A Scramble to Retreat

"This is what a Purple Dragon Knight is!"

Amid the chaos, Aaron and Gordon grappled, clinging to each other as they rolled across the greasy floor.

Aaron's sneak attack had worked beautifully at first. His punch had bloodied the duke's grandson's nose. The blow had landed so perfectly that Aaron doubted he could pull off another one like it.

But the viscount was about to face a vicious counterattack. Gordon might have been a spoiled young man, but he was also an excellent fighter. He had slipped, taken a punch to the face and another to the chest, and found himself seeing stars. Yet in the chaos, he seized his chance. He shifted position, grabbed Aaron's trousers with one hand, and dragged him down. With his other arm shielding his face, he forced Aaron into a close-quarters struggle.

"You Salian brat! Tricks are all you know!" Gordon snarled. His fist swept out in a smooth arc, and he knocked Aaron's punch aside with his forearm.

"When you're losing, everything you say sounds like an excuse."

Aaron borrowed a favorite saying of Thay's Red Wizards. He tried to pull away, but Gordon held fast, leaving him no room to open up the distance.

A well-trained spellcaster never feared close combat.

But close combat was almost the only way non-spellcasters like warriors and barbarians could defeat a spellcaster!

Gordon knew Aaron was a spellcaster. Aaron would never dare attack him outright with magic, but using magic to strengthen himself was no foul in a bar fight!

Yes, even bar fights had rules in the Realms!

Don't give him the chance!

Gordon hammered at Aaron's guard. His punches landed so heavily that Aaron's bones gave dull thuds. Gordon drove an elbow into his shoulder, then struck down without hesitation.

"Urgh!" Aaron's stomach was already full of food and drink. The blow left the viscount dizzy and fighting a powerful urge to vomit.

Something's coming up my throat!

Aaron grabbed Gordon in turn and slammed a fist into his stomach. Judging by Gordon's pained expression, he was just as close to throwing up. Aaron then forced him back with his shoulder, only for Gordon to hook a foot around his leg and trip him.

The two of them rolled across the grease again.

His father's lessons surfaced in Aaron's mind.

"Every attack is a defense, and every defense is an attack, Aaron. When you attack, you must think about your defense. When you defend, your mind must already be planning your next attack."

"An excellent warrior always strives to unite offense and defense. We fight to protect our country, like heroes. When an enemy attacks, our first thought must be to dodge. If we can't, we control the blow, turn aside its force, and use their momentum to strike back."

With that in mind, Aaron caught Gordon's arm as they rolled and punched him in the chest. The duke's grandson cried out in pain and drove his hip into Aaron's abdomen.

Gordon was stronger than him!

Aaron felt like a spinning top, whirling wildly across the greasy floor.

What is this? That eternal dancer in the Palace of Slaanesh?

FNNDP!

Using the force of the spin, Aaron grabbed Gordon's knee. Gordon seized his shoulder in return. One spinning top became two. To anyone watching, they looked less like they were fighting than performing a dance together!

They slid faster and faster until both were spent.

Now! Aaron hooked an arm around Gordon's neck and hurled him away.

Gordon screamed as he landed on the filthy stone floor nearby. His prized naval uniform now looked like rags from a beggar's den. He retched, and vomit gushed from his mouth and nostrils, splattering the collar of his fine shirt.

Aaron staggered twice. He clamped a hand around his throat, holding down the liquid that wanted to burst out.

That felt good! The power of Slaanesh exulted.

The viscount looked up.

Damn it!

Apart from Norrington the Paladin, all his brothers-in-arms had been knocked down!

How can these guys be so useless? Aaron cursed inwardly. If you could fight half as well as I can, would we be in this mess?

For all his anger, Aaron knew why.

Their opponents were naval officers. Though they were outnumbered by the Purple Dragon recruits, they were career soldiers in their mid-twenties who had already seen plenty of real combat.

Aaron's side was a band of recruits, most not yet twenty. They were fighting on sheer nerve and had not even passed their recruit assessments. They were all apprentices facing elites.

We're finished! Gordon was out of the fight, but Aaron spotted at least three naval officers closing in.

This is bad!

As Aaron wondered what to do, the onlookers suddenly parted.

