For The Republic, Part 3

The broad-shouldered, chinly endowed man placed his hands on his hips. "Well, I still say I should have been strike team leader! After all, I am The Ch-"

"If you finish that sentence, I may kill you. And for fucks sake, can you please draw your sword!" interrupted a girl, oranged eyed, and just into her adult years. Back to back with Ferrus, She pointed her crystalline staff ahead of her, sending yet another blast of light around them, causing stones to pick up from the earth below, battering each of the warriors that had begun to surround them.

"Hm? Oh, haha, of course!" retorted Ferrus Orthos, The Champion, The Chinpion, The Chimpion, 80 morbillion star adventurer, pride of the guild, acquaintance of Aetius the War-Master, and wielder of a very large sword. Brandishing it high, he shot forward like a rocket, cleaving a man in twain with a single stroke, almost effortlessly. He looked up as two more men barreled down the stairs, each a bearded half-elf. They fell to the ground, sliding nearby the girl.

"Oh, good morning Aurelia! Is Ferrus still complaining? See, this is why I'm the Strike Team Leader!" said Conrad, the younger of the two men, with a smile on his face. Aurelia rolled her eyes, sighing.

"He is still complaining, yes. And you are not the strike leader." She said, blasting another assailant, moments away from sticking a blade into Conrads throat, though he barely seemed to notice. "What happened upstairs?"

Brandishing two longswords, the eldest of the men, and the actual Strike Team Leader, Mateo, cut ribbons into a woman who burst into the doorway of the building, a spelltome in hand and arcane words on her lips. "Nothing much, just a very angry Murin. He punched Conrad in the balls, and kicked him down the stairs. Unfortunately, I was standing behind him. Behind you, girl!"

Aurelia turned quickly, seeing a brutish Half-Orc with a raised up cleaver, on the downswing. His momentum was ruined as another blade, The Champions blade, pierced his heart from behind. Ferrus smugly smiled at the girl, who turned to Mateo.

"Be aware of your surroundings, Aurelia. You must always maintain proper situational awareness, both in and out of battle!" He said, many years of experience giving credence to his words. Aurelia gave a nod at him, firing a missile of acid at a man behind Mateo, who nearly struck him with a dagger. Mateo laughed. "Do as I say, not as I do, eh? Where's Conrad?"

Ferrus shrugged. "Who do I look like, his father?"

Mateo scoffed, looking up towards the stairs. He could swear he felt a breeze coming in from up there. He waved the two forward, as they followed him up the staircase. There they saw Conrad, a regal scimitar drawn, with a flurry of wind surrounding him. Before him was a Murin, a Ratfolk, covered in bruises and scars, bandages wrapped around his knuckles, up through to his elbows. Ferrus raised up his sword, but Mateo put a hand in front of him. "Not yet, boy. Just watch and learn."

The Murin leaped forward, moving to kick Conrad in the head. In response, almost faster than the eye could see, the man moved the blade of his scimitar in front of his face, blade facing his opponent. Moving mid-air to avoid the sharp steel and to strike elsewhere, a punch meant for Conrads gut instead was sheered almost clean in half by a razor-sharp wind. He recoiled backwards, trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. Aurelia looked puzzled.

"What just happened?" She said, taking a closer look. Conrad seemed to stand still, his sword still raised in front of his head. But as she looked further, she began to understand.

"Aye, you see now, do you?" Muttered Mateo. "The Wind-Dancers Blade is deadly in anyones hands, but for Conrad? It stops being a weapon. It is a part of him, in every sense of the word."

"He's just... Standing still, right? Nothings happening. Lets just give the sword to Aetius, he'll probably be better with it. Besides, he's my buddy!" boasted Ferrus, but Mateo straightened his head, and pointed. Narrowing his eyes, he soon began to see too. With every passing instant, the smallest shift in movement appeared, apparating like an infinite series of clones, all of Conrad, and each moving with such immense speed that only the mightiest and experienced warriors would be able to notice. The countless movements, all in but a moment, all happening somehow simultaneously, took the man aback for a moment. By the time he shook his head and came to his senses, the Murin warrior had already fallen, dead, and with little clue as to what had actually killed him.

Conrad, sword now lowered, shrugged his shoulders, and walked upstairs. Letting out a sigh of relief, he climbed into his cushioned chair, and reclined backwards, kicking his boots up onto his desk. "See, this is why I'm the best!" he laughed. "And why I get the best chair in the Republic!"

Ferrus turned, clenching his fist. One day, HE would have the best chair in the Republic. No, in the whole world! Even so, the display downstairs had proved Conrads position as leader of the guild, and respect was due. He had learned lately that there was still much more to be learned.

Aurelia smiled at the old man next to her, who stroked his beard and gave a few nods. "Yes, yes, very good. Bah, what the hell? Marvelous job, my girl! Damn fine work!" He gave her a pat on the shoulder, then stretched out his arms. Aurelia continued the smile.

"Couldn't have done it without you, pops! We work well together!" She said. She did not know why, but she felt an affinity for the man. He had been a good teacher to her. She hoped he would continue passing on his knowledge, when all of this was finally over.

"Indeed we do!" Called Ferrus. "But there is no time to be lost! The Republic awaits! And what will it do without its Champions?"