Salvador glanced back at the outer walls of Grenaserrat City. He could imagine the Evrúopeans scaling the walls, surprising the unprepared defenders. Whatever few there were left after the City Police began their siege of the Hibiscus Keep. The citizens of Grenaserrat screamed as they realized their doom was upon them.

"To the docks!" one of the commoners shouted. "To the docks! We can escape on the ships!"

And just like that, an exodus of peasants began to rush to the docks. Salvador swore colorfully. "How are we going to get to our ship now?"

They attempted to forge forward, but their progress was much too slow. Men, women, and children alike poured into the streets of Grenaserrat, having little regard for each other. They pushed and shoved, kicked and punched each other. Each of them trying to make it to the docks before the other. There were cries of help rising into the air, many of them prayers to the Angel King himself and his servants.

They didn't hear the sound of hooves over the cries of peasants. When they saw the towering knights in full plate armor wielding majestic lances charging through the crowds, it was already too late.

Blood sprayed everywhere as the lances of the Evrúopean lances tore everything in their path. The huge Evrúopean warhorses, steeds that dwarfed all horses in the Caraíbes Isles, trampled people under their hooves. Salvador saw a young man, no older than fifteen, get speared through by a warlance. The Evrúopeans killed indiscriminately, no one escaped their wrath.

"No! Please, God, no!" came a scream. Only one of the hundreds like them. But Him Up Above seemed to turn a deaf ear to their screams and a blind eye to their suffering. The cobbled streets of Grenasserrat were soon soaked slick in the red blood of believers.

Salvador whirled into action; his Sídhe blades danced to that deadly tune once more. He sliced the legs of a giant warhorse and sent both steed and rider tumbling. He rushed to the Evrúopean, whose banner depicted a yellow field charged with a red lion passant. Their armor was well made, better than most in the Caraíbes. It was tinted golden with red patterns, but it was no match for Aes Sídhe steel. Salvador slammed the point of his blade through the eye-slit of the faceplate and heard the results. When he pulled out his sabre, he saw an ever-growing mound of dead bodies around him. Gerard held off two Evrúopeans who had dismounted, both with full plate armor. Salvador's first instinct was to assist him, but he was drawn away by the cries of a woman and a child.

Turning around, he saw a woman in peasant rags next to an empty cart holding her child close to her and praying whilst another Evrúopean knight in full plate stood over her. The knight drew his greatsword―for that was the only word for a sword so large―and raised it over his head.

"No!" Salvador screamed, and he charged. He threw his sabre, it spun through the air, flying past the ear of the child, and. . .

Bounced off the knight's armor.

How? Impossible! Were his first thoughts. Aes Sídhe armor were rarer than their weapon counterparts. Only about fifty sets of Sídhe armor existed in all of the Caraíbes and the Royal Family of Sersalvon possessed seven of them. The only sets in all of Sersalvon. For this Evrúopeans to possess a set of Sídhe plate implied that he was an important figure indeed.

Salvador saw the knight's helm glance up at Salvador before bringing his blade down on the terrified peasants.

Salvador couldn't look.

"NO!" he screamed once more. He gripped his remaining sabre and sprinted towards the knight. The Evrúopean gave a harsh laugh held his greatsword at the ready. He had in position for a parry, but at the last moment, Salvador jumped onto the empty cart with light feet and used the momentum to carry him over the knight's head. He landed lightly on his feet and slashed at the Evrúopeans legs. The sabre just clanged off.

Idiot, idiot, idiot, he berated himself. This was Aes Sídhe steel he was going up against.

Salvador rolled away just in time as the knight brought down his greatsword. He sprung up and backed away as the knight followed up with a slash to his stomach. By the Angel King, he's fast!

The sound of metal boots on cobblestone rang behind him. Salvador backed up to where he could see both the knight and the three Evrúopean soldiers that advanced on him from behind. They wore kettle plate helms fitted with mail coifs and had steel breastplates worn over hauberks. They wore reinforced leather boots and steel poleyns that allowed them to move quickly but remain armored. They carried a spear in one hand and a shield in the other. One of them bellowed a war cry and all three charged at Salvador. Their thrust their spears at him but Salvador used his Sídhe blade to shear off the spearheads.

Then, the Evrúopean roared in anger at his soldiers. Were words were harsh and accented. . . but Salvador could understand him! "You fools! He bears Faesteel!"

It was the Merchant Tongue! Or at least a variant of it. Some of the words had slightly different pronunciations, but Salvador could make it out.

The knight was distracted. Salvador seized the chance and charged at the knight, his sword poised for a thrust. The knight raised his hurriedly in an attempt to parry, but Salvador surprised him by rushing in, batting his blade away and crashing into the knight. They were both brought down and Salvador managed to rip the knight's helm off his head. His face was pale, like all other Evrúopeans. He had only a few wisps of blond hair left on his head, and his eyes were a blazing stormy grey. The knight recovered and punched Salvador in his jaw, lifting him into the air and sending him flying over five feet. Salvador crashed onto ground and rolled. One of the remaining three soldiers tried to stab him with a knife, but he managed to roll away and protect his vital organs so that the knife only grazed his leg. He lashed out his leg, tripped the soldier, and grabbed his own knife, stabbing the soldier between his soldier blades.