Several fully armed guards shoved through the crowd and strode toward them. "Queen's Blade, gentlemen! What are you doing here? Brawling in a crowd? You've disgraced the kingdom!"

Oh, no!!!

Army and navy men alike jolted. The shock sobered them at once.

"Run!" Gordon cried first. The duke's grandson was already imagining the punishment he would face if caught.

"Retreat!" Aaron shouted to his brothers.

"Leave them!" The naval officers still on their feet bolted, abandoning two fallen comrades to the Queen's Blade.

Time to go! Aaron dismissed Grease, hauled recruit Ramsay off the floor, and charged toward an alley in the lower city without looking back.

And just like that, a band of career soldiers scattered into the dark.

"Catch them!" The Queen's Blade pinned the two naval officers who had failed to escape. Aaron caught their attention as he fled. "Get that one!"

It couldn't be helped. His extraordinary charisma made him far too conspicuous.

First-circle spell, Expeditious Retreat!

Aaron cast the spell on himself. His sluggish pace doubled. Just as two members of the Queen's Blade reached for his clothes, he surged forward, slipped beyond their grasp, and darted through the gap between two stalls.

Grease!

Aaron sprinted a few steps, then threw himself forward. He slid over the alley's uneven ground on the slick surface created by his spell, sprang up, vaulted a wall, and crouched behind a pile of firewood.

"Woof!" The household seemed to be asleep. A large yellow dog watched Aaron with a hint of hostility in its eyes, ready to bark at the intruder.

Charm Person!

Aaron cast the cantrip. When the dog looked puzzled, the viscount pulled out some dried meat he had grabbed backstage and tossed it over.

Dried meat had fallen from the sky, and there was that charm cantrip too. The dog's hostility gave way to suspicion. It studied the filthy human, its tail swaying, then picked up the meat and began eating with gusto.

I'll hide here for now, Aaron thought.

Hurried footsteps approached. The Queen's Blade had arrived. They kicked the door open and woke the family. The man of the house took one look at them, clutched his chest in fright, and fainted.

The Queen's Blade's foul reputation in the lower city was well earned.

They harshly questioned the family about whether anyone had come in. The woman kept saying no, but they refused to believe her and announced they would search the house.

It was an old habit of the Queen's Blade. Whenever they entered homes in the lower city, they helped themselves to a few valuable "suspicious items." That might not have been what Azoun IV intended when he founded the organization, but habits grew a little at a time.

The woman could do nothing but cry. Two children huddled around her legs, frightened into tears alongside their mother.

Aaron curled up in the shadows behind the woodpile.

He was no Rogue. He knew nothing of ropes, grappling hooks, sneaking, or hiding, and he could not yet learn the second-circle spell Invisibility.

But the power of Slaanesh within him roared with excitement.

This is incredible! Fighting feels incredible, running away feels incredible, and hide-and-seek feels incredible too!

The new experience delighted the power of Slaanesh.

Stirring up trouble, brawling, slipping away, living on the edge—Slaanesh loves it! More!

Aaron could not share its delight. The Queen's Blade were a menace. How could he get anything done with people like them around?

I need to think of something!

One member of the Queen's Blade went inside. Soon, Aaron heard things falling over. The other entered the courtyard, scanned the tiny space, and slowly approached the woodpile.

One step. Two.

Closer and closer. Aaron could hear the guard's footsteps clearly now, along with his eager breathing.

Where else in the courtyard could someone hide but behind the woodpile?

"Woof! Woof, woof!"

The dog barked.

The big yellow dog barked insistently. Wagging its tail, it pointed a paw at a dog-sized hole beneath the wall. "Woof, woof, woof!"

"He escaped through there?" the guard asked, pretending he understood the dog.

"Woof! Woof!" The dog made a digging motion.

"Damn it. Kel, get out here! He escaped through a hole in the wall."

"After him!" The two members of the Queen's Blade hurried out, without a word about the broken belongings on the floor or the door they had kicked in.

Aaron sighed softly. He stayed in the courtyard for another two minutes. Once the house was quiet again, he took a Golden Lion from his pocket and placed it in the dog's food bowl.

The sky was growing darker. Aaron thought it was getting late.

