Konstantins Crusade English version, E W [most read books of all time TXT] 📗

not a jealous nobleman. Or was there some other reason else behind this?

In any case, Kazimier left  no doubt that he intended to smash Anselm's skull, should the latter give  him an opportunity to do so. Each attack would have been capable to divide into two halves the much smaller man, and even if Anselm parried or dodged the blows every blow, he could not possibly keep this up for more than a few minutes. He simply lacked the strength that the more experienced man possessed.

"I really do not wish to hurt you."

"What a shame," Kazimier replied, forcing Anselm to dodge another attack. The magician barely managed to prevent himself from falling.  Anselm might be faster than his opponent, but if he lost his balance the fight would be as good as decided. Again Cyrus reached for the ax handle on his hip. However, if he stabbed Kazimier in the back now , probably the whole guard would try and intervene. Or maybe even kill them.  Well ... it would not be the first time, he thought.

Meanwhile, Anselm had managed to regain some ground  A well-aimed cut severed the chin strap of Kazimier's helmet.  Another blow struck it from his head.  As impressive as this was, Cyrus thought, if Anselm did not stop actively trying not to hurt his opponent, Kazimier would defeat him through simple fatigue.

But then it happened. Anselm appeared to stumble once more, one leg giving way under him, and Kazimier saw his chance. The magician however saw the attack coming and reacted in a heartbeat, his opponent having taken the bait, and kicked him with all his strength against the shin. Kazimier let out a cry of pain, waving his saber wildly in the hope of somehow hitting his opponent, then slammed into the mud next to Anselm. The guardsman, however, recovered faster than Anselm seemed to have hoped. With a cry, the man spun around and brandished his sword again at the g mage ... And only hit Earth when Anselm rolled sideways. Dirt and mud smeared his colorful clothes as he pushed the blade up, straight into Kazimier's exposed side. The guardsman froze. None of the bystanders moved as Anselm stood up slowly and pulled back the blade with a jerk. The thin point of the weapon was soaked in blood. Kazimier stared in disbelief between the superficial wound and the magician, while Anselm wordlessly stepped to Cyrus and wiped the dirt from his face.

"The second thing Risara is well known for , my friend: where there is a lot of drinking, there are also too many fools who think they have to start a fight. Fought my first duel when I was fourteen." He patted the stunned-looking wolf on the shoulders. "I'm not afraid of that."

No, Cyrus thought. But he had risked his damn life just to hurt the man as little as possible. In a fight he had started himself. Why?

"You could have killed him." The man with the red hair and the golden armor broke away from the crowd of men around them. He sounded weirdly ... amused about the whole thing, Cyrus thought. And the disquieting feeling he had had before returned. There was something strange about this man’s presence. Was he the leader of these men? Probably. But that did not explain why he made Cyrus so uneasy. It was his eyes. He knew those eyes. Had seen them in too many places already and yet ... And his voice ...

Slowly, the man stepped forward and picked up Kazimier's lost helmet. The once immaculate golden metal now had a distinct dent where Anselm had hit it.

The magician had sunken to one knee, breathing heavily. Mud dripped from his hair and clothes as he cleaned the blade with a piece of his coat.

"Sir Kazimier. You are defeated. "The leader of the Golden Guard still sounded almost amused. Slowly , he turned to Anselm. Kazimier's face, on the other hand, showed only one thing. And Cyrus knew he had to be careful. Not here in the camp, no. But if he saw the man on the battlefield he should better not rely on him having his back. ... "And as for you ... Scribbler . You offended one of my best knights and then beat them. What do you think I should do with you for that? "

 

 

Chapter  7

 

 

 

Anselm felt more than just a little uncomfortable. I just wanted to talk to them, he thought. Well, that was not really working out as he had hoped. Instead, he was now muddy, face to face with the leader of the Golden Guard himself and had beaten up one of his knights.

Not that he was sorry for it. At least not yet. He was afraid, however, that he would still get an opportunity to do so. Golden eyes bored directly into his. He should not have got carried away, thought Anselm. But the allegations of the wolf had hurt.  There were already enough in the Order that considered his specialization as a gimmick.

And if his family knew that the son they had lost to  the Order, did not turn out to become an Imperial Combat Magician ... Anselm banished these thoughts for the moment.  The fact remained:  He had gotten carried away. And why? Because at strange as it might be, the words of the Gejarn had hurt more than the mockery of his fellow mages. He liked Cyrus, and despite his gruffy personality he had tried to protect him. Well ... that hadn’t exactly worked out.

