Episode 37: Primitive meatheads
The front door shattered inward, but it was only Max and the boys. Max barked "Situation report!" even as his men were moving to secure the area.
"One down, no dead, all P.A.F."
"Area secure; ready for exit."
"Exit's a rumble; we're circled."
Max nodded, then looked to Arthur. "I was wondering when you were going to let me return the favor."
Arthur grinned. "Even after this you'll only be halfway there, my friend."
He shrugged. "Whatever."
"So guess who the commander of the camp turned out to be."
"Aurora Elendur. A top-notch Class-B running a logging camp. What in Heaven's name is going on here?"
An eyebrow twitched. "Interesting. Now that my boys have got your casualty, let's get out of here before the place finishes catching on fire."
Four of Max's men led the way out of the front door while two carried Isabelle. Max himself was in the lead. The situation outside was as one of them had said: They were encircled by angry loggers with axes, plus a few better-armed guards. No-one wanted to make the first move, so Arthur stepped forwards, raised his horn to his lips, and blew the fanfare of the Imperial Legions.
"Listen up, you primitive meatheads! Special Unit Campion of the Imperial Guard has taken over this camp. Now I have neither the patience nor a legal requirement to take any of you prisoner even if you surrender to me, but I'm not going to let you stay here, either. You've got two choices: promise me that you're not going to aid Black Jong any more, go home, and don't let me catch any of you poaching trees in my forest ever again, or stay here and die; there is no third option. Now who is going to get the hell of of my country and who is going die over this stupid, illegal invasion?"
The humans scattered, but then the wolves came creeping out of the shadows.
"Oh bloody hell," muttered Arthur. "What Class-A idiot is doing this?" He took a defensive stance.