The viscount checked his surroundings once more. Certain no one was there, he rose, slipped into the alley, and vanished into the night.

The next day, Saturday, at the Purple Dragons' fortress.

"Argh!" A whip cracked.

Every recruit who had gone to the Dragon Tooth Tavern the night before was tied to a post and being whipped by a veteran.

"Ah!" A lash struck Aaron's fair back squarely. The man wielding the whip showed no mercy.

"Oh, our lively, lively recruits! It seems you have far too much energy!" Grand Inspector Ian Hutson walked behind the recruits with a baton in hand, smiling without warmth. "Like fighting that much? Then fight hard!"

"Argh!" After taking three full lashes, Aaron was released from the post. His back burned, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

He suddenly felt sickened.

The lashes had not hurt Aaron much. If anything, they had felt a little good.

He was growing stronger, but so was the power of Slaanesh within him, along with every other power of Chaos. Controlling them grew harder by the day. If he lost control of himself, everything would be over.

For now, all Aaron could do was kiss the four gods' asses, please their powers, and draw strength from them.

There was only one chance, the only way out of this predicament.

Become a god!

"Those who won get three lashes!" Ian's voice rang out behind Aaron. "Those who lost get thirty! Whip them hard! You couldn't even beat those naval idiots. You've dragged the honor of the Purple Dragon Knights through the mud!"

"Then all of you will spend three days in solitary confinement! And since summer's here, you'll clean the fortress's entire water reservoir. Scrub every corner and refill it with clean water!"

"As for you three—Havrel, Norrington, Ramsay. Three brothers, three fine friends. Impressive! One has money, one has fists, and one has a catgirl. Tell me, brothers, where's the catgirl you spent so much money on now?" Ian lifted each recruit's chin with his baton.

Havrel's face was so bruised and swollen that he could barely speak. Norrington held his head high, convinced he had done nothing wrong. Ramsay looked ready to cry.

"You three will clean out the fortress latrines," Ian said with a sneer. "Going this far for a lycanthrope? I must say, you've made quite an impression."

"Everyone, stop! Look over here!" Ian clapped, signaling everyone on the vast training ground to halt. "Look! The first brand-new little squad of this recruit class has been formed!"

"I hereby grant their little squad the glorious name of the 'Dunghole Squad'!" Three shovels were handed to the recruits. "May the Namemaker bless them!"

Laughter erupted from the corner towers, the walls, the training ground, the fortress gate, and the people peering out from the courtyard.

The three recruits flushed scarlet. A hundred pairs of eyes felt like a hundred swords piercing their hearts.

"As for you, Aaron Salian, I heard that while they were fighting over the catgirl yesterday, you were singing onstage." Ian approached Aaron with his baton. "So you bear no responsibility for that."

"Recruit, you may go to Banneret Lucian and continue your training. That is your right. Or you can stay with your brothers and use a shovel to scrape the algae off the reservoir. That could take all day."

Ian regarded Aaron with contempt.

"Of course I'm staying with my brothers!" Aaron took a shovel and climbed straight into the reservoir without hesitation, letting the dirty water soak his trousers.

The recruits' looks toward Aaron changed.

"A true brother!"

Standing on the bank, Ian gave a slight nod where no one could see.

At least he has some sense.

Only if you treated others as brothers would they entrust their lives to you. It was an iron rule of the army.

They scrubbed the reservoir, then went into solitary confinement. Each person received a candle no longer than five centimeters to use when relieving himself. Otherwise, there was only darkness and silence.

Time in the solitary cell tormented Aaron. For a Child of Chaos, it was the most dreadful punishment imaginable.

Hell. This is real hell!

But after a full day alone in the silent cell, Aaron was released early.

"What's going on? Wasn't it supposed to be three days?"

"Someone's here to see you, Viscount Salian," the guard said with a smile. "She said it had to be you, so the order decided to let you out for now."

She? It has to be me?

A white robe, a moon pattern, a long golden braid falling down her back, and a familiar silver-star mask.

Eleanor stood waiting outside the cell.

Warmth surged through Aaron's chest. He hurried forward and wrapped both arms around a bewildered Eleanor.

Miss Cleric! You're my angel!!!