The leader of the Golden Guard still seemed to be waiting for an answer. Or maybe the man just enjoyed making his surroundings nervous. Something about him  was ... disturbing. The golden armor seemed to be too heavy, yet the man moved with unnatural ease, as if he did not even feel the weight. He was no taller in size than Anselm himself and Kazimier towered slightly above him. And yet he would have preferred to beat three men like Kazimier, rather than having to face this man.

"Hetman Macon." Kazimier stepped in front of him and for the first time he was quite glad of the man's presence. "You can not ..."

"I do what I think is right. You have been defeated fairly and honestly. Accept this and do not dishonor yourself by questioning my orders. "Macons voice was dangerously quite. "Now back in line with you. That goes for everyone here.“

Kazimier lowered his head respectfully and withdrew. Hetman Macon nodded in satisfaction.

 „And as for you ... " He tapped Anselm with his pipe against the chest. "This is yours now."

To Anselm's surprise, Macon had picked up and handed him the man's lost helmet. Dozens of questions shot through his mind.  Had Kazimier called this man realy Macon? As in Macon Ordeal? But the man had been dead for almost half a millennium. Perhaps a kind of title for a leader?

Slowly, the man removed the golden mask and fastened it to a hook on his belt.

For the first time, Anselm got a closer look at this Hetman Macon. The red stubble on his head reinforced the man's rather coarse features, though the high cheekbones gave him something aristocratic. Dark brows stood in contrast to those strange golden eyes, whose tone seemed to match that of the armor. Heavy steel plates that had to force even a stronger man almost to his knees. Not to mention the golden-feathered wings on the back. Fine, crystal-lined runes etched into the metal formed a thin, interwoven web. And they were not just decoration, thought Anselm. He could feel the slight tingling in his feet if he looked at them for too long. Magic. Strong magic, more powerful than anything the Order had made in centurys. In the space between the runes gold-plated crests and symbols were embedded. Dragons, horses ... symbolism of the ancient emperors and especially of Macon Ordeal. Not too surprising, he thought, but could it be that this man was indeed wearing the old armor of the Emperor? If so, it might explain why his men addressed him as Hetman Macon.

"I ... guess ... thank you?" He turned the helmet in his hands. One by one, the rest of the men of the Golden Guard disappeared and returned to their duties until only he, Cyrus, and Hetman Macon remained behind.

"You think that's my thanks?" The hetman smiled coldly. "You said you are here at the Emperor's request. Some spoiled nobleman who is too fine for military service, even if that only means waving a sword around and demanding others to run to their deaths. Truly the kind of people we need."

"Actually ... sir, I have no access to my family's money. The last time I had contact with them when I was five. "Or at least, the last pleasant contact. "I ... belong to the Order."

"I figured that much, but if you really are one of the magicians, you would have turned Kazimier to dust and be done with it. Why not?"

Something about this question irritated him. This was not about knowing if he was really a magician, thought Anselm. But then what did this man truly want to know? If he could have killed. And why did he want to know that? It did not matter, he thought. It did not matter what Macon was planning as long as he stood for what he was. The reason why the Order could not have used him in any other role.

 "No," he explained. "Not as long as I have another option. I could have killed him. With or without magic I decided against it. "And he would always decide against it. That was the simple truth.

The answer seemed to surprise Macon for the first time.

"Anyway. You have defeated Kazimier. It seems only fitting that I offer you his place. "

"So ..." Anselm looked again to Cyrus, hoping for some backup. "Thank you, really, but ..."

Cyrus interrupted him: "I would accept that offer , if I  were you.  Lord Macon would surely be... offended if you didnt."

"It's called Hetman Macon. And no, I did not give him the right to refuse in the first place."

"You know, I'm really trying to make sure he does not get killed.” Cyrus replied. “ If you wanted to recruit him for your guard, it would be a lot harder. "

"I would say that's your problem, Soldier.”

"Cyrus," the wolf replied.

"Anyway, I suppose the Emperor would feel very annoyed if his newest toy breaks down and no more reports returned to Canton with the treasure carts. I certainly will not stop you from trying to protect him. We can use a magician, but I will not take care of him. And as for the Order, well as far as I see it I am doing them a favour. "

Cyrus turned back to Anselm. " Surely the Order would want to have a say in the matter before someone ... just recruited you for their cause? "

"I'm afraid no. Or at least ... "The young magician scratched his head. " The Order ... let's just say it there is a reason as to why I'm here."

Cyrus grinned. "Great. Do you hear that? He is worthless to you. "

"I do not think you