"Move." The assassin leader ordered.

Galen didn’t. "You won’t be getting past me," He said, his voice was even and carrying no fear. He drew his blade. The sound of steel leaving its sheath cut through the noise around them.

The leader tilted his head slightly, assessing Galen’s stance. Galen’s build was taller and more built. But he had no fear. His mission must be accomplished.

"Then you die." The leader adjusted his grip on his sword and lunged at Galen.

The leader moved too fast. He attacked with a series of quick, shallow cuts aimed at Galen’s hand and forearms, attempting to disable rather than deliver a killing blow. Galen raised his sword and blocked every strike.

The leader closed the distance; he aimed for Galen’s midsection, but Galen twisted his body, and the blade trapped the assassin’s sword. For a moment, they were locked together, their faces inches apart. The leader’s eyes were shadowed with no mercy. Galen shoved him back.

The leader followed immediately with another strike. Galen turned his body and deflected it, then countered with a quick slash aimed at the leader’s side. He recovered quickly, circling to Galen, trying to find an angle toward the cell. Galen matched his movement, maintaining his position. The leader feinted a high cut, then dropped low, sweeping the tip of his blade toward Galen’s knee. Galen jumped back, but the tip of the sword sliced through the back of his left calf just above his boot. Galen felt the sting but did not break stance. He reset his feet.

The assassin leader pressed the advantage, attacking again with three rapid strikes, high, low, and mid. Galen blocked the first, dodged the second, and parried the third. He saw an opening. As the assassin’s blade was extended for a fourth, Galen pivoted on his back foot and brought his own sword around, and the edge of his blade caught the leader behind the left knee, slicing through the fabric of his dark overalls and cutting deep into the hamstring.

The leader’s leg buckled. He dropped to one knee but did not fall. His jaw tightened, but he made no sound. He pushed himself back up, putting his weight on his right leg, and raised his sword again. Blood soaked the fabric of his overalls, pooling in his boot.

Galen didn’t press forward. He held his ground, blocking the path to the cell behind him, his sword ready to strike again.

The leader charged again, trying to circle to the right, but Galen moved with him, keeping the man directly in front of him. He attacked again, a desperate full-strength slash aimed at Galen’s shoulder, but he raised his sword to block, and the force of the blow drove his own blade down. The assassin blade came within the range of Galen’s neck, but he twisted and struck the leader’s injured leg. The man’s knee buckled again, and Galen sliced his blade across the man’s side, cutting through the cloth and skin again. Blood welled from the wound.

The leader’s movement slowed. Galen did not charge to finish him. He stood, watching the man groan in pain.

"You’re not trying to kill me," he said.

Galen didn’t answer.

"You are making a mistake for not trying to kill me," the leader added, his voice was low and rough.

"You are the one who made a mistake by coming into the wrong place," Galen replied.

"Kill me, or I will kill you. Those are the only outcomes." The leader gritted.

Galen raised his sword again. "You are messing with the wrong person. I do not need to kill you. I need to keep you away from her."

The leader’s eyes narrowed towards Eirene’s cell. Then he made one final attempt. He lunged forward, aiming a direct blow at Galen’s chest, but his injured legs failed to provide the necessary strength and power. Galen swept his weight to the side, deflecting the thrust, and as the assassin stumbled past him, Galen brought the flat side of his sword down hard on the back of the man’s skull. The leader’s eyes went black. He pitched forward, his sword clattering from his hand, and he hit the stone floor face-first. He did not move.

Galen stood over him, his chest heaving. He looked at the man’s body, then around the dungeon. The fighting had stopped. His men were standing among the bodies of the assassins.

The attack had been planned well. So had his response.

One of his closest men, named Endavin, approached him. He had a gash on his forearm that was bleeding freely, but he paid it no attention. He made a hand signal, a closed fist over his chest, then an open palm facing down—the signal for completed victory.

"It’s done, sir. We have three alive. The rest are dead." Endavin said.

Galen nodded. "Well done, great warriors of Lycanthria."

The men cheered. He looked at the body of the leader at his feet. He lowered his sword and wiped it on the clothing of the fallen assassin and sheathed it.

"Help our wounded brothers to the infirmary to get treated. Clean this up. Drag the bodies out. I want the floor washed and cleaned before dawn."

Endavin gave out orders, assigning men to duties. The guards moved immediately. Two came forward and seized the leader by the arms, and they dragged him across the stone floor, leaving a trail of blood from the wounds on his body. The guards began dragging bodies away, clearing the corridors, checking for any survivors.

Galen turned and walked out of the dungeon. The bodies of the patrol guards had been retrieved and laid in a row. Three assassins were on their knees in the center of the yard, their hands bound behind their back with thick rope. Their masks have been pulled down, revealing the faces of men of varying ages. They stared ahead, their expression blank. Four soldiers stood behind them, swords drawn.

Galen approached the assassins. "Who sent you?" He asked.

No response.

"This is a crime punishable under the laws of Lycanthria. If you do not speak, there will be no saving grace." He looked at each of them in turn.

The assassins did not speak. They did not meet his eyes. Then Gale. turned to speak to Endavin, who had followed him outside.

"Take them to the Hollow of Veritas."

The Hollow of Veritas wasn’t a place people returned from easily. It was a deadly place for criminals who needed to be broken before they would talk.

"Yes, my Lord." Endavin nodded.

He gestured to the soldiers who hauled the assassins to their feet, and they dragged them away.

Galen waited a while outside. He touched his wound, and his hand came away with blood. He might need to see a healer, but first, there was Eirene who needed protection. He turned and walked back into the dungeons.