate whisper. “I told you … I bought it from a merchant,” he said, showing that my trust was not misplaced. The better strategy would have been to reveal my location and drive them there … but Eli still thought that I was a veteran that lost my abilities due to the injuries completely.

Another decision of mine that seemed to have blown back worse than I had expected.

My footsteps were light as I got closer to the only occupied cell, glad that I was not wearing any armor. Eternal Set might have protected me from some catastrophic dangers, but subtly, it was not.

When I arrived at the cell, I could have prowled at the edge of the cell, listening to see if they would reveal anything important, but that would mean letting Eli get tortured more. If Elric was still with me, he would have argued that it was the correct choice. Questioning hostile agents was difficult without having a general idea of their objectives.

But, my mistakes had cost the kid more than I would have liked already. Letting him get tortured more just to get a few nuggets of information would have been an even bigger disservice.

I took a breath, touching my internal energy, molding it through the technique I was most proficient at, not even attempting to use Serene Leaf. The technique of the wood elves was a fun pastime when I tried to adapt to farm life, but not when I was facing actual enemies, competent enough to distinguish Ember Jab and Eternal Sun Spear.

It was a job for Indomitable Blade.

I had no sword with me, which would have been a problem if I had merely an adept at the technique. But, I had long transcended the restrictions of its forms.

The internal energy danced in my blood … and along it, came the pain, my injuries coming back to life in an instant. But, pain was an old friend, easy to ignore. I shifted, standing in front of the bars of the cells. Eli was at the corner, chained and spread against the wall, his torso a bloody mess, but all his limbs were still in place, which was some comfort.

In front of him stood two men, dressed in clothes that could be mistaken for ordinary linens the townspeople wore, but the weapons they carried gave their extraordinary origin away.

I moved.

 The cell door was locked, but as the Indomitable power spread in my body, it didn’t even slow me down. A kick was enough to shatter the lock, and I was inside the cell. The only problem was the pain from my injuries, radiating as I exerted myself, but I ignored them.

The two figures reacted to my presence faster than I had expected, which belied their training. They were not ordinary operatives. The one holding the whip turned and attacked me in an instant, while the other pulled his dagger just as smoothly, the glow of internal energy already at the edge of the blade.

It was an impressive display. Even experienced fighters usually required a few seconds of focus to affect their weapons, showing that they were professional, quickly reacting to an ambush. Against any other opponent, it would have been enough to reverse the situation.

Too bad they were fighting against me.

I ducked under the whip, closing the distance with a large step, and slammed my fist right onto his diaphragm, feeling his bones snap under my power as he collapsed. He was not dead, but it was not a comfortable situation.

The second attacker swung his blade down, determined to take the opportunity to finish me off rather than trying to defend his accomplice. A good tactic, but a heartless one. Ultimately, against me, equally useless. I was ready for an attack, my hand lashing out to tap against his wrist, enough to ruin his targeting.

He tried to twist his blade in a manner that was familiar, but exactly how, I wasn’t sure. In any other situation, I would have made him fight more to check that, but Eli’s situation was too urgent to play with a nameless assassin in the hopes of revealing more. More importantly, I couldn’t risk them calling for help. I didn’t want to fight against all the guards the town could muster.

Before he could recover, I grabbed his wrist, a twist enough to shatter his arm, while my other hand smashed against his jaw twice, enough to send him to the land of unconsciousness.

A tick to the head made sure he fainted as well, all taking mere seconds. The fact that they were still alive was another evidence of their training.

I wasn’t particularly trying to hold back, and I didn’t need a weapon to be deadly.

I turned my attention to Eli, hanging from his chains, half delirious. “A-am I dreaming?” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“I hope not,” I answered even as I went through the pockets of the two operatives I had just taken down, finding not only the key but also quite a rich bag that included a surprising amount of gold, several sealed orders, torture implements, and most importantly, medical supplies.

But, nothing that would identify their origins.

Obvious spies. The only question, was for whom they were working.

I freed Eli from his chains and laid him down before I started checking the medical supplies. Several high-grade salves for blood clotting, multiple pills for recovering internal energy, and silk bandages. Quite a spread.

“You’re going to be fine, just try to stay awake,” I said to Eli while I went through his external wounds, looking for other signs of torture. The silver lining, other than the horrible whipping he had gone through, I only saw signs of a bad beating. Both were treatable.

“I-it can’t be … master,” Eli whispered, delirious. “Are you dead as well? But … I didn’t tell them.”

“Calm down,” I said, pressing to his shoulder to prevent him from moving as I used the salve to deal with the worst of his bleeding, then moved onto the needle to seal his worst wounds. It was not ideal, but my capabilities as a healer leaned toward rough and effective.

All I needed was to put him together enough to handle his escape. I fed him some potions that would help him recover somewhat once I finished stitching his wounds. “M-master. Are you really here? How?” he asked.

“I’ll tell you once we get you out here,” I replied. “First, let’s make sure you’ve recovered enough to move.”

“N-no, you should —” he started, but a gasp of pain cut him off. That was better than the earlier numbness. I fed him some painkillers from the medicine pack before I continued with the wounds.

I didn’t hurry up. Regardless of the details, it was clear that the guards had left the two to have their time torturing Eli, meaning they wouldn’t come running down. Even if they did, they would come down to check, vulnerable for a takedown.

Maybe even giving us an opportunity to disguise ourselves as guards.

Soon, the painkillers started to work, and Eli stilled, his chest rising and falling gently as he breathed. I bandaged his wounds before I turned my attention to the other two. I first bound them properly and stuffed their mouth to prevent any cries for help when they woke up.

Once that was complete, I started going through their equipment more carefully. Their swords were ordinary, but the same didn’t apply to their daggers. It wasn’t the top-of-the-line gear I used before my retirement, but it wasn’t too far off.

The suspicious part was that the blades carried no maker mark, which was downright suspicious when it came to weapons of this quality.

I frowned. It was bad, as it pretty much guaranteed that they were not working for the Baron, or any local nobles. Purchasing weapons of this quality wouldn’t be out of their means, but one that was forged without a maker’s mark was a deliberate obfuscation. Blacksmiths that could forge such weapons were justifiably prideful, and wouldn’t easily skip putting their mark.

Whoever these two worked, it was big.

“M-master,” Eli muttered once more several minutes later, looking recovered.

I turned toward him. It was time to get some answers.