Wizard from The Modern

"Let me take a wild guess as to what your motley crew was about. Hmm, you sought to slay me, yes? While your strength and intentions appear sorely mismatched, your prior actions do suggest a genuine attempt on my life.

Yet I wonder, why pursue the act? Surely it cannot be the virtue of retribution; I suspect the more probable explanation is that someone hired you. Curiously, just yesterday, in this very spot, there was another hired assassin who similarly aimed to kill me.

Thus, it seems within two days, two separate groups sought my demise in the same location. Might I boldly speculate that you are, in fact, aligned with one another? It appears the previous assassin was simply more astute, opting for singular action rather than remaining with you lot, and thus nearly succeeded in her endeavor. Yet, you lot, today, upon discovering the absence of your ally, faltered and scrambled to proceed as per your initial plan.

So, much like a whirlwind, you charged forth in disarray, only to be summarily dispatched. Now, do enlighten me, was I correct in my deductions?"

Richard's smile remained, observing the man beneath him, who appeared visibly terrified, his pupils narrowing with fear as he began to utter, "This…."

But before another word could escape his lips, Richard's small knife descended rapidly, severing the man's carotid artery and jugular vein in a single stroke. Crimson and dark hues of blood erupted forth, instantly saturating the man's linen garments and spill across the ground. Clutching at his neck, the man writhed in a desperate frenzy, but in mere moments, he lay still.

Standing slowly, Richard wiped the blade clean. Raising his gaze, he displayed an expression tinged with danger.

Gazing at the lifeless body at his feet and also surveying the surrounding corpses, he spoke slowly, "This is the last time."

Taking a deep breath, Richard addressed the empty horizon, muttering to himself, "Indeed, it must be the last time. Do not provoke me again. I truly have no intention of squandering my time on this futile, childish game of 'you kill me, I kill you.' I have far more pressing matters at hand. So, do not challenge me; do not test my patience, or you shall find that the outcome is not as you desire."

With those hushed words lingering in the air, Richard inhaled deeply once more, prepared to mount his horse and return to the castle.

At this moment, Tuku and the others gasped in surprise. Richard turned to see a member of the guard suddenly tumble from his horse. In that fleeting instant, Richard recognized him as Hughes.

"Hughes! Hughes! What happened?!" several members of the First Guard rushed toward him.

Furrowing his brow, Richard dismounted and strode toward where Hughes had fallen. Tuku's face had turned crimson, fists clenched tight, teeth gritted as he scanned the surrounding corpses with a furious glare, as if he were ready to revive them just to slay them once more.

"What is the situation?" Richard inquired.

"Master, Hughes… he's injured," Tuku responded, his voice brimming with rage as he added, "It's severe; he may not survive."

"Hmm?" Richard was taken aback, his frown deepening. "What precisely happened? Did we not face ordinary foes in battle?"

"True, these foes were not formidable; they crumbled like soft clay at the first stroke. At that moment, I led our men to the left while Hughes led to the right—both of us reveling in the thrill of battle, completely unaware of any irregularities. Until just now, when Hughes was mounted, discovering that someone had grievously carved into his abdomen with a dagger, leaving him with a slit open across his belly." Tuku trembled with rage, struggling not to unleash his fury further.

"Slit open? How is this possible?" Richard's eyes widened in disbelief. "Were you all not clad in armor?"

"Indeed we were. The issue was, it appears the attacker found the perfect opportunity to stab through the gap beneath Hughes's armor. During the battle, the armor kept him distracted, but once the fighting finished and he relaxed, he felt something amiss. Before he could react, he fell from his horse; damned scoundrels!" Tuku cursed vehemently.

Richard listened, a sense of alarm rising within him, as he strode toward the gathered crowd surrounding Hughes.

"Clear a path. Let me assess the situation," Richard said firmly as he pushed past the first guards encircling Hughes, kneeling beside him.

At that moment, Hughes's armor had been removed, his upper garments torn away to reveal a deep gash in his abdomen, blood seeping profusely. Hughes appeared ghostly pale from the blood loss, his spirit seemingly drained. Were it not for the occasional flutter of his eyelids, he might resemble a corpse.

As Richard knelt to examine the severity of Hughes's wound, Hughes weakly parted his lips, struggling to speak in a request-laden tone, "L-Lord Richard, I know I am surely dying, but I must ask you a favor. Please, promise me one thing. After I am gone, look after Alyssa. I know she is of lowly status, and that I have no right to claim her, but if she could merely serve as your maid… I beg you, Master Richard... please, promise me!"

Having reviewed the injury, Richard rose to his feet, only to find Hughes staring at him with desperate anticipation, searching for an answer.

Tuku forced his way closer, gazing at Hughes with compassion. "Do not worry, Hughes; I trust that Master Richard will look after your sister. You can... rest easy…" Tuku believed that although Richard presented himself as cold, he possessed a certain kindness toward his own.

However, unexpectedly, Richard spoke, "No."

"Hmm?" Tuku, along with the other members of the First Guard, gaped at Richard in shock.

Hughes' eyes widened, filled with pitiful pleading, "Master Richard, please don't… I implore you…"

"Do not beg; I will not accede to your request," Richard replied flatly, "Your sister is better off caring for herself. I do not have the time or inclination for such duties."

At this proclamation, all were momentarily stunned, unable to comprehend.

Care for herself? How could one do so? Could the deceased watch over anyone?

Richard shot a cold glance at Hughes, then stated bluntly once again, "It's merely a gash in your belly; what's the big deal? You shan't die so easily! We'll stitch you up, replenish your plasma, and once your wound heals, you'll be right as rain."