~ : : The Price of Venison : : ~

It's here!!  Finally!!!  The last chapter!!!  *punches air*  This will be the first time ever I have actually finished a story longer than two chapters!

*rejoices*

^^;;;  Reviewers, a big hug for the huge boost to my ego your last reviews gave me.  Now I have to go re-read that review I got for Insurrection to deflate it again...  And please forgive my inherent inability to remember even a vague scrap of the conversation Guy has with a random bandit in that random fortress in the stage where you get him.  ^^

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"Hey!  Green-hair!  The new dog!  Get yer worthless arse over here now!"

Guy nearly fell out of his bunk when Gorm's voice - coming from somewhere outside - sliced away the comfort of sleep, then realized he couldn't have, already being on the floor in a tangle of sheets.  Must've had an odd dream or two last night...

As the leader of the fort full of mercenaries reiterated his orders - making it more colorful each time - Guy scrambled to his feet, pulled his Sacaen-spun tunic on over his shirt and pants, and sat back down on the edge of his bunk.  Mind still clouded from the abrupt awakening, he set about re-braiding his hair.

Pointedly ignoring his now-screaming boss, he grabbed his new Killing Edge from where it was hanging on a rack with countless other weapons - all owned by the other mercenaries.  He'd bought it two weeks ago from the armorer in Santaruz - when he first saw it, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off of the keen, well-tempered blade.  He'd saved his pay for an entire month until he was able to afford it - and he hadn't used it at all.  He wanted to wait until he was worthy of such a weapon.

It had been three months now since he'd parted ways with Matthew in Caelin - and since then, he'd practiced day in and day out to improve his swordsmanship.  Guy had intended to go all the way to Pherae with the merchant Matthew had located for him, but said merchant had stopped in a village north of Santaruz and dismissed all of the men he'd hired to protect his cargo.

Guy had had no choice but to take the next available job - this one.  There had been hardly any skirmishes as of yet - only a few groups of rival bandits, and the occasional sneer from one of Santaruz's guardsmen.  Guy was only thankful that he was paid, fed, and sheltered.  When he had another good amount of gold, he'd set out for Pherae, and from there wander the world...become the greatest swordsman anyone had ever seen...  And finally, when he was the unquestioned champion of Lycia, Bern, Ilia, Etruria, and any other country he'd forgotten, he'd finally return home...and he'd show them.  He'd show them that a man of the Kutolah could learn to use a sword just as well as he could a bow.

Well, not that Guy was a man yet or anything...

But someday...  Someday.  He had big dreams, and he had the determination to pursue those dreams.  It'd come through for him in the end.

And, for now...practice.  Practice, practice, practice.

"DO YA WANT TA BE LAID OFF!?!" bellowed Gorm, still somewhere outside.

"Coming, coming," he yelled back.  "I just got this job.  I don't want to lose it yet."  When he was finally ready, and the Killing Edge was tucked carefully into his belt, he left the room full of cots and sleeping pallets, only taking the time to snag a stale meat pie from the mess hall on his way out.

"Took ya damn long enough," Gorm growled as Guy entered the courtyard - now a tad apprehensive, though he still managed to inhale his breakfast in record time.  "We finally have some real victims," the mercenary informed him with a leer.  "Take a look from the top o' the wall.  Ah've gotta go get the rest o' the boys up and ready.  Yell if they get too close."

Guy nodded as Gorm disappeared back into the fort - he was often given a kind of unofficial sentry duty when the weather was cold and Gorm wanted breakfast.

He climbed the narrow stone steps to the top of the fort, leaning over the wall.  He scanned the horizon, trying to figure out where these new enemies were and how many were coming.  Maybe Gorm was exaggerating.  He did that a lot, come to think of it.

There.  To the north, just outside the village, there were people.  People fighting.  He recognized some of the other bandits that roamed Santaruz amid the horde of strangers.  All the bandits in this region were a rather tough bunch, but they were...getting beaten?  Guy rubbed his eyes.  Yes - the newcomers were cutting them down effortlessly.  If he squinted, he could see the gleam of sun on armor and shields and weapons...

They were heading south, approaching along the road that led directly to the fort, with a man in a long red cloak near the front with two or three mounted warriors.  They were moving quickly as if they intended to reach the fort and fight its inhabitants.

Too close.  Guy hastily abandoned his perch on the wall and ran pell-mell down the stairs - Gorm would skin him alive if his forces were caught unprepared.

As he burst into the courtyard, he yelled, "They're here!  They're almost here!"

Gorm looked up from buckling on his sowrd, a grin showing off his rather large front teeth.  "All right, boys," he said loudly, making sure the others in the courtyard could hear him over their own talk.  "This is what we've been waiting two months fer!"  Cheers from the bandits.  "But remember - corpses don't get paid, so ya'd better do yer best!"

The small group flooded out of the fort, Gorm at the head.  Guy brought up the rear, but moved quickly and followed the others.  He wasn't nervous, though it seemed like he should've been.  He was confident in the skills he'd gained; he knew that today wasn't the day he was destined to die.  Yet...as he crossed the western bridge, he couldn't stop thinking...

The man in the red cloak looked oddly familiar.

* * [The End!] * *