His head was pounding and his leg felt as if it was on fire. His entire body hurt. The knight had gotten up and held his greatsword in one hand and Salvador's sabre in the other. Great. His helm was still off and he advanced slowly towards Salvador. "You fight well. . . for an infidel."

At that moment, Salvador threw his knife, aiming for the knight's face. Like always, the blade flew true, its spiraling motion almost mesmerizing―

And then the knight knocked it out of the air.

Salvador moaned in frustration. How the hell was he supposed to get out of this mess now? Were their three ships still even in the docks? Any sane captain would've steered them clear by now.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a recognizable flash. Salvador's eyes widened and he felt himself gifted with a burst a strength that must've come straight from the angels themselves. He pushed himself to his feet and rushed at the knight screaming, "For the innocent fallen!" in Carabaí. The knight seemed amused and was prepared to strike a killing blow―

But then Gerard barreled into him, shoulder first. Roaring, the Freelancer, in an unhonorable move, forwent his longsword and drew his dagger, stabbing the Evrúopean knight between his eyes. He rose and grabbed Salvador, yelling, "Come on!"

"No! Grab the greatsword!"

"What?"

"The greatsword!"

Gerard looked at the corpse and saw the greatsword. "What about your sabre?"

"That too."

Gerald growled in an uncharacteristic manner and grabbed both the greatsword, its sheath, and the sabre. Salvador quickly sheathed his sabre and began to run, adrenaline blocking out the pain in his leg. His head continued to pound, but he pushed forward. They both ran through the burning, dying city of Grenaserrat. Everywhere Evrúopean soldiers were slaughtering the civilian population. Salvador could feel tears on his cheeks. There were only a few places that Salvador saw Grenesarri troops fighting back or the City Police. However, the closer they got to the docks, the more City Police there seemed to be.

Finally, they were only a hundred yards from the docks. "Look!" Salvador heard himself cry out. "The City Police are holding the Evrúopeans back at the docks!"

The last bastion in this burning hell.

A line of City Police held against the Evrúopeans, but their strength was visibly wavering.

"Can you fight?" Gerard shouted at him.

"I think so!" Salvador yelled back.

"Try not to get yourself killed!"

"Yes, Mother!"

Gerard let out a sigh and handed Salvador his Sídhe longsword. "You need it." And he charged. The duo once more cut their way through a swath of soldiers, this time Gerard wielded the greatsword of the Evrúopean knight. Bodies went flying, men flew screaming, and everyone died.

Salvador and Gerard reached the line of City Police. "Let us through! We are the Freelancer and the Peasant! We fight for the Caraíbes Isles!" Salvador bellowed, Gerard's longsword coated in shiny blood.

The City Police parted slightly, allowing for an exhausted Salvador and Gerard to barge through. About time! They ran into the docks where their ships had been harbored. . .

If they're still there.

And then, Salvador saw one of the remaining ships waving a familiar banner: A royal yellow field blazoned with a crossed black sword and sickle. Three galleys waving the same.

"They're still here!" Salvador whooped in joy, despite the burning city just outside the docks. Gerard also grinned, although it was a tired smile.

Captain Tomas stood at the stern, waving towards them. "We had almost lost all hope, segniuers!"

"Zachariah must've blessed you, for I would be long gone!" Salvador hollered.

"Ha!"

Quickly, the duo boarded the ship and rushed to the helm where the captain stood nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Can we finally leave? Look a' what's happenin'!" He pointed out to sea, where Grenesarri ships were locked in a fierce naval battle with Evrúopean ships.

"Yes," Salvador said. "We can go."

"Good," the captain said in relief. "There's an opening in both the Grenessarri and Evrúopean lines in which we can go through, so long as it doesn't close up. Get the ballistas ready, we may have to fire at the Evrúopeans."

Gerard relayed the orders to Captain Tomas who began to bark at the sailors. The ship shot forward from the docks, cutting a white wake through the harbor. Salvador could see the opening in the naval lines, catapults and ballistas fired their projectiles at each other. Fiery projectiles crashed into the ships on both sides. Salvador grinned as their three galleys slipped through the lines.

Sailors and soldiers alike whooped and Salvador saw a rare smile on Tomas's face. Salvador felt the same urge. . . but then he saw the burning city as they sailed away and he felt the blooming smile die. He thought again about the innocent commoners who had died either to the blazes or to the swords of the Evrúopeans.

Another reason to pray to Iusphiel.

Justice.

Vengeance.

I'll show the Evrúopeans what the Angel of Justice's wrath feels like.